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Q: regex to split number from string How to split and select which is number using regex. User can enter string like:
1dozen
3 dozen
dozen1 <= unlikely but assume user will type that too
30/kg
I still find out with the incomplete one:
/[a-z](?=\d)|\d(?=[a-z])/i
But missing space and forward slash. Can anyone help me?
A: var str = '1dozen 3 dozen dozen1 30/kg';
str.match(/\d+/g); // ["1", "3", "1", "30"]
A: The lookarounds are completely unnecessary here!
See http://jsfiddle.net/5WJ9v/
The code:
var text = "1dozen 3 dozen dozen1 30/kg";
var regex = /(\d+\.|\d+)+/g;
alert(text.match(regex));
You get a match object with all of your numbers.
The script above correctly alerts 1,3,1,30.
|
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| 2,025
|
L'ancien hôtel d'Hercule était un hôtel particulier situé au 5-7 rue des Grands-Augustins, dans le de Paris. Ce monument fait l'objet d'une inscription au titre des monuments historiques depuis le .
Le bâtiment
L'hôtel d'Hercule, ainsi nommé parce qu'on y avait peint les travaux de ce héros antique, fut d'abord occupé par le comte de Sancerre et acheté en 1409 par Barthélemy Le Viste, conseiller au Parlement de Paris. Jean de la Driesche, président en la Chambre des comptes, l'ayant acquis, le fit rebâtir, et peu de temps après, le vendit à Louis de Halluin, seigneur de Piennes et chambellan du roi. Charles VII l'acheta, moyennant livres, par contrat passé le . Sous le règne de Louis XII, cet hôtel était occupé par Guillaume de Poitiers, seigneur de Clérieu. Le chancelier Duprat l'habita ensuite. En 1573, il appartenait à Antoine Duprat, petit-fils du chancelier et seigneur de Nantouillet. Cette habitation était alors très vaste et s'étendait jusqu'à la seconde maison, en deçà de la rue Pavée, et en profondeur, jusqu'aux jardins de l'abbé de Saint-Denis. Sur une partie de l'emplacement de l'hôtel d'Hercule, l'hôtel de Savoie ou de Nemours fut construit. En 1671, cette dernière propriété fut abattue, et sur son emplacement on construisit la rue de Savoie, sur une largeur de ; dimension qui a été maintenue par une décision ministérielle du 8 nivôse an IX, signée Chaptal. Les propriétés riveraines sont alignées.
Jean de Marlès dans son Paris ancien et moderne (1837) écrit :
Dans cet hôtel, Honoré de Balzac situe l'atelier du peintre Frenhofer de sa nouvelle Le Chef-d'œuvre inconnu. Par ailleurs, Pablo Picasso y a exécuté le tableau Guernica en 1937. Une plaque commémorative sur la façade rappelle ces épisodes.
Notes et références
Voir aussi
Sources et bibliographie
Articles connexes
Liste des hôtels particuliers parisiens
Liste des monuments historiques du arrondissement de Paris
Hôtel particulier à Paris
Monument historique inscrit en 1926
Hercule
|
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| 6,620
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@class NSString;
@interface TwitterInfo : WXPBGeneratedMessage
{
}
+ (void)initialize;
// Remaining properties
@property(retain, nonatomic) NSString *oauthToken; // @dynamic oauthToken;
@property(retain, nonatomic) NSString *oauthTokenSecret; // @dynamic oauthTokenSecret;
@end
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
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| 4,505
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Q: Get Sku, Name and Description Joined With 'Value' from `catalog_product_entity_media_gallery` In order to migrate data between ERP systems, I need to rename images to conform to a specific format for the new system, coming from Magento. I'm going to write a script to automate this but need some data to start.
I'm able to pull sku, name and description using the query in this Post
Currently all the paths for file images are in the 'value' column of the catalog_product_entity_media_gallery table.
I'm wondering if there is a way to join the above query with the catalog_product_entity_media_gallery table in order to retrieve the sku, name, description, and image file path.
A: SELECT
`e`.`sku`,
IF(at_name.value_id > 0, at_name.value, at_name_default.value) AS `name`,
IF(at_description.value_id > 0, at_description.value, at_description_default.value) AS `description`,
at_path.value AS `path`
FROM
`catalog_product_entity` AS `e`
INNER JOIN
`catalog_product_entity_varchar` AS `at_name_default`
ON (`at_name_default`.`entity_id` = `e`.`entity_id`) AND
(`at_name_default`.`attribute_id` = (SELECT attribute_id FROM `eav_attribute` ea LEFT JOIN `eav_entity_type` et ON ea.entity_type_id = et.entity_type_id WHERE `ea`.`attribute_code` = 'name' AND et.entity_type_code = 'catalog_product')) AND
`at_name_default`.`store_id` = 0
LEFT JOIN
`catalog_product_entity_varchar` AS `at_name`
ON (`at_name`.`entity_id` = `e`.`entity_id`) AND
(`at_name`.`attribute_id` = (SELECT attribute_id FROM `eav_attribute` ea LEFT JOIN `eav_entity_type` et ON ea.entity_type_id = et.entity_type_id WHERE `ea`.`attribute_code` = 'name' AND et.entity_type_code = 'catalog_product')) AND
(`at_name`.`store_id` = 1)
INNER JOIN
`catalog_product_entity_text` AS `at_description_default`
ON (`at_description_default`.`entity_id` = `e`.`entity_id`) AND
(`at_description_default`.`attribute_id` = (SELECT attribute_id FROM `eav_attribute` ea LEFT JOIN `eav_entity_type` et ON ea.entity_type_id = et.entity_type_id WHERE `ea`.`attribute_code` = 'description' AND et.entity_type_code = 'catalog_product')) AND
`at_description_default`.`store_id` = 0
LEFT JOIN
`catalog_product_entity_text` AS `at_description`
ON (`at_description`.`entity_id` = `e`.`entity_id`) AND
(`at_description`.`attribute_id` = (SELECT attribute_id FROM `eav_attribute` ea LEFT JOIN `eav_entity_type` et ON ea.entity_type_id = et.entity_type_id WHERE `ea`.`attribute_code` = 'description' AND et.entity_type_code = 'catalog_product')) AND
(`at_description`.`store_id` = 1)
LEFT JOIN
`catalog_product_entity_media_gallery` AS `at_path`
ON (`at_path`.`entity_id` = `e`.`entity_id`)
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
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| 8,113
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Metagyrinus is a genus of beetles in the family Gyrinidae, containing the following species:
Metagyrinus arrowi (Régimbart, 1907)
Metagyrinus sinensis (Ochs, 1924)
Metagyrinus vitalisi (Peschet, 1923)
References
Gyrinidae
Adephaga genera
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaWikipedia"
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| 3,381
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Q: Magento2 - How to validate image width and height in admin form I have created a custom module for image upload in magento2 admin form. How to validate the image width and height.
Any help on the issue please?
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
}
| 2,392
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Q: How to update text element after property change in Polymer 3? So I'm using a data table which has an active element. When that active elment changes I store the name of the active element in a property of my polymer element. Then I display this String property in a div.
Now I know for certain that the property change works, because I console.log it after a change, the div displaying the property doesn't update and continually displays the default value I have set.
export class ProjectsOverview extends PolymerElement {
static get template() {
return html`
...
<div>{{currentProject}}</div>
...
`
}
static get properties() {
return {
currentProject: {
type: String,
value: "placeholder",
notify: true,
reflectToAttribute: true
}
};
}
connectedCallback() {
super.connectedCallback();
const grid = this.shadowRoot.querySelector('vaadin-grid');
grid.addEventListener('active-item-changed', function(event) {
const item = event.detail.value;
grid.selectedItems = [item];
if (item) {
this.set('currentProject', item.name);
} else {
this.set('currentProject', '');
}
console.log(this.currentProject);
});
}
}
My expected result would be that every time the currentProject property is updated, the div displaying the property updates as well.
A: The active-item-changed callback does not have its context bound to the Polymer instance (i.e., this is the grid and not the Polymer component). Instead of the function expression, use an arrow function to automatically bind this to the correct context.
// grid.addEventListener('active-item-changed', function(event) { // DON'T DO THIS
grid.addEventListener('active-item-changed', (event) => {
/* this is the Polymer instance here */
this.set('currentProject', ...);
})
A: Your scope is wrong. You're using an anonymous function so when you try to set currentProject, you do that when your this is your anonymous function. Use .bind(this) to fix your problem.
grid.addEventListener('active-item-changed', function(event) {
const item = event.detail.value;
grid.selectedItems = [item];
if (item) {
this.set('currentProject', item.name);
} else {
this.set('currentProject', '');
}
console.log(this.currentProject);
}.bind(this));
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
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| 2,168
|
{"url":"https:\/\/practice.geeksforgeeks.org\/problems\/largest-square-formed-in-a-matrix0806\/1\/","text":"X\n\nDAYS\n\n:\n\nHOUR\n\n:\n\nMINS\n\n:\n\nSEC\n\nCopied to Clipboard\nLargest square formed in a matrix\nMedium Accuracy: 49.17% Submissions: 24266 Points: 4\n\nGiven a binary matrix mat\u00a0of size n * m, find out the maximum size square sub-matrix with all 1s.\n\nExample 1:\n\nInput: n = 2, m = 2\nmat = {{1, 1},\n{1, 1}}\nOutput: 2\nExplaination: The maximum size of the square\nsub-matrix is 2. The matrix itself is the\nmaximum sized sub-matrix in this case.\n\nExample 2:\n\nInput: n = 2, m = 2\nmat = {{0, 0},\n{0, 0}}\nOutput: 0\nExplaination: There is no 1 in the matrix.\n\nYou do not need to read input or print anything. Your task is to complete the function maxSquare() which takes n, m and mat as input parameters and returns the size of the maximum square sub-matrix of given matrix.\n\nExpected Time Complexity: O(n*m)\nExpected Auxiliary Space: O(n*m)\n\nConstraints:\n1 \u2264 n, m \u2264 50\n0 \u2264 mat[i][j] \u2264 1","date":"2022-07-03 09:24:02","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 1, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.20755065977573395, \"perplexity\": 3180.9307045662513}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2022-27\/segments\/1656104215805.66\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20220703073750-20220703103750-00169.warc.gz\"}"}
| null | null |
604-593-5967 info@indiabookworld.ca
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Home» » Life - Style of the People of Punjab
Life - Style of the People of Punjab
Sudarshan Singh
In this title, author, Dr.Sudarshan Singh, mentions about the society, culture and the way of life of the people of Punjab in the past as well as in the present times. Author's study has been intense, for there is a liberal use of material through which he compares the rituals, customs of the people down the ages. For example, he compares the position of women during the earlier and later Vedic Age and puts forth the views of the Ten Gurus regarding the status of women and how each of the Gurus worked to achieving that respect for women by exhorting their followers. He proves this by quoting from the holy Guru Granth Sahib.
Publisher: Singh Brothers
Asian Publications
Copyright © 2020 India Bookworld | All prices in CAD
|
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| 5,931
|
Q: Text id like youtube, is it encrypted or just a random string? A lot of website using these type of GET id, such as www.mywebste.com/?id=ABDXC5Z instead of www.mywebste.com/?id=30 I have a couple of questions regarding this:
*
*What is the benefit of doing this? Is it for preventing auto-crawling that can get everything from the website?
*How to implement it? Is the ID just a unique random string store in the database, or the encrypted data that can be decrypted to normal id?
*If I store unique string index as ID, does that really affect the performance of my website?
A: There are a number of reasons that this might be used. Most likely, the system is auto-generating a random ID (from a hash or something similar) instead of a sequential one to prevent collisions or to allow simultaneous generation by multiple servers behind a load balancer. The ID isn't "encrypted", it's just an arbitrary key that the server uses to look up the resource in some sort of database.
|
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| 135
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Miami-Dade Launches New Initiative to Curb Youth Violence
Publicado el 30 de marzo del 2016
Miami-Dade County Mayor Carlos Gimenez held a press conference Wednesday to discuss youth safety in the county. He announced enhanced community policing in violence and poverty stricken communities.
Juveniles committing violent crimes is such a problem in Miami-Dade County, police officers will now be going into kids' homes.
Armed Suspect Carjacks Uber Driver: MDPD
"We are competing against the streets and if we don't have an alternative for these young people, the streets will win out every time," Commissioner Dennis Moss expressed.
"We are going to own that neighborhood. We are going to build a village around that kid. We are going to address the problems of the neighborhood. We are going to stay in that street. We are going to continue to be there," added Juan Perez, Director of Miami-Dade Police.
Mom of Toddler Found in Drug-Filled Motel Room Bonds Out
Juvenile Services Director Morris Copeland said about 4,000 kids go through his system each year. Most are not violent, repeat offenders.
"That small population that is left, that is the problematic population of young people, is probably around 350 to 400 kids," Copeland explained.
Miami-Dade Dad Beat Baby Daughter to Death: Cops
25 officers are receiving special training. Each will develop a one-on-one relationship with one repeat youth offender. The idea is to create a mentor-mentee situation.
Police will concentrate resources in about four of the county's high crime zip codes. After school programs will be enhanced. Summer work programs will be expanded, creating thousands of new jobs for kids.
6-year-old King carter, allegedly shot and killed by teenagers, is one recent example of youth violence. A February shootout outside Miami Carol City High School is another.
Authorities know they're not going to completely stop kids from committing crimes, but they said addressing violent, repeat offenders can make a difference.
"If we can divert one youth, it's worth it. So we intend to divert a heck of a lot of youths," Mayor Gimenez said.
Photo Credit: NBC6.com
|
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| 29
|
Emil Martin Thilo (* 23. Juni 1876 in Borgholzhausen; † 14. März 1950 in Eitorf) war ein deutscher evangelischer Pfarrer und Theologe.
Thilo war nach einer zweijährigen Reise nach Bethlehem Pastor in Enger, Langerfeld und Eitorf (1918–1946). Nebenamtlich war er ab 1921 Privatdozent für Altes Testament und ab 1923 Lektor für Hebräisch an der Universität Bonn.
Familie
Martin Thilo war der Sohn des Pastors Eduard Thilo und Hermine geb. Luyken. Er heiratete am 29. August 1907 Johanna Charlotte Auguste geb. Thilo. Die Familie hatte drei Söhne.
Ehrungen
In Eitorf wurde die Dr.-Martin-Thilo-Straße nach ihm benannt.
Werke
Was jedermann zum Verständnis des Alten Testamentes wissen muß! Hugo Klein's Verlag, Barmen 1917, , 2. Auflage, 1917, , 3. Auflage: J. F. Steinkopff, Stuttgart, 1930,
Die Chronologie des Alten Testamentes, dargestellt und beurteilt unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der masoretischen Richter- und Königszahlen. Hugo Klein's Verlag Barmen 1917,
Das Hohelied: neu übersetzt und ästhetisch-sittlich beurteilt, A. Marcus und E. Webers, 1921,
Zwei Jahre im Lande der Bibel: Erlebnisse. J. Meincke, Neuwied 1924,
Das Buch Hiob. A. Marcus und E. Webers Verlag, Bonn 1925,
Alttestamentliche Bibelkunde – ein Handbuch für Bibelleser. J.F. Steinkopf-Verlag Stuttgart 1935,
Das Alte Testament ausgelegt für Bibelleser. Bertelsmann, Gütersloh,
Band 1: Die fünf Bücher Moses. C. Bertelsmann Verlag Gütersloh 1947,
Band 2: Die Bücher Josua bis Esther. C. Bertelsmann Verlag Gütersloh 1949,
Band 3: Die Lehrbücher Geschichte des Morgenlandes zur biblischen Zeit. C. Bertelsmann Verlag Gütersloh, 1950,
Band 4: Die prophetischen Bücher. C. Bertelsmann Verlag Gütersloh 1951,
Einzelnachweise
Person (Eitorf)
Evangelischer Theologe (20. Jahrhundert)
Alttestamentler
Hochschullehrer (Rheinische Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universität Bonn)
Deutscher
Geboren 1876
Gestorben 1950
Mann
Evangelischer Geistlicher (20. Jahrhundert)
|
{
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| 6,101
|
Sapotillträd (Manilkara zapota), även kallat sapotiljträd, sapotillplommon eller tuggummiträd, är en tvåhjärtbladig växtart som först beskrevs av Carl von Linné, och fick sitt nu gällande namn av Pieter van Royen. Manilkara zapota ingår i släktet Manilkara och familjen Sapotaceae. Inga underarter finns listade i Catalogue of Life.
Bildgalleri
Källor
Externa länkar
Ljungordningen
zapota
|
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| 1,068
|
Q: How to display buttons underneath each other in framelayout? Hi I have FrameLayout and want to add two buttons (or more) in this layout.
The first button shows, however when adding the second button it seems to place it beneath the first button. I have tried margin top gravity and a few others more, but can't seem to display the button below the first one.
Here is my XML File
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<TabHost xmlns:android="http://schemas.android.com/apk/res/android"
android:id="@android:id/tabhost"
android:layout_width="fill_parent"
android:layout_height="fill_parent"
android:background="@drawable/logo1">
<LinearLayout
android:orientation="vertical"
android:layout_width="fill_parent"
android:layout_height="fill_parent"
android:padding="5dp">
<TabWidget
android:id="@android:id/tabs"
android:layout_width="fill_parent"
android:layout_height="wrap_content" />
<FrameLayout
android:id="@android:id/tabcontent"
android:layout_width="fill_parent"
android:layout_height="fill_parent"
android:padding="5dp" >
<Button
android:id="@+id/Distancecalc"
android:layout_width="fill_parent"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:text="Distance Calculator" />
<Button
android:id="@+id/Distance"
android:layout_width="fill_parent"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:text="Distance Calculator" />
</FrameLayout>
</LinearLayout>
</TabHost>
Could anyone please help?
A: FrameLayout is designed to block out an area on the screen to display a single item. Generally, FrameLayout should be used to hold a single child view, because it can be difficult to organize child views in a way that's scalable to different screen sizes without the children overlapping each other. You can, however, add multiple children to a FrameLayout and control their position within the FrameLayout by assigning gravity to each child, using the android:layout_gravity attribute.
Child views are drawn in a stack, with the most recently added child on top. The size of the FrameLayout is the size of its largest child (plus padding), visible or not (if the FrameLayout's parent permits). Views that are GONE are used for sizing only if setConsiderGoneChildrenWhenMeasuring() is set to true.
For your solution use a LinearLayout with vertical orientation or RelativeLayout
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<TabHost xmlns:android="http://schemas.android.com/apk/res/android"
android:id="@android:id/tabhost"
android:layout_width="fill_parent"
android:layout_height="fill_parent"
android:background="@drawable/logo1">
<LinearLayout
android:orientation="vertical"
android:layout_width="fill_parent"
android:layout_height="fill_parent"
android:padding="5dp">
<TabWidget
android:id="@android:id/tabs"
android:layout_width="fill_parent"
android:layout_height="wrap_content" />
<LinearLayout
android:id="@android:id/tabcontent"
android:layout_width="fill_parent"
android:layout_height="fill_parent"
android:orientation="vertical"
android:padding="5dp" >
<Button
android:id="@+id/Distancecalc"
android:layout_width="fill_parent"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:text="Distance Calculator" />
<Button
android:id="@+id/Distance"
android:layout_width="fill_parent"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:text="Distance Calculator" />
</LinearLayout>
</LinearLayout>
</TabHost>
|
{
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}
| 29
|
Q: How to preserve original type in match without resorting to asInstanceOf? The below code is using ZIO, so I've added the scalaz tag, though that may be a bit beside the point. I have a function that takes a type J with a typeclass constraint (Job):
def execJvm2[J: Job](cmdIn: J): IO[Nothing, Future[RunResult]] = {
type IOJob = IO[Nothing, J]
val cmd0: IOJob = omitted(cmdIn)
val cmd1: IOJob = cmd0.map {
case cmd : OneShot =>
memStorage(cmd.id) = JobWithResult(cmd, runIO(runInSystem(cmd)))
cmd.asInstanceOf[J]
case cmd: Repl =>
memStorage(cmd.id) = JobWithResult(cmd, runIO(runInSystem(cmd)))
cmd.asInstanceOf[J]
case cmd: ExecFile =>
memStorage(cmd.id) = JobWithResult(cmd, runIO(runInSystem(cmd)))
cmd.asInstanceOf[J]
case _ => ???
}
cmd1.map { cmd => poll(cmd.id) }
}
The examples in the pattern match (OneShot, Repl, ExecFile) all are instances of Job and have their implicit typeclass instances in scope, though I guess that is a bit beside the point. The main reason this should work without using asInstanceOf, to my thinking, is that the type has only been narrowed down in the pattern match from J to e.g. OneShot, but I would think the compiler would know it is still a J as well.
A: It looks a bit worse, but I think
val cmd1: IOJob = cmd0.map { cmdJ => cmdJ match {
case cmd: OneShot =>
memStorage(cmd.id) = JobWithResult(cmd, runIO(runInSystem(cmd)))
cmdJ
case cmd: Repl =>
memStorage(cmd.id) = JobWithResult(cmd, runIO(runInSystem(cmd)))
cmdJ
case cmd: ExecFile =>
memStorage(cmd.id) = JobWithResult(cmd, runIO(runInSystem(cmd)))
cmdJ
case _ => ???
}}
should work. And cheating with type erasure a bit, I think this should compile and work (but try it):
val cmd1: IOJob = cmd0.map {
case cmd: OneShot with J @unchecked =>
memStorage(cmd.id) = JobWithResult(cmd, runIO(runInSystem(cmd)))
cmd
case cmd: Repl with J @unchecked =>
memStorage(cmd.id) = JobWithResult(cmd, runIO(runInSystem(cmd)))
cmd
case cmd: ExecFile with J @unchecked =>
memStorage(cmd.id) = JobWithResult(cmd, runIO(runInSystem(cmd)))
cmd
case _ => ???
}
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
}
| 4,863
|
Q: How to handle multiple output formats in a RESTful Zend Framework 2 application? I'm developing a RESTful application on Zend Framework 2 basis. Just implemented the get(...) method of the controller:
class SeminarsController extends RestfulController
{
/**
* @var Zend\Db\TableGateway\TableGateway
*/
private $seminarTable;
...
public function get($id)
{
$seminarDetails = $this->getSeminarsTable()->findOnceByID($id)->current();
return new JsonModel(array('data' => array(
'id' => $seminarDetails->id,
'title' => $seminarDetails->title,
'details' => $seminarDetails->details
)));
}
...
}
Works fine. But now it's bound to a hard defined output format -- JSON. How can/should I make it more flexible, in order to enable the user/client to get the output in different formats?
EDIT
What I want to know is, what structure/architecture solution for such case(-s). I'm sure, there are best practices / standard solutions for this problem.
A: You are looking for a custom view strategy (you can create a custom view strategy to render any kind of response).
There is a great webinar on this by Matthew Weier O'Phinney that you can watch on the Zend website.
If the link doens't work, go to the recorded webinars page and look for "Build RESTful ZF2 Applications".
The webinar contains all information you need including code samples.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
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| 9,030
|
\section{Introduction}
The quantization of General Relativity (GR) has interpretative and technical issues, which up to now prevented to successfully achieve a widely accepted quantum theory and suggested to look for alternatives, the most prominent being String Theory. In this work, we want to support the idea that canonical quantization can be performed, by proposing a formulation in which one can find physical states for GR in vacuum.
Physical states are the basic objects in the canonical quantization based on the Dirac prescription, in which the classical constraints are promoted to operators annihilating them in a suitable space. In geometrodynamics, to find physical states essentially means to solve the Wheeler-de Witt (WdW) equation \cite{DeWitt:1967yk}, which has been done only in symmetry reduced models \cite{Misner:1969ae}, the full theory being elusive. In Loop Quantum Gravity (LQG), several achievements concerning the definition of the operators associated with the constraints have been done \cite{Ashtekar:1995zh}. These have been obtained via a reformulation of GR in terms of some $SU(2)$ connections \cite{Ashtekar:1986yd,Barbero:1994ap} and the use of some tools proper of lattice gauge theories \cite{Wilson:1974sk,Kogut:1974ag}, such as the description of quantum states in terms of holonomies. A result of LQG is that one knows in which space to look for physical states, but, due to the complicated expression of the operators in terms of basic variables, one cannot get any explicit expression for them \cite{Thiemann:1996aw}.
One can interpret these difficulties as due to the peculiar structure of GR with respect to the other interactions for which the quantization tools have been developed. A peculiarity of GR is that the action contains second derivatives of fields. Indeed, a formulation with up to first derivatives exists, Einstein-Cartan gravity. We are going to outline how the constraints in Einstein-Cartan gravity take a simple form in loop representation, which allows us to manage them as quantum operators acting on Wilson loops of the spin connections. The issue is now that the system of constraints is second-class and the Dirac prescription is generically inconsistent. We propose a way to circumvent the second class character of the system of constraints on a quantum level, by performing a continuum limit.
The continuum limit is a key-point of any quantum theory of gravity. In WdW formulation, one deals with a continuous model, in which fields operators act as distributions. This poses several problems concerning regularization, since infinities are known to arise (see for instance \cite{KowalskiGlikman:1996ad,Blaut:1997zr}). A different point of view is commonly accepted in LQG. The idea is that the final theory is discrete and finite, such that once a discretization has been introduced, all physical quantities (included constraints) are finite. Hence, the continuum limit is just a tool to infer the low-energy limit of the theory, but the theory is fundamentally discrete. This interpretation is supported by the general expectation of a discrete geometry in Quantum Gravity.
Here instead, we consider a model which makes sense only in the continuum and we use the discretization only as a tool to solve the model. We will see how after the removal of the regulator ($\epsilon\rightarrow 0$) some operator diverges. This is not necessary an issue, since they are distributions ab-initio, and we require the corresponding constraints to hold as distributions as well, {\it i.e.} modulo some diverging ($1/\epsilon$) factors. This is the same kind of interpretation adopted in lattice gauge theories, in which the lattice is not physical.
In particular, we will consider as states the Wilson loops of the spin connection, which are constructed out of holonomies of the Lorentz group. This will lead us to consider irreducible representations of the Lorentz group, which are generically infinite-dimensional.
The study of irreducible representations of the Lorentz group has been originally performed in connection with conformal covariant models of interacting scalar fields (see \cite{Dobrev:1976vr} and references therein). Then, it has been reconsidered in Quantum Gravity in order to give a Lorentz covariant description of the $SU(2)$ connections of LQG \cite{Alexandrov:2001wt,Alexandrov:2002br,Engle:2007wy,Alexandrov:2010un,Ding:2010fw}. However, the description in terms of Lorentz representations has been proposed only as an intermediate step, the final aim being getting $SU(2)$ representations. In fact, on a quantum level a crucial technical simplification occurs when working with a compact group: the measure can be inherited from the Haar measure of the group which is bounded.
Here, we consider ab-initio Lorentz holonomies and decompose into irreducible Lorentz representation, so we deal with un-normalized states already on a kinematical level, but we will outline how the expression of the scalar constraint simplifies with respect to LQG. The result of this analysis is a condition fixing the quantum numbers of the Wilson loops which are annihilated by the scalar constraint. We will demonstrate that a solution exists and it is given by finite dimensional representations.
\section{Hamiltonian analysis of Einstein-Cartan gravity}
The analysis of the Einstein-Cartan action in the tetrad formalism is relatively simple and shares some similarities with topological BF theory \cite{Birmingham:1991ty} (see \cite{Freidel:2012np} for a comparison). The action can be written as (in units $c=8\pi G=1$)
\be
S=\frac{1}{2}\int e\,e^\mu_I\,e^\nu_J\,R^{IJ}_{\mu\nu}\,d^4x\,,\label{EH}
\ee
$e^\mu_I$ being inverse tetrads, which are related to the metric tensor $g_{\mu\nu}=\eta_{IJ}\,e^I_\mu\,e^J_\nu$,
$e$ is the determinant of $e^I_\mu$, while $R^{IJ}_{\mu\nu}$ is the curvature of the spin connection $\omega^{IJ}_\mu$, namely
\be
R^{IJ}_{\mu\nu}=\partial_\mu\omega^{IJ}_\nu-\partial_\nu\omega^{IJ}_\mu+\omega^{IK}_\mu\,\omega^{\phantom1J}_{K\phantom1\nu}-\omega^{IK}_\nu\,\omega^{\phantom1J}_{K\phantom1\mu}\,.
\ee
In BF theory the Hodge dual of a generic two form $B^{IJ}_{\mu\nu}$ replaces $e\,e^\mu_I\,e^\nu_J$ and the theory is topological since from the variation with respect to $B^{IJ}_{\mu\nu}$ it follows that the curvature vanishes.
The total Hamiltonian is a linear combination of the following constraints \cite{Cianfrani:2008zv} (see also \cite{libro})
\begin{equation}
\begin{split}
&\mathcal{S}=\pi^a_{IK}\,\pi^{bK}_{\phantom1J}\,R^{IJ}_{ab}=0 \\\\
&\mathcal{V}_a= \pi^b_{IJ}\,R^{IJ}_{ab}=0 \\\\
&G_{IJ}=D^{(\omega)}_a\pi^{a}_{IJ}=\partial_a\pi^a_{IJ}-2\omega_{a[I}^{\phantom1\phantom2K}\,\pi^a_{|K|J]}=0 \\\\
&C^{ab}=\epsilon^{IJKL}\,\pi_{IJ}^{(a}\,\pi_{KL}^{b)}=0 \\\\
&D^{ab}=\epsilon^{IJKL}\,\pi^c_{IM}\,\pi^{(aM}_{\phantom1\phantom2J}\,D^{(\omega)}_c\pi^{b)}_{KL}=0
\end{split}.\label{hcon}
\end{equation}
where $\pi^a_{IJ}$ denotes the conjugate momentum of $\omega^{IJ}_a$. The first two constraints are the scalar and vector constraints, which modulo the third one, coincide with the supermomentum and superHamiltonian constraints of the ADM formulation. Hence, they are associated with the invariance under coordinate transformations in the 3+1 representation. The third constraint is the Gauss constraint generating local Lorentz transformations and it arises in view of the invariance of the whole formulation under Lorentz transformations acting on internal indexes (which by definition do not change the form of the metric).
The last two constraints make the whole system of constraints second-class, since $\{C^{ab},D^{cd}\}$ and $\{D^{ab},D^{cd}\}$ do not vanish on the constraint hypersurface
On a quantum level, the role of second-class constraints is more elusive than in classical physics. The standard Dirac procedure for quantization of first class constraints cannot generically be applied. In fact, let us suppose to have two second-class constraints $A_1=0$ and $A_2=0$, with $\{A_1,A_2\}=B\neq0$. If we quantize the system and we consider same states $\psi$ in the kernel of the operator $\hat{A}_1$, {\it i.e.} $\hat{A}_1\psi=0$, then the action of the operator $\hat{A}_2$ takes $\psi$ out of the kernel, since
\be
\hat{A}_1\,\hat{A}_2 \psi = \hat{A}_2\,\hat{A}_1 \psi + \hat{B} \psi= \hat{B} \psi\,.
\ee
This is the case, unless one can solve both $\hat{A}_1\psi=0$ and $\hat{A}_2\psi=0$, which imply that the operator associated to $B$ vanishes. Of course, one should verify a posteriori whether such a restriction of states is too strong.
Returning to gravity, it is worth noting how the constraint $D^{ab}$ makes the whole system of constraints second-class, since the non vanishing Poisson brackets are $\{C^{ab},D^{cd}\}$ and $\{D^{ab},D^{cd}\}$. A closer inspection on how the constraints \eqref{hcon} emerge reveals that
\be
D^{ab}= \{C^{ab},\mathcal{S}\}+\ldots\,,\label{D}
\ee
where $\ldots$ denote terms proportional to the Gauss constraint.
In what follows, we will show that it is possible to define some states $\psi$ which are in the kernel of the operator corresponding to $C^{ab}$ and that we can construct $\hat{\mathcal{S}}$ such that its action does not take states out of the kernel in the continuum limit. This achievement solves on a quantum level all the issues related with the second class character of the system of constraints \eqref{hcon}, since the operator associated to $D^{ab}$, defined from \eqref{D}, vanishes. Moreover, we will also derive a class of states which are annihilated by $\mathcal{S}$. These states are naturally candidates for being physical states of quantum gravity.
\section{Wilson loops of the Lorentz group}
Let us consider a loop representation for quantum gravity, in which states are defined as Wilson loops $W_\alpha(\omega)$ of the spin connection along some loop $\alpha$, {\it i.e.} as the trace of the holonomy along $\alpha$
\be
W^{k,\rho}_{\alpha}(\omega)=Tr\left[h^{k,\rho}_\alpha(\omega)\right]=Tr\Bigg[P\left(\exp\int_\alpha \omega^{IJ}_a dx^a\,\tau^{k,\rho}_{IJ}\right)\Bigg]\,,
\ee
$\tau^{k,\rho}_{IJ}$ being Lorentz generators in the irreducible representation $(k,\rho)$. Here, we refer to Naimark classification of Lorentz irreducible representations \cite{Naimark} (a brief introduction is also given in \cite{Cianfrani:2010jf}), in which $k$ is a integer or semi-integer non-negative number and $\rho\in\mathbb{C}$. Each representation is constructed as a tower of $SU(2)$ irreducible representations with spin numbers $j$ from $k$ up to infinity, {\it i.e.}
\be
W^{k,\rho}=\oplus_{j=k}^{+\infty}\, W^{j}\,.
\ee
Let us stress that working with holonomies of the Lorentz group is much more complicated than, for instance, with $SU(2)$ holonomies. The Haar measure of Lorentz group is unbounded, since the group is noncompact, and irreducible representations are generically infinite-dimensional. Hence, we cannot rigorously define the kinematical Hilbert space as in LQG.
There are two different kinds of representations: the complementary series for $k=0$ and imaginary $\rho$ (and it is unitary for $0\leq |\rho| \leq 1$), the principal series for real $\rho$.
Momenta $\pi^a_{IJ}$ are smeared over surfaces $S$ and their action provides the insertion of a Lorentz generator at the intersection point $P$ between $\alpha$ and $S$ (if there is no intersection the momentum operator vanishes)
\be
\hat{\pi}_{IJ}(S)\,W_\alpha(\omega)=i\,o_{(\alpha,S)}\, Tr\left[h_{\alpha_1}\,\tau_{IJ}\,h_{\alpha_2}\right]\,,\label{pi}
\ee
where $o_{(\alpha,S)}=\pm1,0$ depending on the relative orientation between $S$ and $\alpha$, and $\alpha=\alpha_1\cup\alpha_2\quad P=\alpha_1\cap\alpha_2$.
These states are invariant under local Lorentz transformations, thus the condition $\hat{G}_{IJ}\,W_{\alpha}=0$ holds. The vector constraint $\mathcal{V}_a$ generates spatial diffeomorphisms and, mimicking the procedure adopted in Loop Quantum Gravity, one can formally solve it by defining states over s-knots $[\alpha]$, {\it i.e.} over the equivalence classes of loops under diffeomorphisms \cite{Ashtekar:1995zh}.
The operators associated to $C^{ab}(x)$ can be defined via a proper regularization prescription. We can replace the two momenta with the associated fluxes across two surfaces with infinitesimal area $\epsilon^2$ \footnote{There is no background structure, thus no metric, but there are coordinates, which allow us to define coordinated length, area and volume}. The resulting expression converges to the continuum one in the limit $\epsilon\rightarrow0$ and it is ready to be quantized. This way, we get the following operator associated to $C^{ab}$
\be
\hat{C}^{ab}(x)=\lim_{\epsilon\rightarrow 0} \frac{1}{\epsilon^4} \,\epsilon^{IJKL}\,\hat{\pi}_{IJ}(S_x^a)\,\hat{\pi}_{KL}(S_x^b)\,,\label{10}
\ee
where $S_x^a$ denotes a surface containing $x$ dual to the direction $a$. It is worth noting that the operator above is not regularized, as it diverges in the limit $\epsilon\rightarrow 0$. This is not surprising, since its classical counterpart is quadratic in momenta, thus it is a distribution with the same degree of divergence. This also means that if the operator vanishes it does as a distribution (times a diverging factor in the continuum limit). Hence, one can define a renormalized operator $\hat{C}^{ab}_{ren}=\epsilon^{4}\,C^{ab}$ and work with only finite quantities.
This way, one gets (see appendix \ref{A})
\be
\hat{C}^{ab}_{ren}(x)\,W^{k,\rho}_\alpha(\omega)=o_{(\alpha,S_x^a)}\,o_{(\alpha,S_x^b)}\,\,2k\rho\,W^{k,\rho}_\alpha(\omega)=0\,.\label{11}
\ee
and we have two possible solutions, $k=0$ and $\rho=0$. In what follows, we consider
\be
k=0\,.\label{k0}
\ee
\section{Scalar Constraint}
In order to construct the operator associated with the scalar constraint $\mathcal{S}$, we need to replace the curvature $R^{IJ}_{ab}$ with the corresponding expression in terms of holonomies $h^{k_0,\rho_0}_l$ along same link $l$. This is generically ambiguous, since the quantum numbers $\{k_0,\rho_0\}$ of the holonomy are not specified. The action of the holonomy operator on a Wilson loop provides the insertion of the holonomy into the quantum state, if the holonomy and the original loop do not share any link, while for common links the resulting representation is obtained via recoupling theory. The recoupling theory gives the rule to combine two representations into a new one, the most celebrated sample being $SU(2)$ recoupling theory, which tell us how to sum up spins via Clebsch-Gordan coefficients (or Wigner $3j$ symbols). Similarly, one can define Clebsch-Gordan coefficients for the Lorentz group \cite{Anderson:1970ez} and the product between two holonomies along a common link $l$ provides a linear combination of holonomies along the same link with Clebsch-Gordan coefficients.
We want now to define the operator $\hat{\mathcal{S}}$ such that in the continuum limit it does not take us out of the space in which \eqref{k0} holds. In other words, we see the discretization of the spatial manifold as a pure regularization {\it i.e.} as a mere formal way to do computations, and we check the consistency of our results (in this case the consistency between the constraints $C^{ab}=0$ and $\mathcal{S}=0$) only after having removed the regulator.
Let us now construct explicitly the operator $\hat{\mathcal{S}}(x)$, corresponding to $\mathcal{S}(x)$. Similarly to the operator $\hat{C}^{ab}$, $\mathcal{S}$ can be defined as follows
\begin{equation}
\hat{\mathcal{S}}(x)=\lim_{\epsilon\rightarrow 0} \frac{A}{\epsilon^6}\,\hat{\mathcal{S}}_{ren}(x)\qquad
\hat{\mathcal{S}}_{ren}(x)=\hat{\pi}^{I}_{\phantom1K}(S_x^a)\,\hat{\pi}^{KJ}(S_x^b)\,\, Tr\left[\tau^{0,\rho_0}_{IJ}\,h^{0,\rho_0}_{\Omega^x_{ab}}
\right]+Tr\left[\tau^{0,\rho_0}_{IJ}\,h^{0,\rho_0}_{\Omega^x_{ab}}\right
]\,\,\hat{\pi}^{KJ}(S_x^b)\,\hat{\pi}^{I}_{\phantom1K}(S_x^a)\,,\label{Sv}
\end{equation}
$\Omega^x_{ab}$ being a loop constructed with the dual links to $S^x_a$ and $S^x_b$, while $A$ denotes a normalization factor such that $Tr[\tau^{0,\rho_0}_{KL}\tau^{0,\rho_0}_{KL}]=A^{-1}\,\eta_{I[K}\, \eta_{L]J}$. In the expression above we choose a symmetric ordering between the holonomy and flux operators.
We introduced the renormalized operator $\hat{\mathcal{S}}_{ren}(x)$, in which we removed the $1/\epsilon^6$ factor and also the constant $A$, which diverges for infinite representations.
The action of $\hat{\mathcal{S}}$ on $W_{\alpha}$ (see appendix \ref{B}) provides the insertion of the loop $\Omega^x_{ab}$ and of three Lorentz generators, corresponding to the two momenta and the Lorentz generator within the trace in \eqref{Sv}. The nontrivial case is that in which the loop $\Omega^x_{ab}$ and $\alpha$ have one edge in common, such that Lorentz recoupling theory has to be applied to infer the representation based at that edge. Even if we choose the quantum numbers $(k_0,\rho_0)$ of the holonomy along $\Omega^x_{ab}$ such that \eqref{11} holds, namely $k_0=0$, the recoupling theory between states with quantum numbers $(0,\rho)$ and $(0,\rho_0)$ provides some representations $(k',\rho')$ with $k'\neq 0$, such that resulting state is not anymore a solution of \eqref{11}.
However, in the continuum limit the loop $\Omega^x_{ab}$ shrinks to a point and, taking care of the presence of Lorentz generators, one can see how the resulting state does not contain any representation violating the condition \eqref{k0}. In this sense, we circumvent the second-class character of the system of constraints \eqref{hcon}.
Furthermore, one can demonstrate how the condition $\hat{\mathcal{S}}_{ren}(x) W^{0,\rho}_\alpha(\omega)=0$ holds if
\be
\sum_{k'}\int d\mu(k',\rho')\,(-k'^2+\rho')^2= \rho^2\,\sum_{k'}\int d\mu(k',\rho') \,,\label{fc2}
\ee
where the sum and the integrals extends over all the admissible values of $k'$ and $\rho'$, {\it i.e.} those for which the Clebsch-Gordan coefficient of the Lorentz group $C^{0\rho j m}_{k'\rho' j' m'\,0\rho_0j_0m_0}$ is nonvanishing. Generically, it is very hard to manage an expression like that, because the integral extends over an unbounded domain. In what follows, we will outline how \eqref{fc2} is solved for finite dimensional representations.
\section{Finite dimensional representations}
Finite dimensional representations of the Lorentz group can be obtained as the direct product of two complexified $SU(2)$ representations $D^{j0}$ and $D^{0j'}$, which are associated with the two $SU(2)$ subalgebras contained into the Lorentz algebra. We can represent them as follows \cite{Rao}
\be
D^{jj'}=D^{j0} \times D^{0j'}\,,\label{djj'}
\ee
$D^{j0}$ and $D^{0j'}$ being $SU(2)$ representations analytically continued to complex angles and related via complex conjugation
\be
\left(D^{0j}\right)^*=D^{j0}\,.
\ee
Finite dimensional representations in Naimark classifications have the following quantum numbers
\be
k=|j-j'|\qquad |\rho|=1+j+j'\,,
\ee
where $\rho$ is imaginary, and they describe a tower of $SU(2)$ irreducible representations with spin number from $k$ up to $j+j'$.
The recoupling theory can be inferred from that of $SU(2)$, as follows
\begin{align}
D^{j_1j'_1} \otimes D^{j_2j_2'}=& \left(D^{j_10}\otimes D^{j_20}\right) \otimes \left(D^{0j_1'}\otimes D^{0j_2'}\right) = \nonumber\\
&\oplus^{j_1+j_2}_{j=|j_1-j_2|} \oplus^{j'_1+j'_2}_{j'=|j'_1-j'_2|} D^{jj'}\,.\label{rec}
\end{align}
The same relations \eqref{djj'} and \eqref{rec} hold for Euclidean gravity, {\it i.e.} if the Lorentz group is replaced by $SO(4)$. Hence, all the conclusions we will infer for finite representations of the Lorentz group are valid in the Euclidean case too, but in that case the representation \eqref{djj'} describes a couple of independent $SU(2)$ representations with spins $j$ and $j'$.
Going back to gravity, \eqref{11} is solved for
\be
j=j'\,,
\ee
such that we are interested in those states of the form $D^{jj}$. Taking $D^{j_0j_0}$ for the holonomy in the regularized expression of the scalar constraint, the admissible quantum numbers $k'$ and $\rho'$ can be directly computed from the recoupling theory \eqref{rec}, {\it i.e.}
\be
D^{j_0j_0}\otimes D^{jj} =
\oplus_{I=j-j_0}^{j+j_0}\oplus_{I'=j-j_0}^{j+j_0}D^{II'}\,.
\ee
Hence, there are $(2j_0+1)^2$ admissible values for $(k',\rho')$, corresponding to $(|I-I'|,1+I+I')$ for $I,I'=j-j_0,\ldots,j+j_0$, such that the condition \eqref{fc2} becomes a finite summation over them. In particular, the right-hand side of \eqref{fc2} becomes
\be
\rho^2\,\sum_{(k',\rho')} =(2j_0+1)^2 (2j+1)^2\,,\label{rhs}
\ee
where we used $\rho=2j+1$, while the left-hand side rewrites
\be
\sum_{(k',\rho')} ((\rho')^2-k'^2)= \sum_{I,I'=j-j_0}^{j+j_0} \left[(1+I+I')^2-(I-I')^2\right]\,.
\ee
Surprisingly, the explicit computation of the expression above gives
\be
\sum_{I,I'=j-j_0}^{j+j_0} \left[(1+I+I')^2-(I-I')^2\right]=(2j_0+1)^2 (2j+1)^2\,,
\ee
which coincides with \eqref{rhs}.
Therefore, the condition \eqref{fc2} holds identically for finite representations. This means that $D^{jj}$ are simultaneous solutions of both the condition $C^{ab}=0$ and the scalar constraint in the continuum limit.
\section{Conclusions}
We have derived a procedure to define a class of states which are annihilated by the constraints of gravity in Einstein-Cartan formulation. In particular, we avoided the issues concerning the second-class character of the system of constraints \eqref{hcon}, by defining the scalar constraint mapping states in the kernel of $\hat{C}$ within themselves. In order to do that, we need to perform a continuum limit first. This means that the theory is consistent only after the continuum limit has been taken. Hence, the adopted regularization is just a formal tool to perform some calculations and has nothing to do with a physical quantum description for gravity. It is worth noting how this is exactly the status of lattice-regularization in Quantum Field Theories, while in Quantum Gravity the general expectation of a fundamental discrete geometric structure suggested to promote the lattice to a real description of the physical reality.
It is worth noting the differences with LQG and Spin Foam models. We considered pure Einstein-Cartan action, thus no Immirzi parameter is present (although it can be included). We did not really define a kinematical Hilbert space on which the constraints are well-defined operators, we just require the preHilbert space to be large enough to contain holonomies and left/right-invariant vector fields. The kinematical scalar product is problematic (but not the physical one) because we are dealing with a non-compact gauge group and the associated Haar measure is unbounded. Furthermore, the constraints operators are not regularized, but contain a diverging factor in the continuum limit. In some sense, we are less ambitious and rigorous than LQG and, inspired by topological theories, we are just looking for some states which are solutions of constraints. This is legitimate, since the kinematical Hilbert space may not be necessary at all and, even if it can be defined, it does not necessarily give us information on the space of physical states (see for instance \cite{Dittrich:2007th}).
In the covariant version of LQG, one identifies the kinematical states (which are boundary states for Spin Foam models) as certain $SU(2)$ subrepresentations within each Lorentz irreps \cite{Ding:2010fw}. Here, one finds that physical states are finite dimensional Lorentz irreps, thus a finite tower of $SU(2)$ representations, and the action of boosts can be naturally implemented on them (while in LQG their action is trivial, being proportional to that of rotations). Hence, the physical states of our model are different from the kinematical states of covariant LQG. It cannot be excluded that the two kinds of states can be related via a sort of gauge-fixing of boosts, as soon as the present analysis is repeated with the Holst modification of Einstein-Cartan action. However, it is worth noting that our states are physical and they can be found just because of the simplifications occurring in the scalar constraint when local boosts are not fixed.
In order to gain some intuition whether the states we found can capture the relevant features of the gravitational field we need to perform a proper semiclassical limit and study the behavior of observables. The lack of observables and of proper semiclassical techniques requires a theoretical effort to try to characterize the behavior of our solutions. Up to now, our states just stand as mere candidates for a full quantum theory of gravity. \\\\\\
{\bf Acknowledgment-}
FC is supported by funds provided by the National Science Center under the agreement
DEC-2011/02/A/ST2/00294.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaArXiv"
}
| 4,193
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Q: django import-export, export multiple many to many models I have Rule Model which has multiple RuleCondtion and RuleAction. I want to export these into a csv file. I am using django import-export for this.
Example:
name, priority, tags, conditions, actions
Rule 1, 1000, "tag1,tag2", "[{"identifier":"A", "operator":"B"..}]", "[{"identifier":"A", "operator":"B"..}]"
My Models:
class Rule(models.Model):
name = models.CharField(max_length=128, help_text="Name of Rule")
description = models.TextField(help_text="Brief Description of Rule", blank=True)
priority = models.IntegerField(default=1000, help_text="Priority of rule, lesser applies first")
created_at = models.DateTimeField(auto_now_add=True)
updated_at = models.DateTimeField(auto_now=True)
tags = models.ManyToManyField('Tag', blank=True)
disabled = models.BooleanField(default=True)
def __str__(self):
return self.name
class RuleCondition(models.Model):
identifier = models.CharField(max_length=128, help_text="Select a Property", blank=True)
operator = models.CharField(max_length=128, help_text="Select an Operator", blank=True, choices=CONDITION_OPERATOR_CHOICES)
value = models.TextField(help_text="Content to match the rule")
rule = models.ForeignKey('Rule', on_delete=models.CASCADE, related_name='conditions')
created_at = models.DateTimeField(auto_now_add=True)
updated_at = models.DateTimeField(auto_now=True)
def __str__(self):
return 'Rule Condition ' + str(self.id)
class RuleAction(models.Model):
identifier = models.CharField(max_length=128, help_text="Select a Property", blank=True)
operator = models.CharField(max_length=128, help_text="Select an Operator", blank=True, choices=ACTION_OPERATOR_CHOICES)
value = models.TextField(help_text="Content to apply on the rule")
rule = models.ForeignKey('Rule', on_delete=models.CASCADE, related_name='actions')
created_at = models.DateTimeField(auto_now_add=True)
updated_at = models.DateTimeField(auto_now=True)
def __str__(self):
return 'Rule Action ' + str(self.id)
How can I achieve this, there is no option in the django import-export to do this.
A: Figured it out. Here is the code. Override the internal function of django-import-export.
import json
from import_export import resources, fields
from django.core import serializers
from .models import Rule, Tag, RuleCondition, RuleAction
from import_export.widgets import JSONWidget, ManyToManyWidget, ForeignKeyWidget
class RuleOperationsWidget(ManyToManyWidget):
def render(self, value, obj=None):
return json.dumps(
list(value.values('identifier', 'operator', 'value')),
)
class RuleResource(resources.ModelResource):
tags = fields.Field(
attribute='tags',
widget=ManyToManyWidget(model=Tag, separator=',', field='name'),
)
conditions = fields.Field(
attribute='conditions',
widget=RuleOperationsWidget(model=RuleCondition),
)
actions = fields.Field(
attribute='actions',
widget=RuleOperationsWidget(model=RuleAction),
)
class Meta:
model = Rule
exclude = ('created_at', 'updated_at', 'id',)
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
}
| 2,754
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\section{Introduction}
\begin{defin} A real polynomial will be called a real Morse
polynomial if:
\begin{itemize} \item all its critical points (i.e. roots of its
derivative) are real and have multiplicity 2 (i.e. all roots of
derivative are real and simple); \item all its critical values are
pairwise different; \item the leading coefficient is 1.
\end{itemize}
\end{defin}\pn The plot of
such polynomial will be called (after Arnold \cite{Ar}) a "snake".
A snake of order $n$ is the plot of a real Morse polynomial of
degree $n+1$. It has $n$ alternating local minima and maxima. \pmn
Let's enumerate critical points in the increasing order and
critical values also in the increasing order. The number of the
first critical value will be called the \emph{level} of a snake.
To an $n$-snake we will correspond a permutation $a_1,\ldots,a_n$,
where $a_i$ is the number of critical value in the $i$-th critical
point. Thus defined permutation will be called the \emph{passport}
of a snake (polynomial). Two snakes with the same passports will
be considered equal and two real Morse polynomials with equal
passports will be called $s$-equivalent.
\begin{defin} A permutation $a_1,\ldots,a_n$ is called \emph{alternating},
if a short sequence $a_i,a_{i+1},a_{i+2}$ is not monotone for any $i$,
$1\leqslant i\leqslant n-2$. \end{defin}
\pn The passport of a snake is an alternating permutation. The
level of an alternating permutation is its first element. As we
study plots of normalized polynomials, then the level of a snake
of even order $n$ is greater, than 1 (because the first extremum
of a normalized polynomial of odd degree is maximum), and the
level of a snake of odd order $n$ is less, than $n$ (because the
first extremum of a normalized polynomial of even order is
minimum). Thus, we will study not all alternating permutations,
but \emph{proper} alternating permutations. The level of such
permutation from $S_n$ is greater, than 1, for even $n$, and less,
than $n$, for odd $n$. \begin{rem} The answer to the natural
question: is it true that any proper alternating permutation is a
passport of some snake?, is positive (see \cite{IZ} and
bibliography there).\end{rem} \pn In what follows PAP will be a
proper alternating permutation.
\begin{ex} There are 5 PAPs of order 4:
$(4,2,3,1)$, $(3,2,4,1)$, $(4,1,3,2)$, $(3,1,4,2)$ and $(2,1,4,3)$,
and there are 5 snakes of order 4:
\[\begin{picture}(380,65) \multiput(0,14)(10,0){38}{\line(1,0){6}}
\multiput(0,28)(10,0){38}{\line(1,0){6}}
\multiput(0,42)(10,0){38}{\line(1,0){6}}
\multiput(0,56)(10,0){38}{\line(1,0){6}}
\qbezier(0,5)(5,56)(10,56) \qbezier(10,56)(13,56)(17,42)
\qbezier(17,42)(21,28)(24,28) \qbezier(24,28)(27,28)(30,35)
\qbezier(30,35)(33,42)(36,42) \qbezier(36,42)(39,42)(43,28)
\qbezier(43,28)(47,14)(50,14) \qbezier(50,14)(55,14)(60,62)
\put(30,2){\scriptsize 1}
\qbezier(80,5)(85,42)(90,42) \qbezier(90,42)(93,42)(96,35)
\qbezier(96,36)(99,28)(102,28) \qbezier(102,28)(105,28)(109,42)
\qbezier(109,42)(113,56)(116,56) \qbezier(116,56)(120,56)(124,35)
\qbezier(124,35)(128,14)(132,14) \qbezier(132,14)(137,14)(142,62)
\put(110,2){\scriptsize 2}
\qbezier(160,5)(165,56)(170,56) \qbezier(170,56)(174,56)(178,35)
\qbezier(178,35)(182,14)(186,14) \qbezier(186,14)(189,14)(193,28)
\qbezier(193,28)(197,42)(200,42) \qbezier(200,42)(203,42)(206,35)
\qbezier(206,35)(209,28)(212,28) \qbezier(212,28)(216,28)(220,62)
\put(190,2){\scriptsize 3}
\qbezier(240,5)(245,42)(250,42) \qbezier(250,42)(253,42)(257,28)
\qbezier(257,28)(261,14)(264,14) \qbezier(264,14)(268,14)(272,35)
\qbezier(272,35)(276,56)(280,56) \qbezier(280,56)(283,56)(287,42)
\qbezier(287,42)(291,28)(294,28) \qbezier(294,28)(298,28)(302,62)
\put(272,2){\scriptsize 4}
\qbezier(320,5)(324,28)(328,28) \qbezier(328,28)(331,28)(334,21)
\qbezier(334,21)(337,14)(340,14) \qbezier(340,14)(344,14)(348,35)
\qbezier(348,35)(352,56)(356,56) \qbezier(356,56)(359,56)(362,49)
\qbezier(362,49)(365,42)(368,42) \qbezier(368,42)(372,42)(376,62)
\put(348,2){\scriptsize 5}
\end{picture}\]
\begin{center}{\Large Figure 1}\end{center}
\end{ex}
\begin{rem} There are 16 PAPs of order 5 and 16 snakes
of order 5. \end{rem}
\section{The enumeration of PAPs}
\pn Let us introduce a procedure, that transform a PAP of order
$n$ and level $m$ into PAP of order $n+1$: we add the first
element $k$ and all elements $<k$ will be the same and all
elements $\geqslant k$ will be increased by 1. If $n$ is even then
$1\leqslant k\leqslant m$. If $n$ is odd then $m<k\leqslant n+1$.
For example,
$$(3,1,5,2,6,4)\quad\text{add 2}\quad\Rightarrow (2,4,1,6,3,7,5),$$
$$(2,4,1,5,3)\quad\text{add 4}\quad\Rightarrow (4,2,5,1,6,3).$$
Obviously, this procedure transforms PAP into PAP.\pmn The inverse
procedure --- the deletion of the first element: we delete the
first element $m$, all elements $<m$ remain the same, all elements
$>m$ are decreased by 1. \pmn Thus, any PAP of order $n+1$ can be
uniquely obtained from some PAP of order $n$. \pmn Let $s(n,m)$ be
the number of PAP of order $n$ and level $m$. If $n$ is even then
$$s(n+1,m)=s(n,m)+\ldots+s(n,n)\,.\eqno(1)$$ If $n$ is odd then
$$s(n+1,m)=s(n,1)+\ldots+s(n,m-1)\,.\eqno(2)$$ Thus,
$$\begin{array}{l} s(6,2)=s(5,1)\\ s(6,3)=s(5,1)+s(5,2)\\ s(6,4)=
s(5,1)+s(5,2)+s(5,3)\\ s(6,5)=s(5,1)+s(5,2)+s(5,3)+s(5,4)\\
s(6,6)=s(5,1)+s(5,2)+s(5,3)+s(5,4)\end{array}$$ (we remind that
$s(5,5)=0$ and $s(6,1)=0$). Analogously,
$$\begin{array}{l}s(5,1)=s(4,2)+s(4,3)+s(4,4)\\ s(5,2)=s(4,2)+s(4,3)+
s(4,4)\\ s(5,3)=s(4,3)+s(4,4)\\ s(5,4)=s(4,4) \end{array}$$ (we
remind that $s(4,1)=0$ and $s(5,5)=0$). \pmn Now we can construct
the triangle of PAPs --- the Euler-Bernoulli triangle (see
\cite{Ar}). In $n$-th row we write numbers $s(n,1),\ldots,s(n,n)$
from left to right. The case $s(1,1)$ is special, we put
$s(1,1)=1$. From (1) and (2) we have that an element in an even
row is the sum of elements in the previous row that are to the
left of our element, and an element in an odd row is the sum of
elements in the previous row that are to the right of our element.
Below are presented the first 5 rows of our triangle:
$$\begin{array}{ccccccccc}&&&&1&&&&\\ &&&0&&1&&&\\ &&1&&1&&0&&\\
&0&&1&&2&&2&\\ 5&&5&&4&&2&&0\end{array}$$
\section{Polynomials of degree 5}
\pn Our aim is to describe the partition of the space of real
Morse polynomials of degrees 5 and 6 into components of
s-equivalency. In this section we will consider polynomials of
degree 5. \pmn At first let us introduce a convenient
parametrization. Let $p$ be a real Morse polynomial of degree 5.
We will assume that: a) roots of its derivative are non positive
and one root is zero; b) the sum of roots of $p'$ is $-3$. It
means that $p'=x^4+3x^3+bx^2+cx$, where $b>0$ and $c>0$. \pmn Let
us note that if coefficients of the polynomial $q=x^3+3x^2+bx+c$
are positive, then its roots are negative (and their sum is $-3$).
Indeed, let $q=(x+x_1)(x+x_2)(x+x_3)$, then either all $x_i>0$, or
$x_1>0$ and $x_2<0,x_3<0$. Let us consider the second case and let
$y_2=-x_2>0$ and $y_3=-x_3>0$, then $x_1=3+y_2+y_3$ and
$y_2y_3>x_1(y_2+y_3)=3(y_2+y_3)+y_2^2+2y_2y_3+y_3^2$.
Contradiction. \pmn We will work with the polynomial
$q=x^3+3x^2+bx+c$ with negative pairwise different roots. Then
$b\leqslant 3$ and $c\leqslant 1$. The discriminant $dq$ of $q$ is
$dq=54bc-108c-4b^3+9b^2-27c^2$ and the plot of the curve $dq=0$ in
the rectangle $[0,3]\times [0,1]$ is presented below:
\[\begin{picture}(200,100) \put(0,15){\vector(1,0){145}}
\put(10,5){\vector(0,1){90}} \put(144,5){\scriptsize b}
\put(3,91){\scriptsize c} \qbezier(10,15)(60,15)(130,85)
\qbezier(100,15)(110,65)(130,85) \put(133,82){\scriptsize A}
\put(99,6){\scriptsize B} \put(14,6){\scriptsize O}
\end{picture}\] The point $A$ has coordinates $(3,1)$ and is a cusp of
the curve $dq=0$. The line $y=x-2$ is the tangent line to the
curve at this point. The point $B$ has coordinates $(9/4,0)$ and
the line $y=\frac 32 x-\frac{27}{8}$ is the tangent line to the
curve at this point. In the origin the curve $dq=0$ is tangent to
axis $OX$. For points in the curvilinear triangle $OAB$ the
polynomial $q$ has three real roots. \pmn We must also demand that
critical values of polynomial $p=\int xq(x)\,dx$ are pairwise
different. Let us consider two conditions
$$g(b,c)=128b^3-1998b^2-216c^2+1512bc+3645b-729c\neq 0$$ and
$$h(b,c)=640b^3-1350b^2+5832c^2-9720bc+18225c\neq 0\,.$$ The
satisfaction of the first condition guarantee that values of the
polynomial $p$ in roots of $q$ are pairwise different and the
satisfaction of the second condition guarantee that these values
are nonzero. \pmn The curve $g=0$ is an arc inside $OAB$ that
connect $A$ with the point $D$ with coordinates $(135/64,0)$.
\[\begin{picture}(200,100) \put(0,15){\vector(1,0){145}}
\put(10,5){\vector(0,1){90}} \put(144,5){\scriptsize b}
\put(3,91){\scriptsize c} \qbezier(10,15)(60,15)(130,85)
\qbezier(100,15)(110,65)(130,85) \put(133,82){\scriptsize A}
\put(99,6){\scriptsize B} \put(14,6){\scriptsize O}
\qbezier[50](130,85)(100,55)(80,15) \put(79,6){\scriptsize D}
\end{picture}\] The line $y=\frac 54 x-\frac{675}{256}$ is tangent to
the curve $g=0$ at the point $D$. \pmn The plot of the curve $h=0$
inside $OAB$ is presented below:
\[\begin{picture}(200,100) \put(0,15){\vector(1,0){145}}
\put(10,5){\vector(0,1){90}} \put(144,5){\scriptsize b}
\put(3,91){\scriptsize c} \qbezier(10,15)(60,15)(130,85)
\qbezier(100,15)(110,65)(130,85) \put(133,82){\scriptsize A}
\put(99,6){\scriptsize B} \put(14,6){\scriptsize O}
\put(79,6){\scriptsize D} \put(114,47){\scriptsize E}
\qbezier[40](110,50)(100,40)(80,15) \put(110,50){\circle*{2}}
\qbezier[60](110,50)(75,15)(10,15) \put(80,15){\circle*{2}}
\end{picture}\] The point $E$ with coordinates $(45/16,25/32)$ is
the cusp point of the curve $h=0$. Lines $y=\frac 56
x-\frac{25}{16}$ and $y= \frac 54 x-\frac{175}{64}$ are tangent
lines to curves $h=0$ and $dq=0$ at this point. Lines $g=0$ and
$h=0$ are tangent to each other at the point $D$. \pmn In figure
below we demonstrate how the curvilinear triangle $OAB$ is
partitioned into five curvilinear triangles by curves $g=0$ and
$h=0$.
\[\begin{picture}(180,135) \put(10,10){\line(1,0){110}}
\put(90,10){\line(2,3){80}} \qbezier(10,10)(90,10)(170,130)
\put(120,10){\line(1,3){20}} \qbezier(140,70)(150,100)(170,130)
\qbezier(140,70)(110,40)(90,10) \qbezier(140,70)(80,10)(10,10)
\put(8,1){\scriptsize O} \put(88,1){\scriptsize D}
\put(118,1){\scriptsize B} \put(173,127){\scriptsize A}
\put(143,65){\scriptsize E} \put(110,48){\scriptsize F}
\end{picture}\]
\begin{center}{\Large Figure 2}\end{center}
\pmn
The point $F$ --- the intersection point of curves
$g=0$ and $h=0$ has coordinates $\approx(2.73,0.72)$. \pmn All five
snakes of order 4 are presented at Figure 1. Let
$$p(x)=5\int (x^4+3x^3+bx^2+cx)\,dx=x^5+\frac{15}{4}\,x^4+
\frac{5b}{3}\,x^3+\frac{5c}{2}\,x^2\,.$$
\begin{itemize} \item If a point with coordinates $(b,c)$ is in triangle
$OAF$, then the plot of $p$ is the first snake; \item if a point
with coordinates $(b,c)$ is in triangle $AEF$, then the plot of
$p$ is the second snake; \item if a point with coordinates $(b,c)$
is in triangle $ODF$, then the plot of $p$ is the third snake;
\item if a point with coordinates $(b,c)$ is in triangle $DEF$,
then the plot of $p$ is the forth snake; \item if a point with
coordinates $(b,c)$ is in triangle $BDE$, then the plot of $p$ is
the fifth snake.\end{itemize}
\begin{rem} If a real polynomial of degree 5 has four real critical
points but only three critical values, then the plot of this
polynomial is a "degenerate"{} snake. On the figure below are
presented all five degenerate snakes of order 4.
\[\begin{picture}(390,50) \multiput(0,14)(10,0){39}{\line(1,0){6}}
\multiput(0,28)(10,0){39}{\line(1,0){6}}
\multiput(0,42)(10,0){39}{\line(1,0){6}}
\qbezier(0,5)(7,42)(14,42) \qbezier(14,42)(17,42)(21,28)
\qbezier(21,28)(25,14)(28,14) \qbezier(28,14)(31,14)(35,28)
\qbezier(35,28)(39,42)(42,42) \qbezier(42,42)(45,42)(48,35)
\qbezier(48,35)(51,28)(54,28) \qbezier(54,28)(57,28)(60,48)
\put(30,2){\scriptsize 1}
\qbezier(80,5)(87,42)(94,42) \qbezier(94,42)(97,42)(100,35)
\qbezier(100,35)(103,28)(106,28) \qbezier(106,28)(109,28)(112,35)
\qbezier(112,35)(115,42)(118,42) \qbezier(118,42)(121,42)(125,28)
\qbezier(125,28)(129,14)(132,14) \qbezier(132,14)(139,14)(146,48)
\put(110,2){\scriptsize 2}
\qbezier(166,5)(173,42)(180,42) \qbezier(180,42)(183,42)(187,28)
\qbezier(187,28)(191,14)(194,14) \qbezier(194,14)(197,14)(200,21)
\qbezier(200,21)(203,28)(206,28) \qbezier(206,28)(209,28)(212,21)
\qbezier(212,21)(215,14)(218,14) \qbezier(218,14)(225,14)(232,48)
\put(196,2){\scriptsize 3}
\qbezier(252,5)(256,28)(260,28) \qbezier(260,28)(263,28)(266,21)
\qbezier(266,21)(269,14)(272,14) \qbezier(272,14)(275,14)(279,28)
\qbezier(279,28)(283,42)(286,42) \qbezier(286,42)(289,42)(293,28)
\qbezier(293,28)(297,14)(300,14) \qbezier(300,14)(304,14)(310,48)
\put(282,2){\scriptsize 4}
\qbezier(330,5)(334,28)(338,28) \qbezier(338,28)(341,28)(344,21)
\qbezier(344,21)(347,14)(350,14) \qbezier(350,14)(353,14)(357,28)
\qbezier(357,28)(361,42)(364,42) \qbezier(364,42)(367,42)(370,35)
\qbezier(370,35)(373,28)(376,28) \qbezier(376,28)(380,28)(385,48)
\put(360,2){\scriptsize 5} \end{picture}\]
\begin{center}{\Large Figure 3}\end{center}
\pmn Arcs, that separate curvilinear triangles in Figure 2,
correspond to degenerate snakes:
\begin{itemize} \item the arc $AF$ --- to the second degenerate snake;
\item the arc $OF$ --- to the third degenerate snake; \item the
arc $DF$ --- to the first degenerate snake; \item the arc $EF$
--- to the forth degenerate snake; \item the arc $DE$ --- to the fifth
degenerate snake. \end{itemize} \end{rem}
\section{Polynomials of degree 6}
\pn We will introduce the analogous parametrization. Let $p$ be a
real Morse polynomial. We will assume, that: a) all roots of its
derivative are non positive and pairwise different; b) one root is
zero; c) the sum of roots is $-4$. It means that
$p'=x(x^4+4x^3+ax^2+bx+x)$, where $0<a\leqslant 6$, $0<b\leqslant
4$, $0<c\leqslant 1$.
\begin{prop} If coefficients $a,b,c$ of real polynomial
$q=x^4+4x^3+ax^2+bx+c$ are positive, then its roots are negative.
\end{prop} \begin{proof} The number of positive roots must be even
(otherwise $c<0$). All roots cannot be positive, because their sum is $-4$.
Hence, we must consider the case of two positive roots $x_1$ and $x_2$
and two negative roots $-y_1$ and $-y_2$. \pmn Let $y_1+y_2=2k$ and
$x_1+x_2=2l$. Then $k-l=2$ and
$$\left\{\begin{array}{l} x_1x_2+y_1y_2>(x_1+x_2)(y_1+y_2)\\
x_1x_2(y_1+y_2)>y_1y_2(x_1+x_2)\end{array}\right.\Rightarrow
\left\{\begin{array}{l} x_1x_2+y_1y_2>4kl\\
kx_1x_2>ly_1y_2\end{array} \right.$$ As $l^2\geqslant x_1x_2$, then
$$\left\{\begin{array}{l} y_1y_2>4kl-l^2=3k^2-4k-4\\y_1y_2<kl=k^2-2k
\end{array}\right.\Rightarrow 3k^2-4k-4<k^2-2k\Rightarrow k^2-k-2<0
\Rightarrow k<2.$$ Contradiction. \end{proof} \pmn The space of
coefficients here will the the parallelepiped $\Pi$ in the axes $a,b,c$:
$\Pi=(0,6]\times (0,4]\times (0,1]$. We will study values $p(x_i)$
of the polynomial $p=\int xq(x)\,dx$, where $q=x^4+4x^3+ax^2+bx+c$ and
$x_1,x_2,x_3,x_4$ are roots of $q$. We restrict the study to those
domain of $\Pi$, where all roots of $q$ are real. \pmn Let
\begin{multline*}d(a,b,c)=16a^4c-4a^3b^2-64a^3c+16a^2b^2-320a^2bc-128a^2c^2
+72ab^3+144ab^2c+\\
+1152abc+2304ac^2-27b^4-256b^3-96b^2c-768bc^2+256c^3-6912c^2\end{multline*}
be the discriminant of $q$. We will consider sections of $\Pi$ by
planes $c=\gamma$ and will study curves $d(a,b,\gamma)=0$ in
rectangle $R=\{0\leqslant a\leqslant 6,0\leqslant b\leqslant 4\}$.
Curves $d(a,b,1)=0$ and $d(a,b,3/4)=0$ in the rectangle
$\{3\leqslant a\leqslant 6, 0\leqslant b\leqslant 4\}$ are
presented below in Figure 4.
\[\begin{picture}(365,170) \put(0,70){\vector(1,0){75}}
\put(5,65){\vector(0,1){55}} \qbezier[50](5,110)(35,110)(65,110)
\qbezier[35](65,70)(65,90)(65,110) \put(25,70){\line(1,1){40}}
\put(70,62) {\scriptsize a} \put(-3,115){\scriptsize b}
\put(23,61){\scriptsize A}
\put(100,70){\vector(1,0){75}} \put(105,65){\vector(0,1){55}}
\qbezier[50](105,110)(135,110)(165,110)
\qbezier[35](165,70)(165,90)(165,110) \put(125,70){\line(4,3){40}}
\put(170,62) {\scriptsize a} \put(97,115){\scriptsize b}
\put(123,61){\scriptsize B} \put(168,98){\scriptsize C}
\put(157,93){$\square$}
\qbezier[100](195,5)(280,5)(365,5)
\qbezier[100](195,165)(280,165)(365,165)
\qbezier[100](195,5)(195,80)(195,165)
\qbezier[100](365,5)(365,80)(365,165)
\qbezier(200,10)(282,61)(365,112) \qbezier(238,5)(300,82)(360,160)
\qbezier(200,10)(290,75)(360,160) \end{picture}\]
\begin{center}{\Large Figure 4}\end{center}
\pmn Here point $A$ has coordinates $\approx(3.76,0)$, point $B$
--- $\approx(3.82,0)$, point $C$ --- $\approx(6,3.62)$. The
picture on the right demonstrate a segment of the curve
$d(a,b,3/4)=0$ (the small square on the middle picture) in the
rectangle $\{5.63\leqslant a \leqslant 5.81,3.39\leqslant
b\leqslant 5.81\}$ (the correct scale). In this segment the curve
$d(a,b,3/4)=0$ has two cusps and one self-crossing point. The
curve $d(a,b,3/4)=0$ divides $R$ into three domains: above the
curve --- here $q$ has two real and two complex roots, below the
curve --- here $q$ has only complex roots and inside the
curvilinear triangle --- here $q$ has four real roots. \pmn With
decreasing of $c$ the curvilinear triangle is moving down and to
the left and also is enlarged. In Figures below are presented: a)
plot of the curve $d(a,b,1/16)=0$ in the rectangle $[3\leqslant
a\leqslant 6,0\leqslant b\leqslant 3]$ (the left figure); b) the
plot of the curve $d(a,b,0)=0$ in the rectangle $[0\leqslant
a\leqslant 6,0\leqslant b\leqslant 3]$:
\[\begin{picture}(330,130) \qbezier[70](0,5)(60,5)(120,5)
\qbezier[70](0,125)(60,125)(120,125)
\qbezier[70](0,5)(0,65)(0,125) \qbezier(120,5)(120,65)(120,125)
\put(40,5){\line(1,2){50}} \put(20,55){\line(5,2){100}}
\qbezier(20,55)(60,80)(90,105)
\qbezier[90](150,5)(240,5)(330,5)
\qbezier[90](150,95)(240,95)(330,95)
\qbezier[55](150,5)(150,50)(150,95)
\qbezier[55](330,5)(330,50)(330,95)
\qbezier(270,5)(270,45)(310,75) \qbezier(150,5)(230,5)(310,75)
\end{picture}\] On the right figure the curve vertically intersects the
axis $OX$ at the point $(4,0)$ and the cusp has coordinates
$\approx (5.33,2.37)$. \pmn In what follows we will study the
interior of the curvilinear triangle only. This triangle will be
called \emph{the main triangle} and will be denoted
$\Delta_\gamma$ (i.e. the main triangle in the plane $c=\gamma$).
\pmn The condition that values of $p$ at roots of $q$ are pairwise
different is of the form $s(a,b,c)\neq 0$, where
$$\begin{array}{l}
s=37500a^7b-15625a^6b^2-688000a^6b-90000a^6c-\\
-480000a^5b^2-450000a^5bc+3624960a^5b +1651200a^5c+\\
+600000a^4b^3+187500a^4b^2c+13363200a^4b^2+13824000a^4bc-\\
-5898240a^4b+1080000a^4c^2-8699904a^4c-125000a^3b^4
-9344000a^3b^3-\\
-8160000a^3b^2c-73662464a^3b^2+1800000a^3bc^2-163184640a^3bc
-28416000a^3c^2+\\+14155776a^3c
+1440000a^2b^4+1200000a^2b^3c+3932160a^2b^3-750000a^2b^2c^2+\\
+126259200a^2b^2c
+116391936a^2b^2-24576000a^2bc^2+723517440a^2bc-4320000a^2c^3+\\
+299630592a^2c^2
+19046400ab^4-46080000ab^3c+154140672ab^3+23040000ab^2c^2-\\
-438829056ab^2c -2400000abc^3-47185920abc^2
-1056964608abc+70656000ac^3-\\
-1264582656ac^2
-4096000b^5+7680000b^4c-66322432b^4-4800000b^3c^2+\\
+96337920b^3c
+1000000b^2c^3 -8601600b^2c^2+276824064b^2c-23552000bc^3+\\
+421527552bc^2
-203423744c^3-268435456b^3+1811939328c^2+5760000c^4.
\end{array}$$ The intersection of the main triangle $\Delta_\gamma$
and the surface $s=0$ is of the form
\[\begin{picture}(150,100) \put(10,20){\line(3,1){104}}
\put(140,90){\line(-1,-1){71}} \qbezier(10,20)(100,50)(140,90)
\qbezier(140,90)(100,50)(100,10) \qbezier(10,20)(40,30)(100,10)
\qbezier(69,19)(100,50)(113,55) \put(3,16){\scriptsize A}
\put(144,87){\scriptsize B} \put(104,5){\scriptsize C}
\put(65,11){\scriptsize D} \put(117,50){\scriptsize E}
\end{picture}\] Here $ABC$ is the main triangle, $D$ and $E$ are
cusps of the curve $s(a,b,\gamma)=0$ (both are on sides of the
main triangle), arcs of curve $s(a,b,\gamma)=0$ are outgoing from
cusp points $A$ and $B$ to the interior of the main triangle.
\pmn We will also need the condition that values of $p$ at roots of
the polynomial $q$ are nonzero. This condition is of the form
$z(a,b,c)\neq 0$, where
\begin{multline*}
z=5625a^4c-1250a^3b^2-21600a^3c+4800a^2b^2-120000a^2bc-60000a^2c^2+\\
+24000ab^3+60000ab^2c+414720abc+1036800ac^2-10000b^4-\\
-81920b^3-38400b^2c-384000bc^2+160000c^3-2985984c^2.\end{multline*}
For a fixed $\gamma$ the curves $s(a,b,\gamma)=0$ and
$z(a,b,\gamma)=0$ divide the main triangle $\Delta_\gamma$ into
domains. In contrast to the behavior of the curve
$s(a,b,\gamma)=0$ the behavior of the curve $z(a,b,\gamma)=0$
inside $\Delta_\gamma$ vary with the change of $\gamma$. We will
describe the partition of $\Delta_\gamma$ into domains by curves
$s(a,b,\gamma)=0$ and $z(a,b,\gamma)=0$ and bifurcations of this
partition. Also we will indicate for each domain the passport of
the corresponding snake. \pmn Below are enumerated passports of
all 16 snake of order 5.
$$\begin{array}{rrrrrrr}
1)\,1,3,2,5,4&&2)\,1,4,2,5,3&&3)\,1,4,3,5,2&&
4)\,1,5,2,4,3\\ 5)\,1,5,3,4,2&&6)\,2,3,1,5,4&&7)\,2,4,1,5,3&&8)\,2,4,3,5,1\\
9)\,2,5,1,4,3&&10)\,2,5,3,4,1&&11)\,3,4,1,5,2&&12)\,3,4,2,5,1\\
13)\,3,5,1,4,2&&14)\,3,5,2,4,1&&15)\,4,5,1,3,2&&16)\,4,5,2,3,1\end{array}$$
In what follows we will schematically demonstrate the partition of
the main triangle into domains. Curves $z(a,b,\gamma)=0$ will be
dotted.
\subsection{$1>c>512/625\approx 0.8192$} If $\gamma$ belongs to this
interval, then the curve $z(a,b,\gamma)=0$ doesn't intersect the
main triangle. A point in a domain defines the Morse polynomial.
The plot of this polynomial is a snake and the number of its
passport is indicated inside the domain.
\[\begin{picture}(140,80) \put(10,70){\line(1,0){120}}
\put(10,70){\line(1,-1){60}} \put(70,10){\line(1,1){60}}
\put(10,70){\line(3,-1){90}} \put(40,40){\line(3,1){90}}
\qbezier(40,40)(70,30)(100,40) \put(2,67){\scriptsize A}
\put(134,67){\scriptsize B} \put(70,2){\scriptsize C}
\put(40,48){\scriptsize 10} \put(68,55){\scriptsize 8}
\put(92,48){\scriptsize 12} \put(66,40){\scriptsize 14}
\put(66,25){\scriptsize 16} \end{picture}\] If $\gamma=512/625$,
then the curve $z(a,b,\gamma)=0$ passes through the point $A$ --- the
vertex of the main triangle.
\subsection{$512/625>c>432/625\approx 0.6912$}
\[\begin{picture}(140,80) \put(10,70){\line(1,0){120}}
\put(10,70){\line(1,-1){60}} \put(70,10){\line(1,1){60}}
\put(10,70){\line(3,-1){90}} \put(40,40){\line(3,1){90}}
\qbezier(40,40)(70,30)(100,40) \qbezier[25](35,45)(45,55)(60,70)
\put(2,67){\scriptsize A} \put(134,67){\scriptsize B}
\put(70,2){\scriptsize C} \put(45,48){\scriptsize 10}
\put(68,55){\scriptsize 8} \put(92,48){\scriptsize 12}
\put(66,40){\scriptsize 14} \put(66,25){\scriptsize 16}
\put(45,62){\scriptsize 3} \put(35,52){\scriptsize 5}
\end{picture}\] If $\gamma=432/625$, then the curve $z(a,b,\gamma)=0$
passes through the point $B$ --- the vertex of the main triangle.
\subsection{$432/625>c>52488/72125\approx 0.6718$}
\[\begin{picture}(260,140) \put(10,130){\line(1,0){240}}
\put(10,130){\line(1,-1){120}} \put(10,130){\line(2,-1){160}}
\put(90,50){\line(2,1){160}} \put(90,50){\line(1,0){80}}
\put(130,10){\line(1,1){120}}
\qbezier[35](190,130)(200,110)(210,90)
\qbezier[50](190,130)(190,95)(190,60)
\qbezier[60](210,90)(170,110)(130,130)
\qbezier[50](90,130)(70,110)(40,80)
\qbezier[30](90,130)(105,145)(130,130) \put(2,127){\scriptsize A}
\put(254,127){\scriptsize B} \put(130,2){\scriptsize C}
\put(86,133){\scriptsize K} \put(132,133){\scriptsize L}
\put(188,133){\scriptsize M} \put(214,84){\scriptsize N}
\put(184,105){\scriptsize P} \put(60,115){\scriptsize 3}
\put(130,105){\scriptsize 8} \put(175,115){\scriptsize 3}
\put(205,115){\scriptsize 1} \put(193,107){\scriptsize 2}
\put(45,100){\scriptsize 5} \put(85,70){\scriptsize 10}
\put(125,55){\scriptsize 14} \put(125,35){\scriptsize 16}
\put(160,70){\scriptsize 12} \put(195,85){\scriptsize 11}
\put(199,97){\scriptsize 7} \put(215,103){\scriptsize 6}
\end{picture}\] Here points $M$ and $N$ lie on the sides of the
main triangle and both are cusps of the curve $z(a,b,\gamma)=0$.
The point $P$ lies on the curve $s(a,b,\gamma)=0$ and is an
self-intersection point of the curve $z$. The arc $KL$ disappears
for $\gamma=52488/72125$, i.e. the curve $z(a,b,\gamma)=0$ is
tangent (from inside) to the side $AB$ of the main triangle. With
the decrease of $\gamma$ two domains with numbers 3 merge into
one.
\subsection{$52488/72125>c>\approx 0.57613$}
\[\begin{picture}(260,140) \put(10,130){\line(1,0){240}}
\put(10,130){\line(1,-1){120}} \put(10,130){\line(2,-1){160}}
\put(90,50){\line(2,1){160}} \put(90,50){\line(1,0){80}}
\put(130,10){\line(1,1){120}}
\qbezier[35](190,130)(200,110)(210,90)
\qbezier[50](190,130)(190,95)(190,60)
\qbezier[30](210,90)(190,100)(170,110)
\qbezier[30](70,110)(55,95)(40,80)
\qbezier[60](70,110)(120,110)(170,110)\put(2,127){\scriptsize A}
\put(254,127){\scriptsize B} \put(130,2){\scriptsize C}
\put(194,64){\scriptsize H} \put(174,44){\scriptsize G}
\put(130,115){\scriptsize 3} \put(130,90){\scriptsize 8}
\put(205,115){\scriptsize 1} \put(193,107){\scriptsize 2}
\put(45,100){\scriptsize 5} \put(85,70){\scriptsize 10}
\put(125,55){\scriptsize 14} \put(125,35){\scriptsize 16}
\put(160,70){\scriptsize 12} \put(195,85){\scriptsize 11}
\put(199,97){\scriptsize 7} \put(215,103){\scriptsize 6}
\end{picture}\] Points $G$ and $H$ became one for
$\gamma\approx 0.57613$. This value of $\gamma$ is a root
of a polynomial of degree 6, where the ratio of lowest coefficient to the
highest is $2^{52}/5^{15}$.
\subsection{$0.57613>c>1024/1875\approx 0.5461$}
\[\begin{picture}(260,140) \put(10,130){\line(1,0){240}}
\put(10,130){\line(1,-1){120}} \put(10,130){\line(2,-1){160}}
\put(90,50){\line(2,1){160}} \put(90,50){\line(1,0){80}}
\put(130,10){\line(1,1){120}} \qbezier[70](40,90)(110,90)(150,80)
\qbezier[30](150,80)(170,75)(190,70)
\qbezier[40](190,70)(170,100)(150,130)
\qbezier[70](150,130)(150,75)(150,20) \put(118,67){\scriptsize F}
\put(143,85){\scriptsize P} \put(50,97){\scriptsize 5}
\put(110,110){\scriptsize 3} \put(158,95){\scriptsize 2}
\put(180,110){\scriptsize 1} \put(90,70){\scriptsize 10}
\put(130,75){\scriptsize 8} \put(140,67){\scriptsize 12}
\put(165,60){\scriptsize 11} \put(170,80){\scriptsize 7}
\put(190,85){\scriptsize 6} \put(125,55){\scriptsize 14}
\put(125,35){\scriptsize 16} \put(153,43){\scriptsize 15}
\put(152,52){\tiny 13} \end{picture}\] When $c=1024/1875$, then
points $F$ and $P$ merge and domains 8 and 12 disappear.
\subsection{$0<c<1024/1875$} Here configuration of domains in the main
triangle does not change:
\[\begin{picture}(260,140) \put(10,130){\line(1,0){240}}
\put(10,130){\line(1,-1){120}} \put(130,10){\line(1,1){120}}
\put(90,50){\line(1,0){80}} \put(90,50){\line(1,1){40}}
\put(130,90){\line(1,-1){40}} \qbezier(130,90)(150,110)(250,130)
\qbezier(130,90)(110,110)(10,130)
\qbezier[80](60,70)(130,70)(190,70)
\qbezier[70](190,70)(150,110)(90,130)
\qbezier[50](90,130)(90,90)(110,70)
\qbezier[50](110,70)(130,50)(160,20) \put(70,120){\scriptsize 3}
\put(70,90){\scriptsize 5} \put(120,105){\scriptsize 2}
\put(150,115){\scriptsize 1} \put(190,90){\scriptsize 6}
\put(160,80){\scriptsize 7} \put(110,85){\scriptsize 4}
\put(86,58){\scriptsize 10} \put(105,56){\scriptsize 14}
\put(140,56){\scriptsize 13} \put(166,58){\scriptsize 11}
\put(146,38){\scriptsize 15} \put(126,30){\scriptsize 16}
\put(130,75){\scriptsize 9}
\end{picture}\]
\section{Supplement: the construction of Morse polynomials}
\pn Let $0=x_0<x_1<\ldots<x_k$ be critical points of a real Morse
polynomial $p$. Then $p'=x(x-x_1)\ldots(x-x_k)$ and
$$p=\int_0^x p'(t)\,dt.$$ The plot of $p'$ is of the form (for odd $k$):
\[\begin{picture}(170,50) \put(0,20){\vector(1,0){200}}
\put(20,5){\vector(0,1){40}} \qbezier(20,20)(40,0)(60,20)
\qbezier(60,20)(85,45)(110,20) \qbezier(110,20)(130,0)(150,20)
\qbezier(150,20)(160,30)(170,45) \qbezier(20,20)(10,30)(0,45)
\put(14,13){\scriptsize 0} \put(60,12){\scriptsize $x_1$}
\put(103,12){\scriptsize $x_2$} \put(150,12){\scriptsize $x_3$}
\end{picture}\] We see the sequence of domains, bounded by the plot of
$p'$ and axis $OX$. Areas of these domains are differences of
consecutive critical values. Thus, the diminishing of
$x_{i+1}-x_i$ implies the diminishing of $|p(x_{i+1}-p(x_i)|$.
\begin{ex} Let us construct a Morse polynomial, whose plot has the
passport $(3,1,4,2)$. It will take several steps:
\begin{itemize}
\item roots $(0,1,2,3)$ --- passport $(4,2,3,1)$;
\item roots $(0,1,3,4)$ --- passport $(2,1,4,3)$;
\item roots $(0,1,3,5)$ --- passport $(3,2,4,1)$;
\item roots $(0,1,3,4.4)$ --- passport $(3,1,4,2)$.
\end{itemize} Analogously we can construct a 7-degree Morse polynomial
with the passport $(4,1,5,3,6,2)$. Its critical points are
$0,1,3,5,7,8.4$.
\end{ex}
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{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaArXiv"
}
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Рэ́йчел Ка́мпос-Да́ффи (; 22 октября 1971, Темпе (Аризона), США) — американская телевизионная персона.
Биография
Рэйчел Кампос родилась 22 октября 1971 года в городе Темпе (Аризона) (США) в семье Мигеля Кампоса и Марии дель Пилар. У Кампос есть два брата, Джо и Патрик Кампос, и сестра — Лиа Кампос-Шандлбауэр.
Рэйчел — американская телевизионная персона, которая получила известность в 1994 году как участница реалити-шоу «The Real World: San Francisco» на MTV, прежде чем стать телеведущей, в первую очередь, как повторяющаяся приглашённая ведущая на ток-шоу «The View» на ABC.
Личная жизнь
С 4 апреля 1999 года Рэйчел замужем за политиком . У супругов девять детей: дочь Эвита Пилар Даффи (род. 01.10.1999), сын Ксавьер Джек Даффи (род. в ноябре 2001), дочь Люсия-Белен Даффи (род. в апреле 2004), сын Джон-Пол Даффи (род.2006), дочери Палома Пилар Даффи (род. 18.05.2008), МарияВиктория Маргарита Даффи (род. 01.04.2010) и Маргарита Пилар Даффи (род. 06.05.2014), сын Патрик Мигель Даффи (род. 29.05.2016) и дочь Валентина СтеллаМарис Даффи (род. 01.10.2019). Их дочь Валентина родилась с пороком сердца (у неё 2 отверстия в сердце и клапанах), который потребуют операции через 3-4 месяца после её рождения.
В 2008 году Кампос-Даффи призналась, что перенесла два выкидыша.
Примечания
Ссылки
Участники реалити-шоу США
Участники шоу «Реальный мир»
Выпускники Университета штата Аризона
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{"url":"https:\/\/demerzel.site\/2020\/09\/01\/pat-shua-ti-ji-lu-yi\/","text":"# PAT\u5237\u9898\u8bb0\u5f55\u4e00\n\n## \u524d\u8a00\n\n\u5f00\u4e2a\u65b0\u5751\uff0c\u4f5c\u4e3a\u4ece\u5c0f\u751f\u6d3b\u5728\u5317\u65b9\u7684hiter\uff0c\u4e00\u76f4\u5f88\u5411\u5f80\u5357\u65b9\u7684\u5927\u5b66\uff0c\u9ad8\u8003\u5f88\u5931\u8d25\u7684\u6ca1\u53bb\u4e0azju\uff0c\u90a3\u5c31\u7814\u7a76\u751f\u52aa\u529b\u5427\u3002\u770b\u4e86\u4e00\u4e0b\uff0czju\u8981\u6c42\u7684\u4e0a\u673a\u6d4b\u8bd5\u53ef\u4ee5\u7528PAT\u7532\u7ea7\u7684\u6210\u7ee9\u62b5\uff0c\u90a3\u5c31\u5f00\u4e2a\u5237\u9898\u8bb0\u5f55\u7684\u65b0\u5751\uff0c\u4e4b\u540e\u53ef\u80fd\u4e5f\u8bb0\u5f55\u4e00\u4e9b\u81ea\u5df1\u590f\u4ee4\u8425\u7684\u7ecf\u5386\u3002\n\u521d\u6b65\u5148\u7528 $Java$\uff0c\u4e4b\u540e\u8f6c $Python$ \u5427\u3002\u5148\u8bf4\u8fd9\u4e9b\u2026\n\n## 1001 A+B Format\n\n### \u9898\u76ee\n\nCalculate $a+b$ and output the sum in standard format \u2013 that is, the digits must be separated into groups of three by commas (unless there are less than four digits).\n\nInput Specification\n\nEach input file contains one test case. Each case contains a pair of integers $a$ and $b$ where $-10^6\\le a,b\\le 10^6$\u200b\u200b . The numbers are separated by a space.\n\nOutput Specification\n\nFor each test case, you should output the sum of $a$ and $b$ in one line. The sum must be written in the standard format.\n\nSample Input\n\n-1000000 9\n\nSample Output\n\n-999,991\n\n### \u9898\u89e3\n\n\u91c7\u7528\u8f6c\u5316\u4e3a\u5b57\u7b26\u4e32\u5faa\u73af\u8f93\u51fa\u7684\u65b9\u5f0f\uff0c\u9996\u5148\u5224\u65ad\u662f\u5426\u4e3a\u8d1f\u6570\u3002\u518d\u5bf9\u8f6c\u5316\u4e3a\u5b57\u7b26\u4e32\u7684\u7ed3\u679c\u7edd\u5bf9\u503c\u8fdb\u884c\u5224\u65ad\uff0c\u6700\u524d\u9762\u7684\u51e0\u4f4d\u662f\u5426\u53ef\u4ee5\u591f3\u4f4d\uff0c\u5355\u72ec\u8f93\u51fa\uff0c\u6700\u540e\u628a\u201d,\u201d\u548c\u5176\u540e\u7684\u4e09\u4f4d\u6570\u5b57\u5728\u4e00\u8d77\u8f93\u51fa\uff0c\u5faa\u73af\u5207\u7247\u5373\u53ef\u3002\n\npublic class PAT1001 {\npublic static void main(String[] args) {\nint a, b;\nScanner sc = new Scanner(System.in);\na = sc.nextInt();\nb = sc.nextInt();\nif (a + b < 0) {\nSystem.out.print(\"-\");\n}\nString s = Integer.toString(Math.abs(a + b));\nint i = s.length() % 3 == 0 ? 3 : s.length() % 3;\nSystem.out.print(s.substring(0, i));\nfor (; i < s.length(); i += 3) {\nSystem.out.print(\",\" + s.substring(i, i + 3));\n}\n}\n}\n\n## 1002 A+B for Polynomials\n\n### \u9898\u76ee\n\nThis time, you are supposed to find $A+B$ where $A$ and $B$ are two polynomials.\n\nInput Specification\n\nEach input file contains one test case. Each case occupies 2 lines, and each line contains the information of a polynomial:\n$$K\\ N_1\\ a_{N_k}\\ N_2\\ a_{N_2}\\cdots N_K\\ a_{N_K}$$\nwhere $K$ is the number of nonzero terms in the polynomial,\u200b\u200b $N_i$ and $a_{N_i} \\left(i=1,2,\\cdots,K\\right)$are the exponents and coefficients, respectively. It is given that $1\\le K\\le 10$\uff0c$0\\le N_K \\cdots <N_2<N_1\\le 1000$.\n\nOutput Specification\n\nFor each test case you should output the sum of $A$ and $B$ in one line, with the same format as the input. Notice that there must be NO extra space at the end of each line. Please be accurate to $1$ decimal place.\n\nSample Input\n\n2 1 2.4 0 3.2\n2 2 1.5 1 0.5\n\nSample Output\n\n3 2 1.5 1 2.9 0 3.2\n\n### \u9898\u89e3\n\n\u91c7\u7528HashMap\u5b58\u50a8\u6307\u6570\u4e0e\u7cfb\u6570\u7684\u5173\u7cfb\uff0c\u8fd9\u91cc\u7528\u5230\u4e86getOrDefault()\u65b9\u6cd5\uff0c\u907f\u514d\u7b2c\u4e00\u6b21\u6dfb\u52a0\u952e\u503c\u5bf9\u65f6\u53d6\u51fa\u7684value\u4e3anull\uff0c\u8fd8\u6709\u4e00\u4e2a\u5751\uff0c\u5f53\u4e24\u5f0f\u7684\u67d0\u9879\u5bf9\u6d88\u65f6\uff0c\u4e0d\u4ec5\u4e0d\u8981\u663e\u793a\u76f8\u5e94\u7684\u6307\u6570\u9879\uff0c\u8fde\u76f8\u5e94\u7684\u9879\u6570\u4e5f\u8981\u51cf\u5c11\uff0c\u5c31\u662f\u8fd9\u91cc\u5361\u4e86\u597d\u4e45\uff0c3~6\u6d4b\u8bd5\u7528\u4f8b\u8fc7\u4e0d\u53bb\u3002\nInput\n\n2 2 0.1 0 0.1\n3 2 -0.2 1 0.1 0 -0.1\n\nOutput\n\n2 2 -0.1 1 0.1\n\n3 2 -0.1 1 0.1\n\n\u7528double\u6570\u636e\u4f1a\u6709\u65e0\u6cd5\u7cbe\u51c6\u8868\u793a\u7684\u95ee\u9898\uff0c\u7528String.format()\u65b9\u6cd5\u4fdd\u7559\u4e00\u4f4d\u5c0f\u6570\uff0c\u8fd9\u4e2a\u4e5f\u662f\u6d4b\u8bd5\u7528\u4f8b2\u7684\u8003\u5bdf\u70b9\u3002\n\n\u4e0a\u6b63\u786e\u4ee3\u7801\n\npublic class PAT1002 {\npublic static void main(String[] args) {\nScanner sc = new Scanner(System.in);\nMap<Integer, Double> map = new HashMap<>();\nfor (int k = 0; k < 2; k++) {\nint num = sc.nextInt();\nfor (int i = 0; i < num; i++) {\nint exp = sc.nextInt();\ndouble coe = sc.nextDouble();\nmap.put(exp, map.getOrDefault(exp, 0.0) + coe);\n}\n}\nSet<Integer> keyset = map.keySet();\nObject[] array = keyset.toArray();\nfor (Object key : array) {\nif (map.get(key) == 0) {\nmap.remove(key);\n}\n}\nSystem.out.print(map.size());\nSet<Integer> keyset2 = map.keySet();\nObject[] array2 = keyset2.toArray();\nArrays.sort(array2, Collections.reverseOrder());\nfor (Object key : array2) {\nSystem.out.print(\" \" + key + \" \" + String.format(\"%.1f\", map.get(key)));\n}\n}\n}\n\n\n\n## 1003 Emergency\n\n### \u9898\u76ee\n\nAs an emergency rescue team leader of a city, you are given a special map of your country. The map shows several scattered cities connected by some roads. Amount of rescue teams in each city and the length of each road between any pair of cities are marked on the map. When there is an emergency call to you from some other city, your job is to lead your men to the place as quickly as possible, and at the mean time, call up as many hands on the way as possible.\n\nInput Specification\n\nEach input file contains one test case. For each test case, the first line contains 4 positive integers: $N \\left(\\le 500\\right)$ - the number of cities (and the cities are numbered from $0$ to $N\u22121$), $M$ - the number of roads, \u200b\u200b$C_1$ and $C_2$ - the cities that you are currently in and that you must save, respectively. The next line contains $N$ integers, where the i-th integer is the number of rescue teams in the $i$-th city. Then M lines follow, each describes a road with three integers $c_1,c_2$ and $L$, which are the pair of cities connected by a road and the length of that road, respectively. It is guaranteed that there exists at least one path from \u200b\u200b$C_1$ to $C_2$ .\n\nOutput Specification\n\nFor each test case, print in one line two numbers: the number of different shortest paths between $C_1$ and $C_2$ , and the maximum amount of rescue teams you can possibly gather. All the numbers in a line must be separated by exactly one space, and there is no extra space allowed at the end of a line.\n\nSample Input\n\n5 6 0 2\n1 2 1 5 3\n0 1 1\n0 2 2\n0 3 1\n1 2 1\n2 4 1\n3 4 1\n\nSample Output\n\n2 4\n\n### \u9898\u89e3\n\n\u7b80\u5355\u8bf4\u4e00\u4e0b\u9898\u76ee\u7684\u610f\u601d\uff0c\u662f\u6c42\u4e00\u4e2a\u4ece\u51fa\u53d1\u4f4d\u7f6e\u5230\u76ee\u6807\u4f4d\u7f6e\u7684\u6700\u77ed\u8def\u5f84\uff0c\u540c\u65f6\u641c\u96c6\u6700\u77ed\u8def\u5f84\u4e0a\u6240\u6709\u7684\u6d88\u9632\u5458\uff0c\u5982\u679c\u6709\u591a\u6761\u6700\u77ed\u8def\u5f84\u76f8\u7b49\uff0c\u641c\u96c6\u591a\u6761\u8def\u5f84\u4e0a\u7684\u6240\u6709\u6d88\u9632\u5458\u3002\n\u7b80\u5355\u6765\u8bf4\u5c31\u662fdijkstra\u7684\u4e00\u4e2a\u53d8\u5f62\uff0c\u5728\u66f4\u65b0\u6700\u77ed\u8def\u5f84\u65f6\u540c\u65f6\u66f4\u65b0\u5230\u8be5\u70b9\u7684\u6551\u63f4\u961f\u7684\u6700\u5927\u6570\u91cf\uff0cshortest[i]\u8868\u793a\u4ece\u6e90\u70b9\u5230i\u70b9\u7684\u6700\u77ed\u8def\u5f84\uff0c\u540c\u65f6\u7ef4\u62a4\u4e00\u4e2aman[i]\u6570\u7ec4,\u8868\u793a\u5230i\u70b9\u7684\u6d88\u9632\u5458\u7684\u6570\u91cf\u3002\u5728\u66f4\u65b0\u6700\u77ed\u8def\u5f84\u65f6\uff0c\u589e\u52a0\u4e00\u6b65\u76f8\u7b49\u5224\u65ad\uff0c\u4e3a\u7684\u662f\u589e\u52a0\u6d88\u9632\u5458\u7684\u6570\u91cf\u3002\n\n\u4e0a\u6b63\u786e\u4ee3\u7801\n\nimport java.util.*;\n\npublic class PAT1003 {\nstatic int MAX = 505;\nstatic int Max = 99999999;\nstatic int verNum;\nstatic int edgNum;\nstatic int sorPos;\nstatic int tarPos;\nstatic int[] shortest = new int[MAX];\nstatic int[] visited = new int[MAX];\nstatic int[] num = new int[MAX];\nstatic int[] man = new int[MAX];\n\npublic static void main(String[] args) {\nScanner sc = new Scanner(System.in);\nverNum = sc.nextInt();\nedgNum = sc.nextInt();\nsorPos = sc.nextInt();\ntarPos = sc.nextInt();\nint[] peoNum = new int[verNum];\nint[][] graph = new int[MAX][MAX];\nArrays.fill(shortest, Max);\nfor (int i = 0; i < MAX; i++) {\nfor (int j = 0; j < MAX; j++) {\ngraph[i][j] = Max;\n}\n}\nfor (int i = 0; i < verNum; i++) {\npeoNum[i] = sc.nextInt();\n}\n\nfor (int i = 0; i < edgNum; i++) {\nint x = sc.nextInt();\nint y = sc.nextInt();\nint z = sc.nextInt();\ngraph[x][y] = z;\ngraph[y][x] = z;\n}\ngraph[sorPos][sorPos] = 0;\ndijstra(graph, sorPos, tarPos, peoNum);\n}\n\npublic static void dijstra(int[][] matrix, int source, int target, int[] people) {\nshortest[source] = 0;\nnum[source] = 1;\nman[source] = people[source];\n\nfor (int i = 0; i < verNum; i++) {\nint k = search();\nif (k == -1) {\nbreak;\n}\nvisited[k] = 1;\nfor (int j = 0; j < verNum; j++) {\nif (visited[j] == 0 && matrix[k][j] != Max) {\nif (shortest[j] > matrix[k][j] + shortest[k]) {\nshortest[j] = matrix[k][j] + shortest[k];\nnum[j] = num[k];\nman[j] = people[j] + man[k];\n} else if (shortest[j] == matrix[k][j] + shortest[k]) {\nnum[j] += num[k];\nif (people[j] + man[k] > man[j]) {\nman[j] = people[j] + man[k];\n}\n}\n}\n}\n}\nSystem.out.println(num[target] + \" \" + man[target]);\n}\n\npublic static int search() {\nint k = -1;\nint mmin = Max;\nfor (int i = 0; i < verNum; i++) {\nif (visited[i] == 0 && shortest[i] < mmin) {\nk = i;\nmmin = shortest[i];\n}\n}\nreturn k;\n}\n}\n\n\n\n\u76ee\u5f55","date":"2022-06-30 09:35:40","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 1, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.18117336928844452, \"perplexity\": 2746.0790342117484}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": false}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2022-27\/segments\/1656103671290.43\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20220630092604-20220630122604-00010.warc.gz\"}"}
| null | null |
stateTestDir=../../GeneralStateTestsFiller
./templateGen.js diffPlaces selfBalance.yul 1000000000000000000 \
> $stateTestDir/stSelfBalance/diffPlacesFiller.yml
./templateGen.js invalidDiffPlaces invalid.yul 0x60A7 \
> $stateTestDir/stBadOpcode/invalidDiffPlacesFiller.yml
./templateGen.js gasPriceDiffPlaces gasPrice.yul 2000 \
> $stateTestDir/stEIP1559/gasPriceDiffPlacesFiller.yml
./templateGen.js baseFeeDiffPlaces baseFee.yul 10 \
> $stateTestDir/stEIP1559/baseFeeDiffPlacesFiller.yml
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 0C
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 0D
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 0E
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 0F
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 1E
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 1F
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 21
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 22
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./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 26
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 27
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 28
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 29
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 2A
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 2B
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 2C
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 2D
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 2E
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 2F
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 49
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 4A
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 4B
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 4C
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 4D
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 4E
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 4F
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 5C
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 5D
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 5E
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh 5F
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh A5
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./createBadOpcodeTest.sh AA
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./createBadOpcodeTest.sh AD
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh AE
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh AF
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh B0
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh B1
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./createBadOpcodeTest.sh BC
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./createBadOpcodeTest.sh C0
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./createBadOpcodeTest.sh D0
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./createBadOpcodeTest.sh DD
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./createBadOpcodeTest.sh DF
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh E0
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh E1
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh E2
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./createBadOpcodeTest.sh E7
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh E8
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh E9
./createBadOpcodeTest.sh EA
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./createBadOpcodeTest.sh ED
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./createBadOpcodeTest.sh EF
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|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
}
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Abberley, Will (2012) 'To make a new tongue': natural and manufactured language in the late fiction of William Morris. Journal of Victorian Culture, 17 (4). pp. 397-412. ISSN 1355-5502
Alfano, Chiara (2012) Sounding Shakespeare: acts of reading in Cavell and Derrida. Doctoral thesis (PhD), University of Sussex.
Barber, Rosalind (2012) Writing Marlowe as writing Shakespeare. Doctoral thesis (DPhil), University of Sussex.
Bontea, Adriana (2012) Des logiques et de leur bon usage. In: Camus, Marianne and Dupont, Valerie (eds.) Création au féminin: les passeuses. Création au féminin, 5 . Éditions universitaires de Dijon, Dijon. ISBN 9782364410237
Boxall, Peter (2012) Late: Fictional Time in the Twenty-First Century. Contemporary Literature, 53 (4). pp. 681-712. ISSN 0010-7484
Boxall, Peter (2012) Nothing of value: reading Beckett's negativity. In: Caselli, Daniela (ed.) Beckett and nothing: trying to understand Beckett. Manchester University Press, Manchester, pp. 28-47. ISBN 9780719087844
Butt, Gavin (2012) The common turn in performance. Contemporary Theatre Review, 22 (1). pp. 46-61. ISSN 1048-6801
Charnock, Ruth (2012) Joni Mitchell: music and feminism. United Academics: Journal of Social Sciences, 2 (12). pp. 90-107. ISSN 2212-5736
Chowdhury, Sajed (2012) 'Thair is mair constancie in o[u]r sex / Then euer ama[n]g men hes bein': the metaphysics of authorship in the Maitland Quarto Manuscript (ca. 1586). Textual Cultures, 7 (1). pp. 50-76. ISSN 1559-2936
Cooper, Samuel Martin (2012) 'A lot to answer for': the English legacy of the Situationist International. Doctoral thesis (DPhil), University of Sussex.
Corrieri, Augusto (2012) Giving up the world for an image. International Journal of Screendance, 2. pp. 78-80. ISSN 2154-6878
Crangle, Sara (2012) Dada's tender-hearted onIons. Modernist Cultures, 7 (2). pp. 231-253. ISSN 2041-1022
Daw, Gillian Jane (2012) The Victorian poetic imagination and astronomy: Tennyson, De Quincey, Hopkins and Hardy. Doctoral thesis (DPhil), University of Sussex.
DeCaires Narain, Denise (2012) Gender, the pastoral and the postcolonial Caribbean. In: Nair, Supriya M (ed.) Teaching Caribbean anglophone literature. Modern Language Association of America, New York. ISBN 9781603291064
DeCaires Narain, Denise (2012) Naming same-sex desire in Caribbean women's texts: towards a creolizing Hermeneutics. Contemporary Women's Writing, 6 (3). pp. 194-212. ISSN 1754-1476
Deakin, Wayne George (2012) Recognition and romantic hermeneutics: Hegel and the English romantic tradition. Doctoral thesis (DPhil), University of Sussex.
Di Bernardo, Francesco (2012) [Review] Louisa Hadley and Elizabeth Ho (eds.)(2010) Thatcher & after: Margaret Thatcher and her afterlife in contemporary culture. Textual Practice, 24 (3). pp. 566-569. ISSN 0950-236X
Diakoulakis, Christoforos (2012) Jacques Derrida and the necessity of chance. Doctoral thesis (PhD), University of Sussex.
Dimmock, Matthew (2012) Materialising Islam on the early modern stage. In: Schulting, Sabine, Muller, Sabine Lucia and Hertel, Ralf (eds.) Early modern encounters with the Islamic East: performing cultures. Transculturalisms, 1400-1700 (5). Ashgate, Farnham, pp. 115-132. ISBN 9781409438502
Dove, Mary (2012) Scripture and reform. In: Marsden, Richard and Matter, E Ann (eds.) The new Cambridge history of the Bible: from 600 to 1450. The new Cambridge history of the Bible, 2 . Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. ISBN 9780521860062
Eve, Martin (2012) Thomas Pynchon, David Foster Wallace and the problems of "metamodernism": post-millennial post-postmodernism? C21 Literature, 1 (1). pp. 7-25. ISSN 2045-5216
Eve, Martin (2012) Whose line is it anyway?: Enlightenment, revolution and Ipseic ethics in the works of Thomas Pynchon. Textual Practice, 26 (5). pp. 921-939. ISSN 0950-236X
Eve, Martin Paul (2012) Hostility or tolerance? Philosophy, polyphony and the novels of Thomas Pynchon. Doctoral thesis (PhD), University of Sussex.
Eve, Martin Paul (2012) 'Whose line is it anyway?: enlightenment, revolution, and ipseic ethics in the works of Thomas Pynchon'. Textual Practice, 26 (5). ISSN 0950-236X
Farhoumand, J C (2012) Barflies, tramps, heroes and whores: Charles Bukowski and the cinema. Masters thesis (MPhil), University of Sussex.
Farmer, Gareth (2012) Veronica Forrest-Thomson, poetic artifice and the struggle with forms. Doctoral thesis (DPhil), University of Sussex.
Field, Hannah (2012) 100 ways to make a Japanese house. Children's Literature Association Quarterly, 37 (2). pp. 153-163. ISSN 0885-0429
Field, Hannah (2012) All toys at first I find: theorising the material culture of childhood in 'A Christmas tree'. In: Lennartz, Norbert and Orestano, Francesca (eds.) Dickens's Signs, Readers' Designs: New Bearings in Dickens Criticism. Scritture d'Oltremanica . Aracne, Rome, pp. 345-361. ISBN 9788854847675
Field, Hannah (2012) A story, exemplified in a series of figures: paper doll versus moral tale in the nineteenth century. Girlhood Studies, 5 (1). pp. 37-56. ISSN 1938-8322
Green, Melanie and Florence, Florence A. E. (2012) Subject and topic: evidence from Kenyang. Transactions of the Philological Society, 110. pp. 1-16.
Hadfield, Andrew (2012) Edmund Spenser: a life. Oxford University Press, Oxford. ISBN 9780199591022
Haynes, Douglas (2012) "Gravity rushes through him": volk and fetish in Pynchon's Rilke. MFS: Modern Fiction Studies, 58 (2). pp. 308-333. ISSN 0026-7724
Healy, Margaret (2012) Why me? Why now? How? The Body in health and disease. In: Kalof, Linda and Bynum, William (eds.) A cultural history of the human body in the Renaissance. A cultural history of the human body (3). Berg Publishers, pp. 37-54. ISBN 9781847887900
Hester, Diarmuid (2012) Queer cryptograms, anarchist cyphers: decoding Dennis Cooper's The marbled swarm: a novel. Studies in the Literary Imagination, 45 (2). pp. 95-112. ISSN 0039-3819
Jerome, Collin (2012) Queer Melayu: queer sexualities and the politics of Malay identity and nationalism in contemporary Malaysian literature and culture. Doctoral thesis (DPhil), University of Sussex.
Jones, Steven, Murphy, M Lynne, Paradis, Carita and Willners, Caroline (2012) Antonyms in English: construals, constructions, and canonicity. Studies in English Language . Cambridge University Press. ISBN 9780521761796
Kane, Daniel (2012) 'Nor did I socialise with their people': Patti Smith, rock heroics, and the poetics of sociability. Popular Music, 31 (1). pp. 105-123. ISSN 0261-1430
Kennedy, Barbara Cecily (2012) Healing music and its literary representation in the early modern period. Doctoral thesis (PhD), University of Sussex.
Kenny, Amy (2012) Domestic relations in Shakespeare. Doctoral thesis (PhD), University of Sussex.
Ladkin, Sam (2012) Glancing paintings and poems: figuration and abstraction in Clark Coolidge's Polaroid and Willem de Kooning's Excavation. Textual Practice, 26 (3). pp. 421-448. ISSN 0950-236X
Lambert, Carolyn Shelagh (2012) Lingering 'on the borderland': the meanings of home in Elizabeth Gaskell's fiction. Doctoral thesis (PhD), University of Sussex.
Leaker, Anthony (2012) 'Let's regain our grip on things': metaphysics and the ordinary in DeLillo and Wittgenstein. Doctoral thesis (PhD), University of Sussex.
Masood, Hafiz Abid (2012) From Cyrus to Abbas: staging Persia in Early Modern England. Doctoral thesis (DPhil), University of Sussex.
Masterson, John (2012) Re-fathoming the dark of heartness: contrapuntal representations of the Rwandan genocide. In: Bisschoff, Lizelle and Van de Peer, Stefanie (eds.) Art and Trauma in Africa: Representations of Reconciliation in Music, Visual Arts, Literature and Film. I.B. Tauris, London and New York, pp. 192-210. ISBN 9781848856929
McHugh, Ian Paul (2012) Liminal subjectivities in contemporary film and literature. Doctoral thesis (DPhil), University of Sussex.
Morley, John and Taylor, Charlotte (2012) Us and them: how immigrants are constructed in British and Italian newspapers. In: Bayley, Paul and Williams, Geoffrey (eds.) European Identity: what the media say. Oxford University Press, Oxford. ISBN 9780199602308
Nicholls, Peter (2012) "You in the dinghy astern, there": learning from Ezra Pound. In: Yao, Steven G and Coyle, Michael (eds.) Ezra Pound and education. National Poetry Foundation, Orono, Maine. ISBN 9780943373775
O'Connell, Rachel (2012) "That cruel spectacle": the extraordinary body eroticized in Lucas Malet's The history of Sir Richard Calmady. In: McRuer, Robert and Mollow, Anna (eds.) Sex and disability. Duke University Press, Durham, N.C., pp. 108-122. ISBN 9780822351542
Packham, Catherine (2012) Domesticity, objects and idleness: Mary Wollstonecraft and political economy. Women's Writing, 19 (4). pp. 544-562. ISSN 0969-9082
Packham, Catherine (2012) Eighteenth-century vitalism: bodies, culture, politics. Palgrave, Basingstoke & New York. ISBN 9780230276185
Palmer, Neil (2012) Facts are marvels: new suns. [Show/Exhibition]
Pendrill, Michael Laurie (2012) A guilty satisfaction: detective fiction and the reader. Doctoral thesis (PhD), University of Sussex.
Pestell, Alex (2012) Geoffrey Hill: poetry, criticism and philosophy. Doctoral thesis (DPhil), University of Sussex.
Piazza, Roberta (2012) Conflict discourse and cognitive processing in Martin McDonagh's The Beauty Queen of Leenane. Studi Italiani di Linguistica Teorica e Applicata (SILTA), XLI (2). pp. 317-336. ISSN 0390-6809
Prescott, Charles (2012) Germanic and the ruki dialects. In: Whitehead, Benedicte Nielsen, Olander, Thomas, Olsen, Birgit Anette and rasmussen, Jens Elmegard (eds.) The sound of Indo-European: phonetics, phonemics, and morphophonemics. Copenhagen Studies in Indo-European (4). Museum Tusculanum Press, Copenhagen, pp. 425-433. ISBN 9788763538381
Price, Jason (2012) Artificial limitations: the representation problem and theatre for social change. In: Association for Theatre in Higher Education Conference, 2-5 August 2012, Washington DC.
Price, Jason (2012) The San Francisco Mime Troupe Digital Archive: an introduction. San Francisco Mime Troupe Digital Archive.
Price, Jason (2012) 'You'll never walk alone with giants': evaluating trends in contemporary large-scale outdoor performance making. In: Theatre and Performance Research Association (TaPRA), 5-7 September 2012, University of Kent, Canterbury.
Price, Jason (2012) The global and the popular: the making and unmaking of popular performance forms, 1750-present. In: Performances of the Popular (Pop Moves), October 13th 2012, University of Chichester, Chichester UK.
Pütz, Martin, Robinson, Justyna A and Reif, Monika, eds. (2012) Cognitive sociolinguistics: social and cultural variation in cognition and language use. Review of Cognitive Linguistics, 10 (2). ISSN 1877-9751
Pütz, Martin, Robinson, Justyna and Reif, Monika (2012) Variation in language and language use: sociolinguistic, socio-cultural and cognitive perspectives. DASK . Peter Lang, Frankfurt/M..
Pütz, Martin, Robinson, Justyna A and Reif, Monika (2012) The emergence of cognitive sociolinguistics: an introduction. Review of Cognitive Linguistics, 10 (2). pp. 241-263. ISSN 1877-9751
Quinn, Paul (2012) Anti-Catholicism, Islamophobia and modern Christian multi-media. In: Ansari, Humayun and Hafez, Farid (eds.) From the far right to the mainstream: Islamophobia in party politics and the media. Campus Verlag, Frankfurt am Main. ISBN 9783593396484
Rhodes, John David (2012) Belabored: the work of style. Framework, 53 (1). pp. 47-64. ISSN 0306-7661
Robinson, Justyna (2012) Current methods in historical semantics. Topics in English linguistics, 73 . De Gruyter Mouton, Berlin/Boston. ISBN 9783110252880
Robinson, Justyna (2012) A sociolinguistic perspective on semantic change. In: Allan, Kathryn and Robinson, Justyna A (eds.) Current Methods in Historical Semantics. Topics in English Linguistics (73). de Gruyter Mouton, Berlin/Boston, pp. 199-230. ISBN 9783110252903
Robinson, Justyna A (2012) A gay paper: why should sociolinguistics bother with semantics?: Can sociolinguistic methods shed light on semantic variation and change in reference to the adjective gay? English Today, 28 (4). pp. 38-54. ISSN 0266-0784
Rockhunter, Thee (2012) Sonic antiquarian. LedaTape ystery series . The LedaTape Organisation, Melbourne, Australia. ISBN 0987412221
Rowlinson, Zac (2012) [Review] Yvonne Klose (2012) "How had it ever happened here?": a constructivist reading of Thomas Pynchon's the crying of lot 49 and its role in the Pynchon canon. Orbit: writing around Pynchon, 1 (2). ISSN 2047-2870
Royle, Nicholas (2012) Miracle play. Oxford Literary Review, 34 (1). pp. 123-153. ISSN 0305-1498
Salgado, Minoli (2012) Patriot games. In: Astley, Neil and Selby, Anna (eds.) The world record: international voices from Southbank Centre's poetry parnassuss. Bloodaxe Books Ltd, London. ISBN 9781852249380
Salgado, Minoli (2012) Rebirth of a nation or 'The incomparable toothbrush': the origin story and narrative regeneration in Sri Lanka. South Asian Review, 33 (3). pp. 239-256. ISSN 0038-2841
Salgado, Minoli (2012) Stories of Sri Lanka. In: Lee, Maurice A (ed.) Bridges: a global anthology of short stories. Temenos Publishing, pp. 418-421. ISBN 9780984619955
Smith, Lindsay (2012) Photographic simulation and nineteenth-century expression. Criticism: A Quarterly for Literature and the Arts, 54 (1). pp. 167-174. ISSN 0011-1589
Stanger, Arabella (2012) Merce Cunningham's ensemble space and the Black Mountain principle of community. The Journal of Black Mountain College Studies, 3.
Stevens, Bethan (2012) The Virgil woodcuts out of scale: Blake's gigantic, masculine pastoral. In: Bruder, Helen P and Connolly, Tristanne J (eds.) Blake, Gender, Culture. The Body, Gender and Culture, 10 . Pickering and Chatto, London, pp. 145-164. ISBN 9781848933040
Stevens, Bethan Kathleen (2012) Lost works of art: a critical and creative study of reception and restitution. Doctoral thesis (PhD), University of Sussex.
Sutherland, Keston (2012) Email to Josh Stanley, Dec 12, 2011 at 7:14pm. Damn the Caesars. pp. 205-206. ISSN 1557-0894-6-27-05
Sutherland, Keston (2012) Fetish and refuge: a mock pastoral. Damn the Caesars. pp. 243-254. ISSN 1557-0894-6-27-05
Sutherland, Keston (2012) Revolution and Really Being Alive. In: Poetry and Revolution, 25-27th May, Birkbeck, University of London.
Sutherland, Keston (2012) Statement for the Helsinki Poetics Conference 2010. Damn the Caesars. pp. 217-222. ISSN 1557-0894-6-27-05
Sutherland, Keston (2012) The world and John Wieners. World Picture (7). pp. 1-10. ISSN 1938-1700
Taylor, Charlotte (2012) Negative politeness features and impoliteness functions: a corpus-assisted approach. In: Davies, Bethan L, Haugh, Michael and Merrison, Andrew John (eds.) Situated politeness. Bloomsbury Academic, London. ISBN 9781623561307
Taylor, Jenny Bourne and Kucich, John (2012) Multiple narrators and multiple plots. In: Kucich, John and Taylor, Jenny Bourne (eds.) The nineteenth-century novel 1820-1880. Oxford History of the Novel in English, 3 . Oxford University Press, Oxford, pp. 256-273. ISBN 9780199560615
Thurschwell, Pam (2012) Dead boys and adolescent girls: unjoining the bildungsroman in Carson McCullers' 'The member of the wedding' and Toni Morrison's 'Sula'. English Studies in Canada, 38 (3-4). pp. 105-128. ISSN 0317-0802
Thurschwell, Pam (2012) Freud's stepchild: adolescence in psychoanalytic history. In: Alexander, Sally and Taylor, Barbara (eds.) History and psyche: culture, psychoanalysis, and the past. Palgrave studies in cultural and intellectual history . Palgrave Macmillan, Basingstoke. ISBN 9780230113367
Tucker, David (2012) Samuel Beckett and Arnold Geulincx: tracing "a literary fantasia". Historizing modernism . Continuum. ISBN 9781441139351
Vance, Norman (2012) The Church in danger: Mrs Humphry Ward's 'The case of Richard Meynell'. International Journal for the Study of the Christian Church, 12 (3). ISSN 1474-225x
Vance, Norman (2012) Religion and the novel. In: Kucich, John and Taylor, Jenny Bourne (eds.) The Nineteenth-Century Novel 1820-1880. The Oxford History of: The Novel in English, 3 . Oxford University Press, Oxford, pp. 476-491. ISBN 9780199560615
Vance, Norman (2012) 'The reception of Plato' [Review] K Demetriou (2011) Studies on the reception of Plato and Greek political thought in Victorian Britain. Classical Review (New Series), 62 (2). pp. 409-411. ISSN 0009-840X
Vine, Angus and Verweij, Sebastiaan (2012) Digitizing non-linear texts in TEI P5 : the case of the early modern reversed manuscript. In: Nelson, Brent and Terras, Melissa (eds.) Digitizing medieval and early modern material culture. New technologies in medieval and Renaissance studies, 3 . ACMRS (Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies), Tempe, Arizona. ISBN 9780866984744
Walter, Katie L (2012) Books and bodies: ethics, exemplarity, and the "boistous" in medieval English writings. New Medieval Literatures, 14. pp. 95-125. ISSN 1465-3737
Watts, Cedric (2012) The American 'Paradise Lost': reflections on J. F. Cooper's 'The Deerslayer'. Anglistica Pisana, 9 (1-2). pp. 187-202. ISSN 1827-4951
Watts, Cedric (2012) Ban The Shrew? Around the Globe (51). pp. 22-23. ISSN 1366-2317
Watts, Cedric (2012) Conradian Eldritch: Bram Stoker's Dracula and Joseph Conrad's "The heart of darkness". Conradian, 37 (2). pp. 1-18. ISSN 0951-2314
Watts, Cedric (2012) He was revenged! Around the Globe (52). pp. 44-45. ISSN 1366-2317
Watts, Cedric (2012) 'Heart of Darkness': the political, the aesthetic, and the judgement of judgement. Anglistica Pisana, 9 (1-2). pp. 241-256. ISSN 1827-4951
Watts, Cedric (2012) Ironic detection: Galsworthy's The Forsyte saga and Greene's The end of the affair. A Sort of Newsletter, 51. pp. 8-9.
Watts, Cedric (2012) [Review] Simon Gatrell (2011) Thomas Hardy writing dress. Anglistica Pisana. pp. 274-275. ISSN 1827-4951
Watts, Cedric (2012) Three men in a boat: Jerome's debt to Dickens's Dictionary of the Thames. Notes and Queries, 59 (3). pp. 405-407. ISSN 0029-3970
Watts, Cedric (2012) You Couldn't Make It Up [on Shakespeare's Sonnets]. Around the Globe (50). pp. 34-35. ISSN 1366-2317
Wells, Selma Ruth (2012) Rudyard Kipling: the making of a reputation. Doctoral thesis (PhD), University of Sussex.
Wheeler, Max W (2012) La morfologia verbal del "Llibre dels feits" en el context de l'evolució de la llengua [Verb morphology in the "Llibre dels feits" in the context of the evolution of Catalan]. In: Hauf i Valls, Albert G (ed.) El "Llibre dels feits". Aproximació crítica. Acadèmia Valenciana de la Llengua, València, pp. 155-176. ISBN 9788448257767
Wheeler, Max W (2012) Vies d'analogia i d'explicació en l'evolució del pretèrit feble de la conjugació-e romànica. Estudis Romànics, 34. pp. 7-36. ISSN 0211-8572
Wheeler, Max Woodfield (2012) La morfologia verbal al Curial e Güelfa [Verb morphology in Curial e Güelfa]. In: Ferrando, Antoni (ed.) Estudis lingüístics i culturals sobre 'Curial e Güelfa', novel•la cavalleresca anònima del segle XV en llengua catalana. IVITRA Research in Linguistics and Literature, 2 (3). John Benjamins, Amsterdam, pp. 875-908. ISBN 9789027240095
Wolf, Hope (2012) Mediating war: hot diaries, liquid letters and vivid remembrances. Life Writing, 9 (3). pp. 327-336. ISSN 1448-4528
Wright, Tom F (2012) Listening to Emerson's "England" at Clinton Hall, 22 January 1850. Journal of American Studies, 46 (3). pp. 641-662. ISSN 0021-8758
Youssef, Heba (2012) Colonising nationalism: Zionist political discourse 1845-1948. Doctoral thesis (PhD), University of Sussex.
|
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| 1,310
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Careers at AL DÍA
Cartagena and its must-see places
Cartagena offers luxury, romance and excellence for world travelers. Photo: Manuel Fernando Herrera Figueroa.
Lea en Español
In addition to being the star of the last World Travel Awards, 'La Heroica' has several locations recognized with important awards.
by Manuel Herrera
Despite tourism being one of the hardest hit industries in the world by the pandemic, Cartagena, Colombia has managed to preserve its special atmosphere and unique charm that make it a favorite destinations of travelers around the planet.
An award-winning city
Amid a controlled economic reactivation process, last October, the city was chosen as the "Leading Honeymoon Destination" in South America for the third consecutive year, above beautiful places such as Buenos Aires and San Carlos de Bariloche in Argentina, Fernando de Noronha, Paraty and Rio de Janeiro in Brazil, and the Galapagos Islands in Ecuador.
The important recognition came from the World Travel Awards, the most important tourism awards in the world since 1993, which also awarded Cartagena the following recognitions:
South America's leading cruise port 2021, above the ports of Pier Mauá in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, Buenos Aires, Argentina, Montevideo, Uruguay, and Valparaíso, Chile.
The recognition for the "Leading Hotel in South America 2021" was awarded to the Hotel Sofitel Legend Santa Clara, a one-of-a-kind spot in the Historic Center of the city.
Cartagena is an ideal destination for romance and couples. This was clear to the team behind the Condé Nast Traveler Awards 2021, which awarded the Hotel Casona del Colegio — a restored republican house located in the Historic Center — as "Best for Romance" in Central and South America.
Una publicación compartida de Casona del Colegio (@casonadelcolegio)
It is worth noting that these awards are given by vote of travelers, who are seduced year after year by the dreamy charm of the historic and diverse city.
Another place recently recognized internationally is the Alquímico bar. In 2020, it was highlighted with the Ketel One Sustainable Bar Award and entered the list of the 50 Best Bars in the World (position 47) thanks to the promotion of local culture and, as is pointed out in the publication, to "an authentic care for the environment and society."
2021 also brought the bar, located in a spectacular three-story mansion with different environments, a new recognition thanks to the passion, joy and professionalism of the employees. The bar was number 41 of the "Top 500 Bars," a publication that is based on the opinions and reviews of users around the world and highlights being "created by the people, for the people."
Una publicación compartida de ALQUÍMICO (@alquimicocartagena)
They know wine
2020 brought not only difficulties and challenges for the city's restaurant industry, but also recognition for the "Best Tablecloth Restaurant in the country" — according to the local La Barra awards.
platos_en_el_restaurante_cande_en_cartagena_de_indias_foto_marieldeviaje_.jpeg
The Candé restaurant, serving 100% Cartagena cuisine, was awarded by the North American publication WineSpectator, which has existed for more than 40 years and has millions of readers. The kitchen, which promotes local products and recipes, received the "A Cup of Excellence" award, a special recognition for its collection of wines.
Hotels, restaurants and bars are desired and highly valued by travelers around the world, highlighting the qualities of a city that, like Cartagena, wants to continue providing unique and unforgettable experiences to all who visit.
To get AL DÍA Print Edition at the comfort of your home, please click here
Please tell us what you think about this story
The XVI Cartagena Music Festival begins
U.S. passports are seeing a cost increase
PHL airport braces for holiday travelers
Five reasons to spend the holidays in Cartagena
Chamber music in the Caribbean Sea
The Cartagena Music Festival returns
France and other countries where the U.S. does not recommend travel
Discover Puerto Rico's "Live Out" campaign embraces LGBTQ+ travelers as violence continues on the island
Why is it a good idea to start the year in Cartagena?
'Champeta, el ritmo de la tierra,' the new Colombian series on Disney+
This is how the people of Cartagena celebrated independence
The United States opens its borders to European travelers
|
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| 2,614
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Q: I have more than one copy of the same app installed. How do I remove one specifically? Ubuntu 20.04. Today I was not able to get on Slack due to it's version reaching it's end of life.
I could not find a way to unistall it via command line due to the slack package not being found, nor via the Ubuntu Software app as it was simply not there.
I went on and ran sudo snap install slack, which installed the latest stable version of it and to which I could log back in.
But now I have two different Slack apps installed. I suppose I must of have installed the first one in a different way, as the new version did not replace the old one as I can run both simultaneously (one of course is the non working version). Now I don't know which is which nor how to unistall the one that reached it's end of life.
I suppose this can happen again with any app, so any help would be appreciated.
A: This should clear it up. Right now there are three slack snap packages:
$ snap search slack | egrep "^slack"
slack 4.28.171 slack** - Team communication for the 21st century.
slack-term 0.5.0 snapcrafters - Slack client for your terminal
slack-git-compare 0.1.1 maxime-visonneau - Compare git references within Slack
And one apt package:
$ apt list slack
Listing... Done
slack/focal,focal,now 1:0.15.2-9 all
This looks for the other "slack-" snap packages, removes them, then removes the slack package that may or may not be installed with apt:
snap find slack | egrep "^slack-" | awk '{print $1}' |
xargs sudo snap remove ;
dpkg -l | grep slack 1&>/dev/null && sudo apt purge slack -qqy 2&> /dev/null ||
echo -e "\n\n\nNot/no longer installed with apt\n\n";
a=$(egrep "^slack " <(snap list slack)) ;
if echo "$a" &>/dev/null; then echo "$a" |
awk '{print "\n\nSlack Installed via snap: "$1,$2"\n\n"}';
else echo "Looks like it is not installed via snap\n\n"; fi ; echo done
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
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| 5,371
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Nowe Ogrody (German: Neugrätz) is a settlement in the administrative district of Wschowa, within Wschowa County, Lubusz Voivodeship, in western Poland.
References
Nowe Ogrody
|
{
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| 31
|
'use strict';
const execa = require('execa');
const got = require('got');
const parseXml = require('xml2js').parseString;
const pify = require('pify');
module.exports = function () {
if (process.platform !== 'darwin') {
return Promise.reject(new Error('Only OS X systems are supported'));
}
let arr;
return execa('system_profiler', ['SPHardwareDataType']).then(res => {
arr = res.stdout.trim().split('\n');
arr = arr.splice(4, arr.length - 1);
const obj = {};
const keys = {
'Model Name': 'name',
'Model Identifier': 'identifier',
'Processor Name': 'core',
'Processor Speed': 'speed',
'Number of Processors': 'cpus',
'Total Number of Cores': 'cores',
'L2 Cache (per Core)': 'l2',
'L3 Cache': 'l3',
'Memory': 'memory',
'Boot ROM Version': 'rom',
'SMC Version (system)': 'smc',
'Serial Number (system)': 'sn',
'Hardware UUID': 'uuid'
};
Object.keys(arr).forEach(x => {
const s = arr[x].split(':');
obj[keys[s[0].trim()] || s[0].trim()] = s[1].trim();
});
return got(`http://support-sp.apple.com/sp/product?cc=${obj.sn.substring(obj.sn.length - 4, obj.sn.length)}`)
.then(res => pify(parseXml, Promise)(res.body))
.then(data => {
if (data.root.configCode) {
obj.name = data.root.configCode[0];
}
return obj;
});
});
};
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
}
| 965
|
{"url":"https:\/\/cs.stackexchange.com\/tags\/hashing\/hot","text":"# Tag Info\n\n44\n\nThe Wikipedia article on hash functions is very good, but I will here give my take. What is a hash? \"Hash\" is really a broad term with different formal meanings in different contexts. There is not a single perfect answer to your question. I will explain the general underlying concept and mention some of the most common usages of the term. A \"hash\" is ...\n\n10\n\nA hash function is a function that takes an input and produces a value of fixed size. For example you might have a hash function stringHash that accepts a string of any length and produces a 32-bit integer. Typically it is correct to say that the output of a hash function is a hash (aslo known as a hash value or a hash sum). However, sometimes people refer ...\n\n6\n\nYes, this is possible. Here are two examples of such a function. One function is $f(x)=x$. This has no collisions, and the function is easy to invert. Here is another function: define $f(x) = x$ if $x$ is 256 bits long, otherwise $f(x) = \\operatorname{SHA256}(x)$. Then it is very hard to find collisions for $f$ (since SHA256 is collision-resistant). ...\n\n6\n\nIt is a classical result that the element distinctness problem requires $\\Omega(n\\log n)$ comparisons in the comparison model (the one used to analyze sorting algorithms); in fact, it also requires $\\Omega(n\\log n)$ time in stronger models such as algebraic decision trees, in which we are allowed to compute the sign of arbitrary bounded degree polynomials (...\n\n5\n\nAn easy way to visualize this is to imagine a hash table of size $n$ (implemented with chaining) that contains all of the elements of $U$ (even though this is unrealistic in practice because $U$ typically has massive size). Since $|U| >> n$, all of the elements of $U$ do not fit into the hash table; therefore, there will be collisions. Consider, for ...\n\n5\n\nThe load factor denotes the average expected length of a chain, therefore it is interesting for an average case analysis, not the worst case analysis. That's why on average you expect needing constant time for search operations. In the worst case however, all your elements hash to the same location and are part of one long chain of size n. Then, it depends ...\n\n5\n\nThe way I can think of to do this is by some sort of normalization: that is, you need to find a function $f$ such that, if $\\equiv$ is your custom equality and $==$ is the normal C++ (or whatever language you use) equality, for all $x,y$, we have $x \\equiv y$ if and only if $f(x)==f(y)$. We call $f(x)$ the normal form of $x$. Then, the trick is, instead of ...\n\n4\n\nUniformity is about potential values, while randomness is about actual values. For example, suppose you make a very simple hash function that takes the first byte of a string, resulting in 256 buckets. It is uniform, because the number of possible strings starting with a particular byte doesn't depend on. But it is not random for most data sets: at least 12....\n\n4\n\nThe two definitions are not equivalent. The second definition does not imply the first. You can take $\\mathcal{H}$ to be the collection of all functions $h$ such that $h(1) = 1$.\n\n4\n\nIf for all $|r - s| < 1$ it is the case that $K(r) = K(s)$ then $K$ is constant (exercise). What you are asking is impossible. One thing which is possible is to compare keys with three rather than two possible outcomes: If $K(r)$ is close to $K(s)$ then $|r - s| < 1$. If $K(r)$ is far from $K(s)$ then $|r - s| \\geq 1$. Otherwise, we don't know. Of ...\n\n4\n\nIt's not equivalent, and I suspect there will be a loss of statistical randomization\/mixing. The core step that offers mixing of the bits is multiplication by FNV_PRIME modulo $2^{32}$. The original version (operating on bytes) does this once for each byte of the input. The alternative version (operating on integers) does this once for each integer, i.e., ...\n\n4\n\nLocality-sensitive hashing is one reasonable approach for this. I suggest reading standard resources on locality-sensitive hashing (LSH). In your case, a locality-sensitive hash is a hash function that maps $h:\\mathbb{R}^n \\to S$ where if $x,y \\in \\mathbb{R}^n$ are close enough, then we'll have $h(x)=h(y)$ with high probability. To get started, tead https:...\n\n4\n\nAssume there is no such bucket. Then each bucket has at most $|U|\/n - 1$ items. There are $n$ buckets, so the total number of items is at most $n*(|U|\/n - 1) = |U| - n$. This is less than $|U|$, which is the number of items we distributed to the buckets in the first place. This is a contradiction, so we proved that the statement \"each bucket has at most $|U|\/... 4 Let$p_i$be the probability that position$i$is empty. A simple coupling (detailed below) shows that$p_i = p_j$for all$i,j$, and so$Mp_0 = p_0 + \\cdots + p_{M-1}$. Now let$X_i$be the indicator for the event \"$i$is empty\". Then $$p_0 + \\cdots + p_{M-1} = \\mathbb{E}[X_0] + \\cdots + \\mathbb{E}[X_{M-1}] = \\mathbb{E}[X_0 + \\cdots + X_{M-1}],$$ using ... 3 No. The statement you're reading is correct. Try working through an example (in 2 dimensions, i.e.,$d=2$); pick specific values of$v$and$r$, draw them on the picture, and see what happens. The set of points$v$such that$v \\cdot r = 0$is a line; the set of points$v$such that$v \\cdot r \\ge 0$is a half-plane (e.g., the half-plane above that line). 3 I think you've missed the point of hash tables. Hash tables are used to give array-like access to a dataset that's too big and sparse to store in an array. So, for example, it sounds like you're trying to store a mapping of UIDs to usernames or something like that. The naive way of doing that would be to just have an array with one entry for each possible ... 3 A hash function cannot avoid collisions when the size$M$of the hash table is smaller than the size of the universal set$U$that you are hashing. This is a consequence of the compression step. In your case,$U$is the set of UIDs. Since$|U|=1000000$and$M= 524309$, then$M < |U|$and, therefore, collisions will inevitably occur (see Pigeonhole ... 3 A hash table usually uses two different things: One, a hash function that maps an item to a hash code (with the requirement that equal items are mapped to equal hash codes), and two, a function that maps hash codes to locations in the hash table where the item would be stored. Hashing every UID to a different 32 bit hash code is trivial - just hash every ... 3 The mean chain length is the sum of the chain lengths divided by the number of chains. The sum of the chain lengths is, by definition$n$and the number of chains is$m$. This is by far the easiest way to calculate it, and it's true even if the SUHA doesn't hold. But since you asked, let's look at the distribution of the chain lengths. Suppose you're ... 3 There is a deterministic algorithm for constructing a perfect hash, if you don't care about efficiency. For instance, you can enumerate all programs (in order of increasing size) and test each one to see which is the first that produces a valid perfect hash. This is a valid deterministic algorithm that is guaranteed to always find a valid perfect hash (and ... 3 This is explained in Wikipedia. Given$n,m$, the false positive probability is $$\\left(1 - \\left(1 - \\frac{1}{m}\\right)^{kn}\\right)^k.$$ This is the quantity we want to minimize. While the exact expression is hard to minimize exactly, we can use the approximation $$\\left(1 - \\left(1 - \\frac{1}{m}\\right)^{kn}\\right)^k \\approx (1-e^{-kn\/m})^k,$$ which is ... 3 You will first need to define what you mean by a hashing algorithm. For example, my favorite hashing algorithm is simple: check whether the input is \"string\", and if so, output \"b45cffe084dd3d20d928bee85e7b0f21\", otherwise output \"error\". In the simplest case, you have one algorithm$A$, and string$w$and you are wondering, is there an input$x$(and maybe ... 3 No it is not possible to determine that is produced by a hashing algo, or which one that produced it -- at least not from a single sample. Good hashing algo will produce a uniform set of values across the entire range of possible values -- where modern algo produces values from 128 to 512 bit in width, but if we take it back to a simpler example that may be ... 3 In addition to everything that others have said: any cipher is an invertible \"hash\" function. And there are standard ways to construct them; one common way of turning a one-way function into an invertible function is to use a Feistel network. They're quite useful in practice. See, for example, this question from a few years ago. 3 I think that the notes have been reported incorrectly. Indeed CruiskeenLawn, you are right. I've found some very old notes here which report the correct result. Indeed, in your copy, they simply forgot to add$\\left[\\begin{matrix} t\\\\ t\\end{matrix}\\right]$term. The Lemma you are looking for is on Page 2. 3 There are many measures of similarity between sequences (or arrays or even strings), which one to use depends on the specific goals for the similarity. It may be the case that some trial and error is required to find the 'best' one. Therefore, I'll give a brief overview of some well-known similarity measures: First, I consider distances most commonly ... 3 This is simply a way to generate 32-bit hash for the string. Assuming that MD5 is a good cryptographic hash function, it doesn't matter which bits you take from the hash and in which order you arrange them (as long as they are different bits). The behavior of the bits should be equally unpredictable. There's no explanation, why exactly 32 bits are required,... 3 Let$H$be a family of strongly universal hash functions from$U$to$[m]$. Construct a new family of hash functions from$U \\cup \\{x\\} \\to [m]$by extending all functions$h \\in H$with$h(x) = 1$. The family is weakly universal since$h(u)$is distributed uniformly for every$u \\in U\\$, but it is clearly not strongly universal.\n\n3\n\nif I take the result of a 32bit hash function(the param is random string) and apply module N on the result - will the values be evenly distributed? It depends on the hash function. For a good hash function the output should be uniformly distributed. so if I have a histogram of values [0,N-1] will the histogram be evenly distributed ? For any reasonable ...\n\n3\n\nIf you don\u2019t know the equality function then you let hash(x) = 0. Seriously. All your algorithms will work, but slowly because of collisions. All the other suggestions will make your hashing slow instead so you lose nothing. Actually, if you have multiple dictionaries containing these keys, operations are quadratic in the size of each dictionary, instead of ...\n\nOnly top voted, non community-wiki answers of a minimum length are eligible","date":"2020-02-22 01:30:34","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 0, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.8340354561805725, \"perplexity\": 360.8351639576725}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2020-10\/segments\/1581875145621.28\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20200221233354-20200222023354-00555.warc.gz\"}"}
| null | null |
The paper examines how representations in Russian literature of an autonomous and integral subject capable of expressing his or her freedom through the exercise of the will, gradually became subverted by a medicalised understanding of subjectivity. The latter insisted that human beings were not the sovereign authors of their own actions but in the grip of dark and irrational urges and desires of which they were barely aware and over which they had very limited control. This disillusionment with the rational and purposeful capacities of the individual reflected a wider retreat from the pursuit of democratic rights and civic responsibilities in the wake of the 1905 Revolution.
|
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The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you for your personal use only. You may not make this e-book publicly available in any way. Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author's copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Prologue: More than a Muckraker
Chapter 1: The Johnstown Flood: "Almost impossible to describe"
Chapter 2: The Pious and the Powerful
Chapter 3: Haymarket Square to Lizzie Borden
Chapter 4: Crusading against the Bosses
Chapter 5: The Best Job at the World
Chapter 6: Hearst, Yellow Journalism, Chicago
Chapter 7: Exposing the World's Greatest Trust
Chapter 8: "Soldier for the Common Good"
Chapter 9: The Shame of the World's Richest Church
Chapter 10: Evil Prisons, Race Riots, Justice Denied
Chapter 11: Out from Behind the Pen
Chapter 12: Grappling with the Octopus
Chapter 13: The Dove Becomes a Hawk
Chapter 14: The Amateur Diplomat
Chapter 15: At War with His Party—and Germany
Chapter 16: Propagandist in Russia
Epilogue: New Causes in the Final Years
Notes
Primary Source Bibliography
Index
Copyright
To Charles Pfeiffer, a good man
PROLOGUE
MORE THAN A MUCKRAKER
IN THE VOLUMINOUS CLIPPINGS, LETTERS, AND DIARIES OF Charles Edward Russell (1860–1941) in the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C. is a reference to Howard University, a small coeducational college founded in 1867 to educate newly emancipated slaves. The university had once given a testimonial dinner for Russell late in his life, honoring him for the many causes he championed and crusades he mounted in a fifty-year career in journalism, politics, diplomacy, and letters. While Russell was most famous during his life for his work as a "muckraking" or exposé journalist in the first two decades of the twentieth century, he was also well known in the African American community for his support of equal rights for blacks. In fact, in 1909 he was one of the three founding members of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. When he died in 1940, a black community newspaper in Washington said: "Mr. Russell was one of the best loved figures in this section and proved himself a genuine friend of the Negro race."
When I called Howard University to find files related to Russell, I was transferred to the Moorland–Springarn Collections, where historical materials on African American literature and history are housed. A librarian told me that there were indeed materials on Russell. Not knowing that I was many years into my research, she began to tell me who Russell was. "Let's see," she said. "He was a poet and publicist. And, from what I see here, he was a great friend of the black people. He was a white man, you know." That I knew, but what surprised me was that from the university's point of view, Russell was a poet, publicist, and friend of blacks. Here was a man who edited and published two of the greatest newspapers in the world, who was one of the most prolific, well known, and effective of the investigative reporters during the early part of the twentieth century, who ran four times for national and state office from New York and was almost nominated as the Socialist Party's presidential candidate in 1916, who wrote hundreds of magazines articles and thirty-one books, and who won the Pulitzer Prize for biography in 1927. And yet, to Howard University, he was remembered for his gentler side—for his four books of poetry, his love of Shakespeare, and his tireless efforts to associate himself with and promote good causes. When Russell died in 1941, befuddled obituary headline writers did not know what to call him; he was alternately labeled as a writer, reformer, socialist, poet, journalist, muckraker, and newspaper editor.
Charles Edward Russell was a lifelong journalist bent on raising the public consciousness; a muckraking provocateur exposing the excesses of industrialism; a crusading progressive reformer seeking to make things better; a brooding poet; a biographer with a penchant for finding righteous lives to unfurl; a fighter for civil rights; a left-wing orator and politician who believed that cooperation needed to replace competition in America; and a diplomat and patriot who wanted to help America fight the forces of authoritarianism in the world. Russell was all of those things in a remarkably diverse, productive career that spanned sixty years. Unfortunately, his has tended to fall into the shadows of history, partly because of the difficulty of pinning down and defining the man who was Charles Edward Russell.
Born in the Midwest in 1860, Russell moved to New York City as a young man and became one of America's most famous newspaper reporters. Next he edited the two largest newspapers in America under Joseph Pulitzer and William Randolph Hearst during the "yellow journalism" phase of American newspapers. After the turn of the twentieth century, he joined with a group of other journalists who became famous as the muckrakers, attacking political corruption and industrial excess and urging reform. Unlike his colleagues, however, Russell turned for solutions, like millions of other Americans, to socialism. He ran four times for political office as a Socialist, twice nearly receiving the party's presidential nomination. Despite his anti-capitalist sentiments, Russell became a fierce patriot who argued for American entry into World War I. His pro-war stance prompted the Socialists to throw him out of the party, but it led President Woodrow Wilson to enlist him as a diplomat to fight the threat of German authoritarianism. When the war ended, Russell turned to various new causes and to writing biographies, for which he won a Pulitzer Prize in 1927.
To trace Russell's life is to brush up against all of the great reform causes of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries—Populism, Progressivism, racial integration, and Socialism. In the process it becomes clear that many of the issues that engaged Russell are prevalent today. As this book was being finished, a scandal emerged concerning a Texas energy giant, the Enron Corporation. Reports of inflated stock prices, corporate profiteering, and political-influence peddling made national headlines, prompting criminal and congressional investigations. Beginning in 1904 and for twenty years thereafter, Russell routinely exposed these same problems, arguing that American companies were regularly inflating their profits in order to sell stock at higher prices and arguing that both political parties could be "bought" by the big corporations. Reform and regulation, he argued, would never cure the problem, because wily company heads, spurred by the natural desire for maximum profit, would always find a way around government regulators. Moreover, he argued, finding loopholes in regulations is the natural thing to do in a competitive system that forces even good people to behave in a way that enhances the bottom line at the expense of other priorities—and the law. Until the day he died, Russell felt that capitalism was at the root of many of America's ills, and his major journalistic efforts—exposing the slum landlord Trinity Church, the tyranny of America's meatpacking monopoly, the cruelty of a prison labor-capitalism cabal, and the octopus-like powers of various industrial combines—were directed to show how unregulated capitalism would breed evil. If Russell were alive today he would be writing many of his same stories, especially the ones that pointed to a growing gap between the wealthy and the poor, the issue that most turned him to Socialism as a cure.
As he crusaded against a variety of evils and muckraked America's problems, Charles Edward Russell became one of the most well-known writers and journalists in America. It was impossible not to encounter Russell in a headline or byline in the first twenty years of the twentieth century. But Russell's work and impact have been largely forgotten today. While all of the major muckrakers have had biographies—more than one for Lincoln Steffens, Ida Tarbell, Upton Sinclair, Ray Stannard Baker, and David Graham Phillips—little has been written about Russell. This is odd given that he muckraked on more topics and wrote more exposé articles for a longer period of time than any of the others. Nonetheless, he had no one "smoking gun" issue that won him fame. Tarbell's history of Standard Oil immortalized both her and John D. Rockefeller, Sinclair created The Jungle and touched millions of readers, and Steffens's "Shame of the Cities" still appears in high school textbooks. In addition, Russell's turn to Socialism in 1908 and his foray into elective office isolated him from the more conventional and popular reformers of his day, as well as muddied the waters between his roles as journalist and activist. Have historians resented Russell for leaving the conventional political fold and embracing radicalism? If so, they would be unfair. Russell's politics were always democratic. Frankly, much of what he wanted—from old-age insurance to government control of the railroads to stricter rules for the workplace—is accepted as social policy today, and hardly radical. Russell the person may have also diminished his standing in history. Formal, private, and almost austere, he has failed to capture the imagination of biographers. Indeed, finding the personal side of Russell has been near impossible for this writer. When they can be found, his letters are almost always on social issues and deal little with passion, love, or family. The diaries he kept during World War I discuss the war, and never his emotions.
As a public figure, however, Russell was not difficult to locate. He was everywhere in the early twentieth century—in newspapers, magazines, and books and on the lecture circuit. One summer I was in a New York University library looking at microfilmed material on socialism. A young man at an adjacent microfilm reader struggled with his machine. I helped him adjust his focus, and almost magically a large black-and-white photograph appeared of Charles Edward Russell, who was surrounded by Yiddish headlines. The man was reading Abraham Cahan's Forward, a daily newspaper whose crusades for social justice profoundly influenced the Jewish community. A story about Russell's 1912 race for New York governor—and his progressive platform—was the lead item in that day's Forward. It was ironic, of course, that Russell popped up in the center of page one of the Forward on an adjacent screen just as I was researching his life. But it was also fitting: he was a pervasive figure who deserves to be front and center in any discussion of twentieth-century social justice, investigative journalism, and progressive publicity.
* * *
Re-creating a life is never an easy task, and many people have helped me discover Charles Edward Russell. I would like to acknowledge and thank the following: the National Endowment for the Humanities for two grants; the State University of New York's College at New Paltz for various financial assistance; librarians at the Davenport (Iowa) Public Library, the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C., the New York State Library in Albany, and Ulster County Community College in Stone Ridge, New York. I am particularly grateful to William A. Vasse, A. David Kline, David Lavallee, Gerald Benjamin, Lynn Spangler, Howard Good, Deanna Lorenzo, Gerlinde Barley, and various librarians at New Paltz's Sojourner Truth Library. Many others helped, too, including James Boylan, Paul R. Baker, Susan Ciani, Martin Gottlieb, Janet Graham Gottlieb, Terrence Kivlan, Edith Miraldi, Lawrence Miraldi, Alan Silverman, and Bob Villelm. Special thanks to my editor, Deborah Gershenowitz. My children, Robert Michael and Sara Elspeth, always listened to my tales of research woes and glories. And my wife, Mary Beth Pfeiffer, patiently and endlessly talked me through this book, helped edit it, and made possible its completion. Finally, I dedicate this book to my father-in-law Charles Pfeiffer, who died just as the book was completed and who always encouraged me about the importance of history and a dedicated life.
CHAPTER ONE
THE JOHNSTOWN FLOOD: "ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE TO DESCRIBE"
I. GETTING THERE AT ANY COST
FOR THE TWENTY-NINE-YEAR-OLD CHARLES EDWARD RUSSELL, May 31, 1889 was one of those mundane working days that young newspaper reporters are forced to bear. He was assigned to cover the New York City police department's annual parade, a pompous ritual with little substance. Nonetheless, he pronounced it "the best effort the police ever made" and signed off on an eight-inch story for the New York Herald, one of the city's great newspapers and his employer for four years. Although the uneventful day seemed over for the blue-eyed Iowa native, it had barely begun. At 10:00 P.M., as he prepared to head for his Brooklyn flat, news flashed over the telegraph wire that would change Russell's standing as a journalist, test his mettle to survive, and begin to shape his view of the profession on which he would make his mark over the next four decades. A dam had burst twenty miles north of Johnstown, an industrial city of twelve thousand in western Pennsylvania. At least twelve people were dead in a flood that roared through the Conemaugh River Valley.
New York City has always been—for better or worse—the greatest hotbed of journalistic competition in America. Ever since the 1830s, when the one-cent newspaper emerged, the New York dailies battled fiercely for readers. In their effort to make circulations soar, publishers avidly pursued gruesome murders, juicy divorces, and natural disasters. But while editors might revel in the latest crime or crisis, reporters often cringed at their next assignment. Such was the case for Russell, whose editor now told him that he would have to trek 370 miles to the disaster scene.
By the time he was ready to depart, more telegrams had arrived; perhaps as many as forty people were now dead in Johnstown. Russell doubted the figures. Such things as forty fatalities in a dam burst do not happen, he thought. Exaggeration, he figured, was "the pure embroidery of the bulletin writer." A decade earlier, while working at his father's small newspaper in Davenport, Iowa, Russell had been in charge of the newspaper's telegraph office. He knew full well "how the country correspondent always loses his head in the presence of a story." Russell was expecting a simple assignment—"a night of rest in my lower berth [on the train], a column story filed early, and back to-morrow night." Little did he know that he was about to undertake an exhausting and perilous journey that would put his life at risk, bring him to the scene of the worst flood in American history, and offer him his first great newsgathering adventure—and social lesson—in what would be a lengthy and remarkable journalism career.
The same telegrammed news that came to the Herald also went to all the other New York newspapers, most likely initiated by an Associated Press correspondent in the area of the flood. The world's largest earthworks dam, perched 400 feet above Johnstown, holding back a 100-foot lake with 20 million tons of water, had been unleashed. Given the potential magnitude of this story, Russell was not surprised to find that when he went to the station a special newspaper car had been arranged to bring him and three other reporters, William J. Kenney of the New York Times, Richard A. Farrelly of the New York World, and Ervin Wardman of the New York Tribune, to the flood scene. The rival New York Sun, the Herald's bitter penny-press rival, was not invited.
Despite stormy weather, all went well on the ride south to Philadelphia, where the New York press corps learned that reporters from the City of Brotherly Love were also pursuing the story. A fierce competition to get to Johnstown first had begun. Once they were out of Philadelphia, the weather worsened, and three miles before Harrisburg torrential spring rains flooded the train tracks. Water came to within one inch of the train's firebox, terrifying the passengers as the train swayed from side to side. The train sloshed into Harrisburg at 8:00 A.M. where bad news awaited: the Pennsylvania Railroad had shut down all operations. With miles of track under water, the trains could go no further. The reporters were stuck hundreds of miles from Johnstown, where the Philadelphia newspapers were now reporting that the death toll might reach the thousands. But the challenge of outwitting a rampaging storm—and the rest of the press corps—had gotten Russell's competitive juices flowing. He needed to find a way to get to the biggest story of his life. "We must rush on at any cost," he declared, even if it meant going on foot.
The New Yorkers found a train heading directly south into West Virginia's Cumberland Valley, in the opposite direction from where they wanted to go; but from Virginia they could head west again, and then back north directly to Johnstown. The rampaging waters intervened once more, this time at Hagerstown, Maryland, where at 11:00 A.M. their train was forced to halt near a bridge across the overflowing Potomac River, a bridge too shaky to allow a train to cross. A railroad official, seeing how desperate this band of reporters was to get to the scene of the burst dam, told them that a wrecking car (a small vehicle about the size of a modern automobile) could take the reporters to the edge of the bridge. From there—if they dared—they could walk across. When Russell and his group arrived at the bridge, it was obvious why the train could not proceed: "The bridge was visibly trembling," Russell wrote. The rails were twisted out of shape and one of the bridge's main center supports was missing, swept away by the canal boats that had pummeled the support structure. Russell witnessed a completely intact farmer's barn in the morass. "I had a small taste for the crossing of that bridge and yet the thing had to be done," Russell later recalled. Using umbrellas and canes to steady themselves, Russell and his colleagues walked the plank. The key to not falling off the bridge, the reporters knew, was to avoid looking at the rushing water below. The first reporter put a cigar in his mouth and watched its tip; the man behind watched the feet of the man in front. "The river was roaring below us," Kenney recalled. To look down "was to throw away our lives." But the reporters made it across, after which Russell concluded dryly: "I have taken much pleasanter walks." Twenty minutes later the bridge was swept away into the river.
Now the fun really began for the reporters, who plodded over to a nearby farmer's house and pleaded for help. They got it. After a dinner of corn pone, salt pork, and potatoes, the farmer took them by wagon to the nearby Martinsburg train station where again the news was all bad. No trains would be leaving for a week; the reporters were stuck again, "completely shut off from the rest of the world as [if] we had been on a desert island." They were "frantic," Russell reported, not only that the Philadelphia pressmen would beat them but that somehow other New Yorkers would outrace them to Johnstown. As they studied maps and plotted ways out, blind luck entered the chase. An influential train superintendent, also stranded, took pity on the frazzled reporters and helped map a route to Johnstown. His plan: to take a special engine that would leave at daybreak, hire a carriage at Chambersburg, Maryland, and then walk the rest of distance. The plan sounded fine until the train official disclosed that he had given the same advice to the reporters from Philadelphia, also in hot pursuit of the story. The Philadelphians were to arrive in Chambersburg at the exact moment as the New Yorkers, with a carriage and horses awaiting them also. "May the best side win," the train official declared. Journalistic Rule Number 1, a rule Russell grew to hate, was now invoked: being first to the story is more important than anything else. Scoop the opposition by any means necessary.
Arriving at Chambersburg, the reporters were greeted at the train station by half the town, curious to see what the press knew. But the townspeople, it turned out, knew more than the reporters, who were told that the Philadelphia press corps was due at any moment. This sent the New Yorkers on a wild chase through town to find the lone available carriage. It had already been reserved by the Philadelphia reporters.
"This carriage is engaged for Mr. Brown," the driver told them.
"Right," said Wardman of the Tribune. "I'm Mr. Brown."
But, the driver protested, "I heard them call you Wardman."
Just a nickname, Wardman responded. By two in the morning they had gone as far as the carriage would take them, and they had to plead again with a nearby farmer to show them the road to Johnstown. Startled and wary in the early morning hours, the farmer held a gun to the reporters' heads until they convinced him that the grizzled and by now dirty quartet really were esteemed representatives of the press, not robbers. Once convinced, the farmer agreed to help; he immediately fed the reporters—their last good meal for a number of days. The farmer stopped in the small village of Bedford where a telegram from New York awaited the reporters: "No one is ahead of you. Go for it."
II. "TOO AWFUL TO TALK ABOUT"
By four o'clock in the morning on Sunday the reporters had reached the summit of the Allegheny Mountains, which was as far as the farmer's buggy could travel. Although only two hours from Johnstown, Russell knew that "the most perilous and difficult part of our journey" had begun. The farmer showed them a logger's path that would lead to the Conemaugh Valley. It was barely a path, forcing them to slog through ankle-deep mud, wade through bogs, and slide downhill over jagged rocks. "If any one of us had missed his footing," Russell remembered, "we would have fallen and been killed or seriously injured." In a dispatch to the Herald nine days later, Russell described how they felt: "dismal, cheerless, splashed with mud, fagged out with loss of sleep and sick at heart with the expectation that other men [from Philadelphia] had got through before us." One eyewitness who observed Russell and his colleagues enter Johnstown described them as "utterly exhausted by the hardship of the journey. The poor fellows were in far better condition for a hospital than for the tyrannic work which the situation demanded."
By 1:00 P.M. on Monday, nearly 60 hours after leaving New York, they finally reached the road that led directly to Johnstown. It was thronged with curious people from nearby towns as well as with refugees from the valley, people who had lost families, friends, and homes. "We were wet to the skin, covered with mud, and dog tired, " Russell wrote, "but so strange are the ways of the human mind that every sense of discomfort vanished at the almost incredible news that awaited us." Everyone they encountered on the road to Johnstown gave them the same response: "Boys, it is too awful to talk about." At fifteen minutes before two o'clock, they got their first view of the flooded city, which, Russell wrote, looked like dominoes set on end, then toppled. In a story filed two days later, Russell repeated: "The best way to get an idea of the wreck is to take a number of children's blocks, place them closely together and draw your hand through them." The New York reporters had beaten the Philly reporters. Reporters from the Sun arrived that evening. Russell, leading his group, was the first reporter from the east to set foot in Johnstown. But that accomplishment mattered little as he began to observe the scene of destruction.
Seven towns had been virtually wiped out when the dam burst. Constructed by a group of wealthy Pittsburgh industrialists who wanted a pristine place to fish, the dam had long been neglected by its owners and called unsafe. Hundreds of houses, many with people in them, had been washed down through the valley, collecting at a great stone arch bridge over the Conemaugh River. With people screaming, the houses crashed upon each other, and the wooden structures were caught up in a massive blaze. People stood helpless on the shoreline as they watched their neighbors burn to death. Piecing together the story, the reporters were overwhelmed. "Probably nowhere outside of a battlefield and not always there would such sights assail one," Russell recollected as he—and the reporters from Pittsburgh already on the scene—began to describe the disaster, trying to figure out what had happened, how many had died, and what could be done to bring relief and comfort to the victims of the great Johnstown Flood of 1889. Over the next ten days Russell wrote thousands of words, at times filling the first four pages of the Herald.
Still wearing a borrowed blue overcoat that had now become a muddy brown mess, Russell began to wander about and retrieve information to wire back to his editors who waited anxiously in New York. Russell telegraphed on Saturday, apparently from a train station, reporting, "On my way to the scene of the disaster I learned that 119 bodies had been counted in the flood." The following day, while Russell was wading through mud, the Herald joined the rest of the New York press in wild estimates about the loss of life. "Ten thousand may have perished," one headline blared. "Never before in this country has there happened a disaster of such appalling proportions," it reported. That was true; the eventual death toll was not.
The Herald's first two pages were filled with stories on the disaster. Some were obviously the product of a writer sitting in the Ann Street office in Manhattan, imagining, as a novelist would, what the flood was like. Waiting for Russell's facts, the Herald took dispatches from Pittsburgh correspondents who exaggerated the disaster and then either made up or used unreliable sources to allege, for example, that Hungarian immigrants were stealing jewelry from the dead. When Russell finally began to report on June 4, he did not mention Hungarian thieves. In writing that reflected a man moved by the events around him, Russell struggled for the appropriate words. "The horrors that are seen every hour, who can attempt to describe," he wrote in his first day at the scene. "It is impossible to describe the appearance of Main Street," he added at another point. "No pen can adequately depict the horrors of this twin disaster—holocaust and deluge," he wrote in one of his four stories of June 4. Yet Russell did effectively and graphically describe horrors over the next few days. There was, for example, John Jordan of the town of Conemaugh whom he spotted wandering the valley in search of his lost family. At daylight Jordan found his wife's sewing machine in the mud. Workmen helping him dig at the site first unearthed his little boy and then his wife and daughter, with the mother's arms clinging to the children. Wrote Russell, "The white haired old man sat down in the ashes and caressed the dead bodies and talked to them just as if they were alive until some one came and led him quietly away." In one place Russell saw a human foot protruding from the mud; in another he watched workers remove "burned and mangled bodies"; at still one more site Russell saw workers dig up a pocketbook with a women's hand clutching the handle. All day long, Russell reported, "People found what they were looking for and fainted at the sight... afraid to look and afraid to go away." Sometimes Russell actually helped dig for the bodies.
Russell's first-day writing output was impressive, especially considering the conditions under which he and the other reporters had to work. The Herald gave over three full pages to his stories. The main story, headlined "Death, Ruin, Plague," was remarkably similar to a modern news story—tight and crisply written, with a clean and comprehensive overview of the state of Johnstown on Day Four of the disaster. Disease threatened the area if clean-up work did not proceed quickly, he told readers, perhaps hoping to put pressure on Pennsylvania officials to pour resources into the clean-up (which they quickly did). Russell explained the kind of cleanup that needed to take place, and observed that the Herald had suggested to officials what could be done to speed up the demolition of wrecked houses that clogged the riverway. Dynamite was Russell's solution. His story then provided a cogent background of what had happened to cause the dam burst and how the blaze that burned up so many houses had started. He wrote a chilling description of the fire, using the kind of refrain and repetition that would later find its way into many of his thirty-one books and his speeches when he ran for political office. He wrote: "Thousands of people stood upon the river bank and saw and heard it all and still were powerless to help. They saw people kneeling in the flames and praying. They saw families gathered together with their arms around each other and waited for death. They saw people going and tearing their hair.... Some saw their friends and some their wives and children presiding before them... men laid down on the ground and wept."
After Russell gathered his facts, he had to find a place to write, he needed a telegraph wire on which to transmit, and he needed a place to rest his aching and tired bones. In the wrecked city that was Johnstown, all of those needs presented challenges. Most of the reporters took over an old brickworks near the stone bridge where houses had piled up, occupying two floors of one building and an adjacent woodshed. The place became known as the "Lime Kiln Club," and a comradeship grew among the reporters, many of whom became life-long friends. The writing conditions were less than ideal. The reporters crafted their copy using barrelheads, coffin lids, and shovel bottoms as writing desks. They were a motley-looking crew. "In a short time," one observer reported, "the faces of the hard-working writers became nearly black as if they were negroes [sic]." With stories in hand, the reporters had to get them quickly to a telegraph operator, no easy task since telegraph wires were limited and competing writers were many. By late Monday the number of telegraph operators—of which Russell said were "painfully inadequate"—had been increased enough to allow for day and night shifts. Nonetheless, Russell lamented, "many good stories were written but few got into print."
The competition between newspapers was fierce. Through blind luck and sheer force of personality, Russell had an advantage. The Associated Press's general manager, William H. Smith, happened to be in Pennsylvania right before the flood and, by coincidence, was on a hill overlooking the valley when the flood rolled over Johnstown. Writing steadily for two hours, he filed the first dispatches from the scene. He also established, in a remote and secret location, one telegraph line just for the AP. Once his main stories were filed after the first two days of the disaster, however, he inexplicably abandoned the site, leaving the telegraph operator with no work. The operator, "being of great goodness of heart," said Russell, confided in the Herald reporter and offered his services. "In response I gave him enough to do," Russell later wrote. As his copy flowed to the Herald, no one in New York—or Johnstown—could understand how Russell was getting so much through or why the Herald was able consistently to fill two and three pages with stories. The break helped make Russell a celebrity. One New York newspaper wrote a story called "How Russell Got the Wire," reporting that he had devised an elaborate system of relays and signals to dispatch his words. "This was pure fiction," Russell later wrote, but in order to protect the operator he never revealed this until his 1914 autobiography.
While Russell had found a way to dispatch his stories, room and board was a different story. With food in short supply for thousands of people and long lines of survivors waiting for relief supplies, the reporters, like everyone else, had to beg for food. It consisted mostly of canned meat, stale bread, leftover cheese, hot coffee, and whiskey. When the dashing Richard Harding Davis, later to become America's most famous war correspondent, came to Johnstown from Philadelphia to report the disaster, he stepped off a carriage and asked where he could find a good steak and a freshly starched shirt. The reporters laughed. Since many of the relief organizations that had sprung up distrusted the press corps and refused to feed them, Russell and his New York colleagues made do with sandwiches they had brought from the last farmer who helped them. Eventually, the reporters hired their own cook, a German who was paid fifty cents by each reporter to cook meals at his house, which, oddly, had not been ruined.
The search for news provided more danger than the search for food. Russell reported in the Herald that he had to walk across swaying footbridges to reach news sites. Moreover, on more than one occasion, thieves and ruffians, who were looting the dead and drinking wildly from abandoned barrels of whiskey, threatened the reporters and anyone else who might stand in their way. "Human buzzards flocking to the scene of horrors" was how Russell described them.
As for sleeping quarters, the four New York reporters found a great barn that had previously housed a steel company's horses. They convinced the owner, an austere foreigner who spoke little English, to let them sleep in the lofts, a "savage shelter," Russell admitted, with rats crawling around, but that nonetheless gave the reporters a place to plop, exhausted, each night. Russell feared that he and his colleagues would burn to death in the wood structure because the owner insisted on locking the barn's single door from the outside every evening as they retired. But each morning, the proprietor of the Hotel Boheme, as Russell called it, would unlock the door at sunrise and the reporters would begin again begin searching for the stories that were easier to find than food in Johnstown.
III. THE LESSONS OF JOHNSTOWN: POWER, POTENTIAL, PROFITS
What Russell found most of all in Johnstown was death. It hung in the air and it lay scattered on and under the muddy ground. On Day Five, June 4, as rescue crews continued to find ten bodies an hour, he wrote: "The town seems like a great tomb." Soon after the dam burst, the director of rescue efforts had told the press that between twelve thousand and fifteen thousand bodies might eventually be recovered, an estimate that turned out to be greatly exaggerated. In the end, the final count was more like twenty-two hundred, still enough to far surpass statistics of any other American flood. Wading through mud and water, Russell wandered over a twenty-three-mile region, from South Fork to New Florence. He described what he witnessed:
I walked over this extraordinary mess this morning and saw the fragments of thousands of articles. In one place the roots of forty frame houses were packed in together just as you would place forty bended cards one on top of another. The iron rods of a bridge were twisted into a perfect spiral six times around one of the girders. Just beneath it was a women's trunk.... From under the trunk men were lifting the body of its owner, perhaps, so burned, so horribly mutilated, so torn limb from limb that even the workmen who have seen so many of these frightful sights that they have begun to get used to them turned away sick at heart.... In another place I saw a child's skull in a bed of ashes, but no sign of a body.
At another point, he added, "The place is deserted. Arms and legs are protruding from the mud and it makes the most sickening of pictures." Amidst the gloom and stench, he managed to coach some survivors into telling their stories. One man recalled riding twenty-three miles down the rampaging river on a log before he clutched on to a house, saving himself. A watchman told of climbing a hill to escape the onrushing river that he said seemed three stories high.
Over the next days, Russell watched—and described—the gruesome rescue efforts: a charred body being speared with a pitchfork, for example. In clearing out a pile of lumber, he saw workers uncover a girl who was tightly clutching a baby. Russell graphically described the "pathetic incident," balancing sensational scenes of the disaster with more sober and constructive reporting, a juggling act he would follow throughout his journalism career. For example, he described the "overpowering... stench that assails one's sense," in order to warn authorities of possible diseases. From the outset, the Herald called for greater relief efforts and began its own campaign to raise money, eventually turning over a large donation and considerable supplies to a children's aid society in Johnstown. In particular, he called on Pennsylvania to provide the workmen needed for the clean-up, writing, "Action cannot and must not be delayed." He began to poke his head into other areas, donning his watchdog's hat to wonder in one story why relief funds were not evident. "Some inquisitive people," Russell wrote, "are asking how and where the committee has spent" the half a million dollars that it had been sent.
Newspapers across the country reported that their circulations soared as readers flocked to follow the Johnstown flood story. By midweek dozens of reporters, sketch artists, and photographers, some from as far away as San Francisco, had descended like locusts upon Johnstown, coming in on special trains, handcars, and on horseback. Despite the press's reputation that it consisted of nothing more than a collection of drunken louts and laggards, the reporters eventually won plaudits for their writing and conduct. Observer-turned-historian George T. Ferris cited their "courage and industry," adding, "There is no doubt that the health of most of them suffered." In fact, the four reporters from New York came to call themselves the "Johnstown Sufferers." Russell came down with rheumatism that never left him. The press's purity of purpose was summarized by Reverend C. N. Field of Philadelphia, who had hurried to Johnstown to offer his help. He observed: "If a few priests had been in Johnstown and had worked half as hard as these reporters, they might have done untold good. The reporters endured hardships of every kind—all for the sake of their papers and to give news to the world.... I was ashamed of myself when I compared myself to a reporter."
By the middle of the second week, the sun began to shine again in Johnstown which, Russell concluded, "begins to look a little like the habituation of a civilized community." For the next two days the Herald's coverage was optimistic and upbeat, and by June 12, when Russell personally delivered the Herald's supplies and donations, it was clear that the story, like the river, had begun to ebb. On June 13, for the first time in twelve days, there were no stories in the Herald from Johnstown. Russell and the rest of what came to be called "The Big Four" from New York had returned to their home bases. It was time to turn to new stories.
Russell, a lover of Shakespeare and Swinburne, as well as of political economy, was undoubtedly more thoughtful than the typical reporter of the 1880s. Although many young men who came to journalism after the Civil War saw it as a service to democracy or as a training ground for literature, an equal number or more tumbled into journalism with little training, no purpose, and few scruples. It was a profession for the young and the footloose—long hours, low pay, and lots of liquor, which perhaps the reporters needed as a balm to soothe themselves in the wake of the gruesome events they often had to chronicle. But Russell, who never favored liquor, likely because his grandfathers were both English-born temperance supporters, always had a ministerial and mature tone in his reportorial work. As early as 1881, when he graduated from a private preparatory boarding school in New England, he sketched out his purpose in life. He "who fixes his ambition upon a life devoted to Humanity," he wrote in the school's newspaper, "chooses the grandest, loftiest, highest aim that ever caused the human heart to warm." There is only one way to be "truly happy," Russell concluded, and that "is to make some one else happy." This hardly sounded like a member of the Bohemian Brigade, as the press was sometimes called. It more resembled a man of the cloth.
Johnstown was a defining event for Russell as he came to understand that reporting incidents, beyond their pure narrative value, was full of meaning and consequence. Russell's coverage of the Johnstown Flood is useful for introducing and starting to understand him. It presents a snapshot of how he behaved under pressure and in a crisis. What is immediately evident is Russell's ambivalence about journalism and about private enterprise and capitalism. "As with travel," he wrote about reporting, "the charm lies in the changing perspective that constantly challenges the attention with a new object." If not for this variety, the "hardship and vicissitude, sometimes walked with risk" and the brutal "scenes of nature" could easily make a reporter "loathe his calling and forget his duties." Much of the Johnstown assignment he did not loathe, however. It is clear that he loved the pursuit of the Johnstown story. Despite the life-threatening perils it presented, this was an adventure, akin to his youthful rafting trips down the Mississippi River. He spoke with glee about sliding down mud paths and outwitting the Philadelphia reporters. His memoir entitled "The Rocky Road to Johnstown" is, in fact, mostly devoted to retelling how he chased down this story; he devotes scant space to describing what he found when he arrived, probably a calculated decision to avoid sensational and gruesome details of the disaster scene.
Along with the chase, it is evident that Russell got a charge out of finding a clever, albeit fortuitous way to transmit the stories that enabled him to "scoop" the rest of the press corps—and make his name in journalism. After Johnstown he said, "I found myself elevated to a place in the Journalistic Academy." While he argued later that his good fortune was the result of mere luck, he also, in his typically self-effacing way, let the reader understand that his affable personality and conversational charm allowed him to disarm the telegraph operator and thus make the transmissions possible. Despite what he wrote, it was not luck that led to his success. His skill, in this case as a newsgatherer, certainly had something to do with his success. And that explains—in part, at least—why, soon after he returned to New York from Johnstown, he was called one of the ten best reporters in America, an honor he found important enough to mention in his memoirs.
Russell also stressed his work in journalism because he felt it was important—that delivering information to people constituted a vital part of democracy, even if, as he later lamented, the people needed to hear a fact repeated twenty times before they would remember or understand it. Journalism was always Russell's true calling, even though it led him logically down other career paths. It provided him with his true social education and led him to understand and identify what he saw as the worst parts of a society—poverty, unemployment, slums, racial tension, and the root of them all: the financial chicanery and manipulation of unrestrained, profit-seeking private corporations. It also led him to believe that none of that could be altered without the reporting of facts—without journalism. He clung to this belief always, even during the years when he despaired about the direction of America before World War I. In fact, throughout his career and life—even though it included political activism, government diplomacy, and the writing of poetry—he always considered himself, first, foremost, and primarily, a journalist, "an impartial observer of men and manners."
In Russell's work in Johnstown, three aspects of a progressive and constructive journalism are glimpsed, if only fleetingly. As his stories began to hint at an emerging scandal in the use of relief money being sent to the beleaguered area, he acted as a check on government. Similarly, he put pressure on government when he sounded the alarm in his early stories, warning about the possible spread of disease if clean-up efforts weren't pursued with more vigor. Moreover, Russell was not content to sit idly by and merely watch the recovery effort. Despite his claims of being a neutral observer, he eschewed neutrality in a literal sense by actually helping to dig up bodies. In a more typically journalistic manner he chipped in with advice: form a commission, he suggested, to coordinate relief efforts; use dynamite to blow up the clogged logjam on the river. Russell was not content to observe, even at this early stage of his career.
Finally, Russell learned the power of the press as a catalyst in mobilizing the public. He was able to raise money and provide supplies to a private group that was coordinating disaster relief, in an era before either the government or insurance could help victims. When all newspaper relief efforts were completed, the press had helped raise nearly four million dollars—more than had ever been raised in America. About $516,000 came from New York City, including $2,000 from Joseph Pulitzer of the New York World, Russell's future employer. The press could not save mankind from disaster, Russell knew, but it sure could raise a lot of money to do some good. For the generation of reporters who came to the profession of reporting after the Civil War believing that journalism was a noble profession, almost a higher calling, surely that belief was underscored by the success of the relief efforts in Johnstown. For Russell, the lesson of Johnstown also underscored his belief that good, not evil, lurked in the hearts of mankind. If evil was about, it was created by economic environment, not by the natural order of things.
In Johnstown, Russell found ample evidence that the natural order, "the system," as he later called it, had gone awry—in the causes of the disaster itself, as well as in his viewing of aspects of the press's behavior. Historians are quite clear on what caused the dam to break: negligence, plain and simple. The dam above Johnstown was originally built to create a reservoir that would fill a canal, which would in turn provide a road linking Johnstown to Pittsburgh. By the time it was completed in 1852, however, a rail line had made the roadway obsolete. Nearly thirty years later, a Pittsburgh realtor bought the dam, which was in serious disrepair. He then reconstructed the earthwork dam—the world's largest—and created Conemaugh Lake. One hundred wealthy Pittsburgh families, including Andrew Carnegie, Henry Clay Frick, and the Mellons, spent $2,000 each to become members of the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club and have the privilege of spending two weeks in the rugged, isolated beauty of the valley. The wealthy club members failed to take care of their dam, however. It was patched with mud, rocks, hay, even horse manure. One spillway was covered with a screen so as to prevent the stock of fish from escaping. Once clogged with debris, that screen became a plug, blocking the rising water from escaping the reservoir. The result of the indifference of the stingy industrialists from Pittsburgh was the Johnstown Flood. The social lesson, which was a national disgrace, was not lost on Russell, although neither he nor any members of the press ever publicly assailed or even mentioned the affluent owners of the failed dam.
Then there was the journalistic lesson. Even though Russell told with some glee his story of getting to Johnstown, he was harshly critical of what it all meant. "I was hired," he admitted, "to outwit my fellow-workers, to surpass them in cunning and adroitness, to secure something they did not secure." What he had to do to get the story was of no concern to Russell's employers. "By whatsoever means, I must do this," they believed, and while, two decades later, he publicly rebelled at the rules of the game, in 1891 he was content to play by those rules. If his editors back in New York had argued that getting to the site and telling the story was necessary in order to prod authorities and protect the flood's victims, or if the true motive was to disseminate the disaster's facts so that the public could then share relief supplies with the poor homeless and helpless families, then the chase and the maneuvering could be rationalized and the ends might justify the means. But Russell came to disbelieve this, just as the public had known better about the press' real motivation.
The "Big Four" reporters from New York had to trick the other reporters so that "the proprietor of the newspaper might have the exclusive sale of a merchantable commodity and thereby increase his profits," Russell later concluded. Lincoln Steffens, who became Russell's colleague of sorts after the turn of the century as they were joined in the muckraking journalism movement, described Russell as "the most sensitive, sincere, imaginative of the whole tribe, and the most wounded, too." When the Johnstown victims bled, Russell bled with them. His anguish was evident in his writing, in searing and empathic images such as a father stroking the heads of his dead family. Russell might have had fun getting to Johnstown, but when he got there he had work to do, serious work, and his goal was not to pad the profits of James Gordon Bennett Jr., the Herald owner who was off cavorting in Paris. Russell's coverage of the Johnstown flood was his first journalistic crusade, a crusade for which he had been preparing ever since the days when, as a teenager, he set foot inside his father's small-town newspaper in Davenport, Iowa, where he was schooled about the true purpose of journalism: to seek out evil and protect the people.
CHAPTER TWO
THE PIOUS AND THE POWERFUL
I. FROM THE THAMES TO THE MISSISSIPPI
ON A HOT, SUN-FLOODED DAY IN 1869, NINE-YEAR-OLD Charles Edward Russell was left alone with his grandfather, the Reverend William Rutledge, at his grandfather's Le Claire, Iowa, home near the banks of the Mississippi River. His mother and grandmother had gone bargain-hunting to a nearby town. Little Charles was in his grandfather's study reading a history of England, the mother country of his grandparents and his parents. He was not all that interested in the text, he admitted; he was looking at the photographs only as a way of avoiding going outside the house where a raft that had come down from Black River, Wisconsin, had just tied up. Young Charles, along with his friends and many local residents, was particularly fearful of anyone from Black River because, local legend had it, the Black River rafters "would as soon stab you as look at you." Everyone knew, Russell said, that "the real business of their souls was battle, murder, and sudden death." Just the day before, Russell's fears had come true when Johnny Gordon, one of his buddies, had gone aboard a Black River raft to deliver foodstuffs for Waldo Parkhurst, the grocer. Johnny didn't notice that a man lay coiled up on the raft, who sprung to his feet with a howl when Johnny stepped on his toe. Dropping his baskets, Johnny ran, but the man trailed after in hot pursuit with a long-handled boat hook that he threw at Johnny, catching him in the leg. The alert Johnny, bloodied, dove from the raft, swam to the nearby shore, and then hobbled to the Russell household.
Thoughts of Johnny Gordon raced through Russell's mind as a knock came at the back door. Was the man with the boat hook looking for revenge on the Russells for harboring Johnny and mending his leg? Russell shuddered at the thought, but would never tell his grandfather—a bellowing, fearless Baptist preacher known as "the Elder"—that he was afraid. Grandpa Rutledge, young Russell knew, "feared nothing that walked, drunk or sober." This man would climb on the roof of his house in a fierce rainstorm just to get a closer look at lightning bolts. Rather than face his grandfather, Russell answered the knock. With trembling hand, he pulled the door's bolt and there stood a group of raftsmen—Black River raftsmen.
The band of men at the door had big black slouch hats clutched in their hands, with red handkerchiefs tied around their necks. They looked scruffy but scared. "Sonny," one of them said, "kin you get us a sight of the Elder? We need him right bad—an' we ain't goin' to hurt nobody." Once summoned, the Reverend Rutledge politely escorted the group to his parlor, gave them buttermilk—an act of kindness that astonished Russell—and inquired how he could help. One of the Black River rafters had, as Russell put it, "been taken powerful bad," and was near death. He wanted a parson. Reverend Rutledge and his grandson walked to the raft to comfort the dying man with a powerful passage from the Bible. When the reverend finished reading, one of the rafters, who had a great black beard, fouled with whiskey and tobacco, escorted the young Russell and his grandfather back to the house where, with the reverend's permission, he handed the boy a small pocket knife as a gift. Silently, he returned to the raft, never looking back. After that day, Russell said, he never again feared the Black River rafters, a fact that won him distinction in the eyes of his friends.
As an adult, Russell never made too much of the lessons that might have come from this incident. But later in his life, in fact nearly forty years later, when he entered the hard-boiled realm of American politics in New York, he was not unlike his grandfather, the preacher. Russell bellowed about injustice, nosed up to foul sights and people with compassion, and mixed it up—pleasantly, it might be said—with people from all political, social, and racial hues. He wandered the Lower East Side poverty districts, the Tenderloin vice region, and the fashionable Fifth Avenue area. He seemed comfortable in various milieus, although his sympathy rested always with the underclass, even if the rest of society wanted little to do with such lepers and outcasts as the Black River rafters. Writing a column of commentary for a newspaper, he often concluded his weekly advice with the word "Amen," as if ending a prayer or a sermon. Although "the Elder" died when Russell was nine years old, the lessons his grandfather taught in his formative years stayed with Russell, as did his other most important early experience—the apprentice training in journalism he received from his father, Edward. Edward Russell had married Rutledge's daughter Lydia and moved the family from Le Claire to the bustling Midwest port city of Davenport, Iowa, where pioneer immigrants like the Russells and Rutledges mingled with older-stock Americans.
Charles Edward Russell was born to Lydia Rutledge and Edward Russell in Davenport on September 25, 1860. Located 182 miles west of Chicago, Davenport was at the confluence of three great influences on American life: steamboats, railroads, and farms. The steamboats, which young Russell learned to pilot quite well, plied the river in search of Davenport's mill products and its rich limestone as well as, eventually, its corn and hogs. Life along Davenport's five miles of Mississippi riverfront gave young Russell a storehouse of tales.
Soon after the Civil War, the railroads, which came in from St. Paul, Minnesota, Chicago, Milwaukee, and the Pacific, competed with and overtook the steamboat as the main way Davenport farmers and producers shipped out their goods. Understanding and explaining the might and power of these railroads eventually became an obsession for Russell when he began to write for mass circulation national magazines after the turn of the century. The corn, which fed Iowa's livestock, especially the hogs that were raised near Davenport, was an early and successful product in Iowa; two of Russell's brothers worked as young men on local farms. In Charles Russell's early years, however, the Mississippi River was the hub of most activities for both him and Davenport.
Incorporated in 1851, Davenport had grown rapidly following the opening to traffic in 1856 of the first Mississippi River bridge and the establishment soon after of the United States arsenal at nearby Rock Island. Charles got an eyeful playing near the docks of the Mississippi where he often launched rafts with his friends. At one point, Russell managed to work on a steamboat as a pilot's "cub"—an errand boy for the captain—and he got the adventure of his life. The steamboat he was working on, the Alec Scott, was racing a competitor at top speed down the Mississippi from St. Louis to New Orleans. The captain, who wanted to speak with the boat's engineer, sent Russell to the engine room where he discovered that the engineer, for unknown reasons, had tied up a crewman assistant who was held up at gunpoint. Suddenly, the engineer turned the gun on young Russell, who fled. Russell remembers, "I don't think I ever moved quite so quick in my life." While the boat's captain and co-pilot went down to the engine room to disarm the engineer, cub Russell was left at the wheel of the steamboat running at top speed in one of the most treacherous sections of the river. It would be difficult to navigate for a veteran pilot, impossible for a neophyte. Russell tried his best to control the large wooden steering wheel. He sat on it. He stuck his feet in the spokes. Nothing worked. Finally, sensing disaster, he blew the steamboat's whistles, telling the passengers to get out lifeboats. "I put my foot on the wheel, I shut my eyes and waited for the crash," Russell later remembered. Miraculously, however, the steamer stopped. The boat reversed and the engines ceased. Down below, unbeknownst to Russell, the captain had gotten a water hose, cooled down the crazed engineer, and shut off the engines to avoid disaster. Said pilot cub Russell: "I was as badly scared as any tenderfoot. I would have given all the money I could make in a lifetime to be on dry ground."
When he was back on land, Russell saw lots of drunken sailors frequenting the wharves and gin spots, and they provided him with a glimpse of seedy life that he would not see much of until he went to New York as a reporter in 1886. Russell, who liked to play baseball and a game called scrubs, was apparently a bit of a cutup. He told a Davenport friend: "I admit that I was about the orneriest kid in town and always playing pranks." If he had an ornery and irascible streak, it likely came from his father, who one history of Iowa pointed out, was known for the "steadfastness of his convictions... one of his strongest characteristics."
Russell's father, like his mother, was born near London, England, one of five children who immigrated to America in September 1845 with Charles Russell's grandfather, Scotch-born William Russell. The Russell family had not fared well in England, partly because William had quit a good job in a whiskey distillery when the temperance movement burst onto London. "It was characteristic of him to put his convictions ahead of his material interests," Charles Russell recalled of his grandfather. After quitting his job, William worked earnestly for reform as secretary of a secret temperance society and then publicly as a temperance lecturer. However, he barely was able to keep his family fed. Edward Russell later told Charles and his sisters about those days of struggle in London. In particular, he recalled the harsh boarding school to which he was sent where life resembled conditions in a Charles Dickens novel, replete with painful whippings for the students. The boarding school experience, Charles Russell felt, planted in his father "a hatred for cruelty, a passionate love for justice and a sympathy with the oppressed that shaped all his after life." And they shaped his son's life.
In England, William Russell and William Rutledge were acquaintances, probably because both were ardent reformers and teetotalers. Rutledge, an itinerant preacher and master tailor, met Russell, a blacksmith, on a trip to London. In 1842, Rutledge moved to America, going initially to Philadelphia, where he became an ordained Baptist minister and urged the Russells to join him. When a fire in the small coffee shop that William Russell operated near the Thames River burned the establishment to the ground, he decided to follow Rutledge's suggestion. The family sailed for New York, moving after a short time to the remote village of Callicoon in western New York, on the Delaware River. After a failed attempt at farming in the rugged woods of Sullivan County in the Catskill Mountains, the Russell family accepted the invitation—again—of their British friend. William Rutledge, who had gone from Philadelphia to Iowa, urged them to move closer to a real river in the Midwest. Russell, with his wife, daughter, and three of his sons in tow (Edward stayed behind to work), visited Le Claire, Iowa, where Reverend Rutledge was preaching for free to a Baptist congregation. To pay his bills, the reverend was working as a tailor, barely eking out a living. Souls on Sunday; trousers on weekdays.
In New York, the harsh climate and rocky soil had not been kind to the Russells, but the fertile Upper Mississippi, where pioneers were flocking, seemed more hospitable. Iowa, in particular, was attracting European immigrants, especially Germans. Consequently, the Russells sold their New York property to relocate near the booming Mississippi, the nation's chief artery of traffic. In September 1848, Edward Russell, who had become a carpenter's apprentice after arriving in New York, joined his family in Le Claire. The Russell boys all found work—Edward as a carpenter, William and Josiah as farmhands, and Thomas at the sawmill.
Four years later, in April 1852, Edward married Rutledge's daughter Lydia, Charles Edward's mother who also bore three daughters. Lydia became a homemaker; she loved music and Shakespeare, two interests she passed on to her son, who would eventually write four volumes of poetry. Her collection of Shakespeare's works became one of her son's prized possessions. As for Edward, he worked by day and studied and read at night. He became particularly interested in political discussions and could not avoid, of course, the issue of slavery, which, probably at the urging of Reverend Rutledge, he grew to oppose fiercely. Using the pen name Agricola, he made his first contribution to a newspaper, the Iowa True Democrat, an antislavery journal then published in Mount Pleasant, Iowa. He become a frequent contributor to a minor abolitionist publication, the National Era. In the fall of 1858, at the urging of his friends, he became editor of the weekly Le Claire Republic, which he left in 1859 because it paid so little money—"about enough," his son reported, "to sustain a canary bird." He returned to carpentry, but soon after took a job in nearby Davenport in the county clerk's office. Two years later he became an assistant postmaster until, in 1862, when Charles Edward was two years old, he became part owner and editor of the Davenport Gazette. "A newspaper was his natural home," Charles Edward said. He "could never be happy without pen in hand and the rumble of a press near by."
II. FROM IOWA TO VERMONT
The Gazette, in existence for twenty-one years when Edward Russell took over, grew steadily under his stewardship until it became an award-winning Republican paper, one of the largest dailies in Iowa. Journalistic objectivity was not even an ideal for the American press in the years before the Civil War, so it is no surprise that Russell's newspaper clearly identified itself with one political party. Edward Russell was a busy man, known for arriving at his newspaper at seven o'clock each morning and then not leaving until midnight, when the morning-published Gazette was finally put to bed and readied for printing. Nonetheless, Russell also found time to serve as postmaster of Davenport. He was appointed to the position by President Lincoln in 1864, undoubtedly a reward for his support of the president and for his founding in 1860 of the Scott County Republican Party. Such political patronage had been common for many years, and friendly newspaper editors, in particular, were often rewarded with positions as postmaster. In October 1865, however, Russell was removed from office by President Andrew Johnson, who succeeded the slain president in April. Russell wrote that his father was removed from office by Johnson for political reasons, an allegation confirmed by three other historical sources. The Gazette had been one of the first to criticize Johnson's Reconstruction policies after the Civil War as Russell quickly allied himself with the radical Republicans who were poised to thwart Johnson's Reconstruction ideas. Indeed, his criticism went beyond Johnson's views on Reconstruction; the Gazette, staunch opponent of slavery and its extension to the states bordering North and South, had earlier denounced Johnson when he was proposed as a running mate of Lincoln. Was Johnson aware of this? There is no way to tell, and it is possible that Johnson simply ousted Russell because he wanted to install his own man, not a Lincoln appointee, in the postmaster's position. Johnson had been a Democrat until the start of the Civil War; party loyalty might not have run deep. More likely, Russell's barbs, coming from one of the largest daily newspapers in Iowa, had stung the new president. In fact, if Russell had known the truth about Johnson's true feelings about African Americans, the barbs might have been even nastier. While the president had publicly stated that he wanted to be the black man's Moses, he also had told the governor of Missouri that America was "a country for white men, and by God, as long as I am President, it shall be a government for white men." To one of the top officials in his administration, he explained in 1865, "Everyone would and must admit that the white race was superior to the black." Edward Russell, on the contrary, always told his son that "God's children of a dark complexion are as much God's children as those of a light complexion." Acting on this belief, Edward helped Iowa in 1865 enact an amendment to its constitution to allow blacks to vote in the state. Voting rights for blacks after the Civil War was one of the key issues at the crux of the great controversy over Reconstruction in which Johnson found himself embroiled soon after he assumed the presidency. He had a growing corps of enemies and critics in the Radical Republicans, who eventually sought his impeachment. It would make sense then, when he could, to rid himself of an enemy. Russell might still be able to criticize the president in his newspaper, but Johnson could make sure that the government would not pay part of his critic's salary. With Russell's ousting, Johnson got his revenge; not the last time an opponent struck back at the opinionated editor. With the election of Ulysses S. Grant to the presidency, Russell got back his postmaster's job in 1868. Petitioned by Davenporters who supported Edward Russell, President Grant, probably looking quickly to undo Johnson's influence, installed Russell back in office where he wore his dual hat again, spreading the word in print and in the mails.
As for the young Charles Russell, he felt most comfortable in two places—around the waterfront and in the newspaper offices of the Gazette which shifted locales eight times between its founding in 1841 and 1872 when Edward Russell, still the editor and part owner, moved the newspaper into an impressive-looking three-story red-brick building. The Gazette occupied the entire corner of East Third and Perry Streets in Davenport and boasted three presses, including a large cylinder press. Edward Russell made clear to his son and his staff the purpose of journalism. The press, he lectured, must be "the guardian and nourisher of civic virtue." Its goal: "terrify evil-doers and arouse the communal conscience."
Unfortunately, Charles might have taken this command too literally too early in his career. A disaster struck the newspaper near 4:00 A.M., when the printing press had begun to print page four, which was always reserved for local news. A compositor, playing tricks near the presses, dropped a glue brush into a press. It made unreadable an Edward Russell story, placed on that page, that accused a local company of trying to pay bribes to the Davenport fire department in order to secure a contract to install electrical fire alarms. The original handwritten copy of the story could not be found, and Edward Russell, who lived too far away to be reached by messenger, could not be reached since the newspaper had yet to install a telephone. The young Russell, fledgling crusader, decided he could re-create the story without his father's help. "I know what my father thinks about this business," he told himself. Russell proceeded to write a new version, had it set in type, and then ordered the presses to roll. The story by the young man who later became a fastidious researcher and fact checker was filled with epithets such as "thieves" and "scoundrels," and he had gotten the facts all wrong to boot. Two libel suits were threatened the next day, threats his father was able to forestall. Although the young Russell had much to learn, the newspaper apparently did not suffer too much disgrace. It won plaudits, for example, at one Iowa State Fair, when the Gazette was named the state's best daily newspaper and was cited also for producing the "best and greatest variety of work from a single office," albeit work that was at times a bit overzealous.
In the summers, with no school to attend, the young Russell spent considerable time at the Gazette office, mostly pasting labels on newspapers to be mailed to customers. He was especially entranced by the tramp printers who would float into town and work for short periods in the composing room. One in particular—Russell called him Scotty—was held in high esteem because he was a wizard at typesetting lines of hot metal type that brought the news into print and because, having hopped freight trains across America, roaming from city to city, he seemed so worldly. Most of all, though, Scotty was held in awe because he had worked in New York, the place Russell the youngster called "the newspaper mecca of those that dared... the far away shrine of perfect printing, the wonderful metropolis, in the mists of imagination looming great and strange." To Scotty, every place but New York City was second class.
While Russell and the Gazette staff took a break from office work by standing near a window on Perry Street, just outside Edward Russell's office, Scotty the philosopher held court. He regaled the others with tales of his newspaper life: of how Horace Greeley's handwriting was impossible to read; of how he had chatted with legendary editor Charles A. Dana of the Sun; and of how James Gordon Bennett, Jr. himself actually supervised the Herald's composing room. Scotty had worked with Samuel Medill at the Chicago Tribune and he had actually been cursed by the fabled Chicago Times editor Wilbur Storey. "He has been everywhere and seen everything," Russell said of his first hero. Inevitably, however, all conversations turned back to New York, wherein Russell became a "rapt and joyous listener" as Scotty took his Midwestern naifs on a tour of Manhattan's underside, from the Bowery to Hell's Kitchen. And then they would return to newspaper work.
"Did you ever see a good head line written outside of New York?" he would ask. "Now tell me, did you? Well, neither did anybody else. And look at the way they dish up their stuff there; it isn't newspaper writing, it's literature.... Boston is nothing compared to New York." Scotty was a "soiled and sorry ragamuffin," Russell knew, but he told tales more interesting than fiction, and he knew about life. Charles Edward Russell wanted to be able to tell such stories and know about life in New York. Before going to Broadway, however, Russell took a detour to New England. In 1880, after seeing an advertisement in a religious journal, his parents enrolled him in a private boarding school in St. Johnsbury, Vermont, a charming New England village located at the juncture of the Connecticut and Passumpsic rivers. The village, St. Johnsbury Academy proudly pointed out, was "widely known for the intelligence, public spirit and high-toned morality of its people." In fact, the academy boasted, St. Johnsbury was perfectly located: "Temptations are comparatively few, and incentives to culture are many and strong."
Russell was brought up in a Christian Evangelical household; his grandfather was a Baptist preacher; his father the Sunday school superintendent and one of the leading officials in Iowa's Young Men's Christian Association. They were all temperance advocates, and his father was reputed to have never tasted alcohol in his life. But the piety of St. Johnsbury Academy—whose 1881 catalogue points out that "good manners and morals are as important as mere intellectual acquisition"—was too much for the cutup from Davenport to take. After listening to the often ribald tales of the tramp printers at his father's newspaper, Russell, nineteen years old, was probably more than ready to leave the oppressive religiosity of his household, looking, as all young people do, to make his own way. In going to St. Johnsbury, however, he simply had gone from one pew to another.
Founded in 1842, St. Johnsbury Academy was a coeducational preparatory school, essentially a four-year high school to prepare students for college; it cost the Russells about $500—for room, board, and tuition—to send Charles Edward there for two years. Tuition was relatively low because, unknown to the Russells, the town's leading family, the Fairbankses, had just endowed the academy with a $100,000 gift. Russell was eventually impressed by the school's academic life. "All the instructors were experts," he wrote after studying Latin, Greek, French, and German, all indispensable tools for the correspondent who eventually traveled the world. He took lessons in English grammar, British literature and history, European history, and political economy—a thorough and well-rounded course of study that helped make Russell an erudite adult.
One instructor, Wendell Phillips Stafford, who later became a federal judge, inspired in Russell a love of public speaking as he guided his student to many of the famous speeches of Wendell Phillips (no relation to the teacher), who, as a reformer and orator, was a prominent abolitionist and outspoken foe of Andrew Johnson. Russell especially admired a speech in which Phillips said that a man's possessions were of no value unless they were used for the common good. Russell never forgot Phillips; in 1914 he wrote an admiring biography of the man he called "the greatest of Americans." So smitten was Russell with the idea of public speaking that he made his first appearance on a stage in Peacham, Vermont, on February 3, 1881, giving a talk on "Free Trade vs. Protection." He supported free trade because protection of American commerce with such things as an import tariff "is the very essence of all things unjust and wrong." He equated free trade with freedom of the press and freedom of conscience; protection, he argued, was akin to slavery. Luckily, Russell later wrote, no record was kept of his speech because "my private conviction is that it was fairly bad."
Occasional excitement about ideas, however, could not make up for the insufferable discipline and rules of behavior that so rankled Russell. He disagreed with the maxims expressed in the academy's student guidebook which noted: "The rules of the school are not arbitrary or unnecessarily strict, but simply sufficient to protect pupils in the proper disposal of their time [and] to guard against temptations." All students were required to attend a church and Bible service each Sunday and then sign a card on Monday assuring the principal that they had indeed attended. Morning prayers in chapel were also compulsory. At eight o'clock each evening, the academy bell rang, signaling that students could not leave their rooms. The school's dormitory was coed, but alas, Russell recalled, the sexes were separated by a solid wall of masonry, with the principal living on one side and his assistant on the other. "Either or both would have been sure to detect any outbreak of levity" or, worse, "an attempt to tunnel the wall," observed Russell.
At the occasional formal get-togethers for students, no dancing was allowed, nor was alcohol, tobacco, or card playing. At these affairs, however, the school's three hundred students would march past each other in what resembled a military review. Russell must have liked something he saw at one of these affairs because one Abby Osborne Rust, the editor of the newly established school newspaper, caught his eye. Her father was the chief engineer for the Portland and Ogdensburg Railroad; the family resided in St. Johnsbury. In 1882, a year after graduating, Russell returned to St. Johnsbury as a not-so-disinterested observer of commencement exercises at which Abby delivered the class essay. In March 1884, Russell and Miss Rust were married.
Despite finding a romantic interest, Russell was appalled by the atmosphere in St. Johnsbury. "The whole thing reeked with piety; aggressive, militant, grim, implacable," he commented. "It oozed from every pore of the buildings and projected through the crannies of doors and windows." Since he felt that he was receiving a good education, Russell did not want to flee St. Johnsbury. Nonetheless, he wrote, "smug religious formalism drove me into violent revolt" and "my soul longed for a protest." His outlet was found in the discovery of Robert G. Ingersoll, lawyer, lecturer, and agnostic. One of the most popular lecturers in America in the late nineteenth century, Ingersoll had made a name for himself, not only as a defense attorney in some celebrated trials but as a public speaker who used seemingly scientific arguments to attack the "superstitions" of the Bible and the beliefs of Christianity, thus earning the nickname "the great agnostic." Reformers such as Brand Whitlock and Tom L. Johnson, along with Russell, later said that Ingersoll had inspired them also. An Ingersoll biographer points out, "In teaching men to question the dogmas of religious faith, he taught them to question other dogmas also," but especially the gospel of wealth which was, in part, the rationale behind the rise of nineteenth-century American capitalists. Using clippings of articles from the Chicago Tribune, Russell began to follow—and embrace—Ingersoll's exhortations. On Sunday afternoons, in a room in a house at the top of Western Avenue, he gathered a few similarly dissatisfied and yearning souls, and read to them from Ingersoll. If only the Reverend Rutledge could see his grandson preaching such a contrary gospel.
This room on Western Avenue, where Russell was a boarder with two or three other students, enabled him to escape the piety of the St. Johnsbury campus for part of the day at least, but it did not free him from the other nettling part of life in St. Johnsbury. The house he lived in sat on a hill that overlooked the E & T Fairbanks factory, which employed hundreds of the town's residents. The Fairbankses were one of the most famous families in Vermont history, the family that started, paid the bills, and handsomely endowed St. Johnsbury Academy; the family that gave the town a library, an art gallery, a natural history museum, and two governors. In short, the Fairbankses were the patron saints and benefactors of St. Johnsbury. About the people of St. Johnsbury, Russell eventually concluded: "Under their frozen exterior no other people were more kindly, friendly, neighborly, and good to know." But regarding the Fairbanks family, Russell was filled with nothing but contempt. "In plain terms, the town was a barony, and so far as autocratic rule was concerned, reproduced neatly the status of a Rhine village in the Middle Ages," he charged. The Fairbanks family were the barons and, to Russell, the enemy.
Russell was not far from the truth about who ran St. Johnsbury. The academy, for example, began in earnest when three brothers, Erastus, Thaddeus, and Joseph P. Fairbanks, used money they had made in their scale factory to purchase property and begin construction. For its first forty years, the Fairbanks paid all the bills of the academy; in 1881 they gave $100,000 for construction of a new building; and in 1881 they set up a permanent endowment of $100,000. Consequently, one of their heirs always headed the board of directors. To some, it might seem, the Fairbanks boys were models of American progress. Thaddeus, who had begun a small iron foundry in 1823, patented a series of inventions—a plow, a parlor stove, a flax machine—that first attracted attention to the Fairbanks name. In 1831 he developed the idea for a scale, the first of its kind, that could be used to weigh carts loaded with hemp. Thereafter, the Fairbanks Company manufactured scales (it had thirty-two patents on scales alone), became known worldwide, and earned a considerable fortune for the brothers. Part of their success was due to the business acumen of Joseph, who had studied law and traveled widely to sell the Fairbanks scales. Erastus, the oldest of the three brothers, was the public man—the firm's chief executive, whose energetic management helped double sales volume every three years leading up to the Civil War, and then, as Vermont governor for two terms, until 1864, successfully pushed for a law that prohibited alcohol. He also helped found the national Republican Party. Ironically, he had much in common with Charles's father Edward, a teetotaler and founder of the Iowa GOP. Erastus died in 1864, after which he became revered and legendary around St. Johnsbury. So why did the Fairbanks family so upset the upstart from the Midwest? Didn't he expect that the people of a company town would bow down to the benevolent owners of the company? Did he believe for a moment that, with hundreds of jobs at stake, they would bite the hand that was feeding them? Writing about his St. Johnsbury experience fifty years later, Russell explained his anger. It was simple: the Fairbanks family pointed out "the problem of Accumulated Wealth, the persistence of autocracy in a professed republic." Yes, Russell understood the arguments made about how the Fairbankses personified the American Dream. These were good, God-fearing, hardworking, creative men; the wealth they made would trickle down to the rest of the population; they deserved power because they owned the factory that gave work to so many local residents. But no, Russell couldn't embrace the "accepted theories about Trickle and Filter and the beneficent giving of work to men."
He then used a tried-and-true journalistic formula for explaining how he had reached this conclusion—find a person whose situation is typical of others. This is known as a "feature" approach and is one way of giving a large, unmanageable story a focus by boiling it down and providing it with human interest. Russell became very good at this in his magazine writing after the turn of the century, and he had the journalistic instinct, even in 1881. His focus was one Jim Dow, a man he had encountered in St. Johnsbury who challenged the myth of the Fairbankses' greatness. Dow, who lived with Russell in the Eastman boarding house, was a thoughtful, decent, and well-read worker at the Fairbanks factory. His craftsmanship, Russell said, was an indispensable link in the making of the Fairbankses' scales; Dow's labor—and that of all those like him—made him as important as any Fairbanks at the top of the pecking order. Without the skilled workers, there would be no lucrative scale business. And yet, Dow received a pittance for a wage, not enough even to clothe himself decently, not enough, he told Russell, to allow him to marry and support a family. To Russell's amazement, Dow was not bitter, just resigned to the way things were: Fairbanks at the top, workers at the bottom. "He gave his skill, knowledge, careful attention, labor, but nobody gave him anything," Russell wrote. The "Accumulated Wealth and Power" of the Fairbanks family might have given St. Johnsbury a beautiful library, with wonderful paintings, but it did little for workers like Dow, Russell charged. The feature approach was convenient for Russell to use to justify his anger at the Fairbanks. Written in his 1933 autobiography, it was a typical rhetoric from a man who had harangued great wealth throughout his career and who had grown to believe that the government, not private persons, should own the means of production. Some historians had come to believe that the great industrialists of America were robber barons who, like Rockefeller, had bribed their way to monopoly and then held workers captive to keep their profits high. Yet there is no indication that the Fairbankses were of the same ilk, say, as Rockefeller or Vanderbilt. They paid decent wages, were never tarnished by any allegations about their business practices, and they gave much of their considerable wealth back to the town of St. Johnsbury. Paternal, perhaps; pious, certainly; but not corrupt.
Along with Robert Ingersoll, something else had gotten into Russell's rebellious young mind that inflamed his passions against the Fairbankses. One day in March 1881 Russell wandered into St. Johnsbury's public library—a gift to the town from the Fairbankses—and began to read the Atlantic Monthly magazine, which was then publishing Henry Demarest Lloyd's articles attacking the Standard Oil Corporation and exposing the methods used to build the great oil monopoly. As he began to read what became a best-selling book, Wealth Against Commonwealth, Russell said he was "swept by an increasing and irresistible interest." When he finished, Russell knew what he had only sensed before: "this industrial development of which we had been so proud was a source, not of strength, but of fatal weakness." What some called "great business enterprise" was "no more than greed preying upon need." Lloyd, of course, was talking about John D. Rockefeller's company, but Russell substituted in his mind the local captains of industry—the Fairbankses, those unelected rulers of St. Johnsbury who threatened true democracy. "In the West we knew that some men were richer than others," Russell observed, "but had any one of the richer assumed dictatorial powers because of his wealth he would have been torn out of his estate." In St. Johnsbury, on the contrary, the Fairbankses were put on pedestals and revered.
Graham Newell, who lived in St. Johnsbury most of his life, who graduated from and taught at the academy and who knew Russell in his later years, conceded that "everyone in town always knew that most of what we had came from the largesse of the Fairbanks family. But we never resented it. It seemed good for us and the town." Newell, who became familiar with Russell's work, said that he and others have tried to figure out why Russell bore such a grudge. "It is hard to tell just what his big gripe with St. Johnsbury was," commented Claire Johnson, who has written a history about the town. Newell may have hit upon the answer, however. "Russell was what today we might call a hippie," Newell said. "He had this youthful antipathy to authority." It could be seen in his attraction to Ingersoll, whose preaching challenged the dogma of Russell's parents and of the authority of the powers-that-be at the academy. Moreover, Ingersoll's suggestion that accumulated wealth was not a natural by-product of goodness and ingenuity fit perfectly into Russell's growing anger at the powerful Fairbankses who controlled St. Johnsbury. Add this to Lloyd's angry indictment of Rockefeller's monopoly, an indictment that roused an entire generation, and it was logical and natural for Russell to resent the Fairbankses as a power that would never be tolerated in the populist Midwest. After graduation, he couldn't wait to return to Iowa where old-fashioned democratic values prevailed. However, the naive prodigal son was in for a big surprise.
PART III: EDWARD RUSSELL IS DERAILED
Charles Edward Russell's return to Davenport must have been a mixed blessing. He had received a solid formal education at St. Johnsbury, but also, in Wendell Phillips and Henry Demarest Lloyd, he had discovered lifelong heroes. Consequently, he returned home fired up but also considerably changed. What must the household conversations have been like? Since, as Russell once noted, there is "an eternal proneness of the Englishman to jaw about politics and religion," things must have heated up considerably when Charles suggested that old Ingersoll might be on to something in criticizing the Bible. Politics more than likely found Charles and his father on similar wavelengths since, as Russell pointed out, in his family "opposition to the corporations was held to be the next great work after the destruction of slavery." Initially Russell resumed his job as the Gazette's telegraph editor, the position he held before leaving for Vermont. His mind was on other political matters, however, as he became consumed with the issue of foreign trade and its effect on American commerce, especially its effect on the farmers of Iowa. He looked around at his neighbors, including his mother's cousin, John W. Willis, who owned a farm south of Davenport, and saw that "for all their toil, skill, care, fortitude, and privations they had nothing to show except the bare fact of an existence kept by a hand-to-hand fight against adversity."
Even though the Iowa soil was fertile, Russell knew the farmer's "grinding labor" produced less than that of a French peasant who tilled much less land. "Industry, sobriety, integrity, frugality, all the virtues be praised in song and story might work gloriously elsewhere but they broke down at the farm gate," Russell found. In 1882 the farmers of America were a dispirited and restless lot, not only in the Midwest, but in the South and the Far West where the strains of the Populist revolt were beginning to spread. Populists put the blame mostly on the currency, the "financial question," as it was called. They wanted changes in how money was created and on what basis it was circulated, which would in turn determine who shared in the fruits of production. To Russell and a growing group of Iowans, another financial issue was more important—the protective tariff. Russell believed that tariffs set by the government to protect manufacturers of articles in iron, steel, wood, and textiles, for example, shielded them from foreign competition and constituted, in essence, a tax on the consumer for the benefit of the producer. Farmers had no such protection.
Needing a flag to fly and a cause to rally around, the young Russell jumped into his first crusade. Along with a banker and two newspaper editors, Russell formed and became vice president of the Iowa State Free Trade League, a group that, he said, "roared, shouted, and bellowed and for a time drove the forces of evil back to their trenches." Russell's strident, almost demagogic, and perhaps sophomoric position on the tariff can be seen in a pamphlet issued by the Iowa State Leader, a newspaper published by the president of the fledgling free-trade group. He wrote that only "ignorance and stupidity" supported the tariff. "Every man too lazy to think, and every man too ignorant to read is a 'protectionist.'" Once he got beyond the sharp rhetoric, however, Russell also used facts, figures, and logical argument to denounce what he said amounted to "a system of legalized robbery." For Russell it all boiled down to this: the tariff allowed the few to profit while the many suffered. This, he wrote, "is a system of slavery. And no system of slavery shall ever receive my support." He signed the pamphlet "CHAS. E. RUSSELL." Russell's position, quite clearly, was a mirror of his St. Johnsbury political economy professor, Arthur Latham Perry, whose textbook labeled the tariff "public plunder... worthy only of the dark ages." Russell, in fact, repeated in the pamphlet, without attribution, Perry's assertion that only two or three economists in America still believe in the worth of a protective tariff. Ingersoll, Lloyd, and now Professor Perry, all of whom Russell had encountered in the East, all attacking privilege and accumulated wealth, had followed him to the Mississippi. Since the Republican Party was the chief supporter of the tariff, Russell's arguments must have riled many of Iowa's Republicans. Nonetheless, his father's Republican newspaper, the Gazette, went along with young Russell's arguments and took a strong editorial stance against the tariff. Six years later the tariff question led Edward Russell to quit the Republican Party, which he had helped found in Iowa; in the presidential election of 1888 he voted for a Democrat for the first time, lamenting: "The fact is that Republican leaders... see only the interests of the speculative and money-getting crowd."
In October 1882, the Gazette reorganized its staff and Charles was temporarily named managing editor, the top editorial position. His father was only fifty-three years old, but he was suffering from overwork. A few years earlier his physician had ordered rest and sent him on a three-month holiday to England, his first return abroad. It is likely that the father wanted the son to be more involved in managing the growing newspaper, although Charles continued to be active also in free trade politics. In December he was re-elected as the Free Trade League's vice president, and in June 1883 he helped organize the first national Free Trade Conference in Detroit where Professor Perry gave one of the main addresses. With the newspaper and the Free Trade League seemingly prospering, Russell observed: "We might well think we had the enemy on the run."
The leading force behind the Free Trade League was its president, Henry J. Philpott, who edited the Des Moines Leader. After returning from Detroit, Philpott lost his job when the Leader changed ownership. Soon after, he started a weekly newspaper devoted to free trade principles, but Philpott contracted tuberculosis and died quickly. Dispirited, Russell turned his full attention back to the Gazette, where he was needed because his father had begun to engage with matters unrelated to newspapering.
After the Civil War, when the issue of slavery dissipated, Edward Russell turned to the large industrial combination as the next great oppressive force to be fought. "We are driven to choose between abject servitude to this monster of evil, or unequivocal resistance to its further spread," he declared. The protective tariff that Charles was fighting was one manifestation of this "monster"; the other was the railroad companies that, by 1870 or so, had become perhaps the dominant economic and political powers in America. As his son remembered it, the Gazette "thundered against railroad absolutism as probably the editor's ancestors had resisted Charles the First." In editorials Edward Russell blasted what he saw as the lawless, arbitrary manipulation of freight rates by the railroads, a fact of life that every Iowan understood. Because of Edward Russell's criticisms, one rail line refused to ship coal that the Gazette needed to run its steam-fired printing press, forcing Russell to use his ingenuity. He hired workers to mine a local coal deposit, giving him enough fuel to run his engine until, some weeks later, the railroad lifted the embargo.
Edward Russell believed that the answer to the problems presented by the railroads—rate discrimination, pooling of resources, and overcharges—was plain, old-fashioned competition. The solution that he and others sought was a competing water line, a canal, that would connect Lake Michigan to the Mississippi River and exit near Rock Island and Davenport. The 188-mile east - west line, which became known as the Hennepin Canal, would run parallel to and compete directly with the Chicago, Rock Island & Pacific Railroad line. Such a canal had been discussed for many years—a convention in 1845 endorsed the concept as did another in 1866. In 1870 a federal survey estimated that it would cost $12.5 million to build, and in 1872 President Grant asked Congress to investigate its construction. As far back as 1863, Russell's Gazette had begun to champion the canal cause as a cheap alternative to the railroads. Moreover, with Iowa's growing agricultural output, a secondary means of transportation was needed to supplement the railroads as well as to keep them honest.
Edward Russell went beyond just writing editorials. In 1881, when his son was in Vermont, he traveled to Washington, D.C. to make the case for the Hennepin Canal to the House of Representatives' River and Harbor Committee. In May 1881 he served as secretary to and helped organize a convention in Davenport at which four hundred representatives from seven different states gathered to urge that Congress pass an appropriation for the canal. The convention made two things clear: the canal was of national, not just local, importance, and support for the canal was increasing. Russell became a member of the Hennepin Canal Commission, which sent him and others to urge editorial writers from eastern newspapers to support its construction. In 1882, after nearly seven years of intense lobbying, Congress came through with a million-dollar appropriation, which was later cut to a mere $30,000 for an official survey of a canal route. The appropriation did insure the future of the Hennepin Canal.
"It was a victory that cost my father dear and in the end wrought a great change in his life," Charles Russell concluded, however. In 1882 the Gazette, which was not making a profit, was sold to M. M. Rutt, a lumber dealer from Atlantic, Iowa. Edward Russell left the editor's job, but was asked to return in a few months when Rutt found he could not handle the editorial side of the operation. When the company was reorganized, Edward Russell returned and took a minority block of shares in the newspaper. Meanwhile, the fight for construction money for the Hennepin Canal continued, with the railroad interests, in particular, opposing an appropriation. Statistics compiled by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers showed that when the rails had competition from a nearby water route, rail transportation costs for shippers were greatly reduced. Moreover, as a government agency pointed out, free waterways could "limit and restrain corporations." But that was exactly what the railroads did not want.
In 1884, as Congress debated the Hennepin Canal, Edward Russell returned to Washington to lobby again for a final construction appropriation. While in the Capitol, he received a telegram with shocking news: the man he had left in charge of the Gazette had been removed as editor, Edward Russell's name had been removed from the masthead, and the newspaper had been taken over by a company that had bought out Rutt's majority shares. "The railroad and corporation interests [were] in full control of the property," his son explained. "The railroads wished to be rid of the Gazette and its editor as the strongest champion of the canal and took the sure way to achieve that end." The Chicago, Rock Island & Pacific Railroad, through a dummy corporation, had taken over the newspaper. Edward Russell was out of a job... and so was his son.
Trying to determine whether the rail interests really did force out Edward Russell is difficult. Aside from the son's assertion, there is no corroboration. However, a number of factors make it believable. First, there is little doubt that 1884 was a key year in the fight against the Hennepin Canal. Lobbyists had gotten Congress to delete considerable money from the survey, but their next—and more important—challenge was to stifle money for construction. Edward Russell was loud in support of the canal, as well as a disquieting voice against growing railroad power. His obituary in the Davenport Democrat noted: "The name of no one man was more prominently identified with the movement known as the Hennepin canal." Describing him as the canal's key "agitator," the obituary said no one's "intensity of zeal" for the canal equaled Edward Russell's. Just as Andrew Johnson found it convenient and useful to get rid of this pesky voice in 1865, so would the railroad interests in 1884. Second, the rail interests were known for pushing their weight around. Rail growth in Iowa had been phenomenal throughout the 1870s, but by the early 1880s complaints against railroad business practices—and their habit of intervening in political matters to push their own interests—had become common. As one historian of Iowa's railroads notes, they were known for their "definite and serious mischiefs." As commissions to regulate their power were emerging in Iowa, for example, the railroads began to strike back when they could. Charles Russell cited a typical railroad tactic: a hardware storeowner in Davenport who supported the canal found that his freight rates inexplicably doubled one month. When he withdrew his support of the canal his rates returned to normal. When presented the opportunity to rid themselves of a vocal opponent, it is logical that the railroads would target Edward Russell.
Yet there are also reasons to question the story. One scholar believes that the canal would have actually helped the rails. Boats could more easily carry certain bulky parcels that were not profitable for the rails to transport, and the canal might actually bring more goods to points on the river where the rails would be the only available carrier. Beyond that, there were numerous other interests opposed to the canal, perhaps more so than the railroads. Finally, despite the crusading nature of his newspaper, it is possible that Edward Russell's Gazette was out of step with a new, emerging journalism, one less concerned with partisan politics. The Gazette had not been profitable under Russell, he had suffered some health setbacks, and he was stubborn and irascible. Would it not make sense to install a new editor? Whatever the answer to that question, the real point is that Charles Russell believed his father had been done in by a cabal of commercial power. Russell declared: "He had been sacrificed to the corporation interests that had attained to the arbitrary power he had long feared and tried to prevent."
Once out of a job, Charles Russell wasted little time in relocating. His goal was to prepare himself a bit more before seeking a job in New York City. He headed north to Minnesota, where eventually his parents and two aunts went to live. First, in the winter of 1884, he became an editorial writer on the St. Paul Pioneer Press; then in early 1885 he became night editor for the Minneapolis Tribune, the city's leading political newspaper, which had just moved into a new eight-story building. Its owner, A. B. Nettleton, was a staunch Republican disciple who advocated a variety of reform causes. Russell's reporting caused some consternation for one source, who thanked Russell for an article he had written but complained, "I did not expect that you war [sic] going to publish remarks that I let drop while I was in your room." He left the Tribune in 1886 to become managing editor of the Minneapolis Journal and then went to its sister publication, the Detroit Tribune. One observer noted that Russell was "quick to notice the pith and point of all matter coming before him, and a dull line very rarely escapes his critical eye." The editor of those newspapers, R. B. Gelatt, described Russell as "faithful, energetic, and able" and said that he was a "versatile and entertaining writer." In June 1886, as Russell prepared to leave the Midwest, Gelatt told Russell that he could understand why he would want to try the "wider field" offered in New York, adding, "Your management of our news departments has been sagacious, wide-awake, and economical, and the 'scoops' of our counterparts have been few." Gelatt concluded: "God bless you and good luck attend." Charles Edward Russell was off to pursue his dream of becoming a newspaperman in New York City.
CHAPTER THREE
HAYMARKET SQUARE TO LIZZIE BORDEN
I. EDUCATION ON MULBERRY STREET
WITH THIRTY-SEVEN DOLLARS IN HIS POCKET, the twenty-six-year-old Charles Edward Russell came to New York on June 17, 1886, finally reaching "the great city... the city of my dreams." Considering himself a "skilled practitioner of the art" of journalism, he fully expected to be welcomed with open arms into the New York journalism fraternity. His father wrote a letter of introduction to one of the most famous editors in America, Charles A. Dana of the New York Sun, noting that his son was "trained to journalism from boyhood [and] he has by good use of his education, varied experience and solid abilities attained fair repute already as a newspaper man." But New York was not Iowa. The son had entered a world—and a profession—he knew little about. He mistook Governor's Island for Blackwell Island and he could not locate the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge. New Yorkers seemed mean-spirited, the pace of life was grinding, the sights and smells were foreign, and the newspapers were different from what he knew in the Midwest. What began as a dream soon turned into "black despair." Later he recalled the "sense of isolation" that became "a stinging part of the sufferings laid upon me." His friend Scotty, the tramp printer, never said how overwhelming New York could be.
Manhattan Island, then as now, was the hub of all activity. Even though the city's newspapers devoted considerable attention to Brooklyn and Queens, these outer boroughs didn't combine with New York until 1898. Manhattan was the city, and like the rest of America, it was truly a land of contrasts. The population was growing quickly as thousands of immigrants flooded neighborhoods, creating both opportunities and problems. While mansions lined Fifth Avenue and commerce flourished on Wall Street and on the bustling docks, filthy tenements and crime also dominated much of Manhattan. It was a tough, expensive city that had little in common with Davenport or Detroit. "A dollar in New York hardly seemed to last so long as a quarter in Detroit," he commented. As for the people, "Everybody with whom I came in contact seemed to take pains to be disagreeable," Russell said.
Nonetheless, since Manhattan alone had fifteen dailies, Russell was confident a young reporter could easily find work. Did he want to work at one of the newspapers geared to a highbrow audience, to "gentlemen and scholars"? Or would he find more comfort in Joseph Pulitzer-style journalism wherein sensationalism and crusading sought to capture "the people?"
Russell knew the choices well. The New York newspapers, identified by their dynamic owners or editors, were famous throughout the country. James Gordon Bennett's New York Herald, his first choice, was the most famous—or infamous. Taking over the newspaper in the 1830s and lowering its price to one cent, Bennett created a new genre: the penny press, a newspaper whose reporters went places, covered things, and wrote in ways that no one else had. James Gordon Bennett Jr., who took over for his father by 1886, kept the paper lively, although certainly its quality was declining when Russell came to New York. The Sun was the place where many ambitious Midwest youths wanted to work under Dana, who was old and conservative but still formidable. For example, Indiana-born David Graham Phillips, who became Russell's good friend and eventual muckraking colleague, worked in Cincinnati and then came to the Sun because it was a writer's paper.
The New York Tribune, the New York Post, and the New York Times were similar newspapers—respectable organs of politics and refinement. Edited by E. L. Godkin, the Post was liberal but rather dull. Godkin, wanting little color, tried to keep crime news out of his paper. Equally dull was the Tribune, where Whitelaw Reid offered a Republican voice to counter Godkin. The Times, respected since Henry Raymond founded it in 1869, had helped smash "Boss" Tweed in the 1870s, but it was steadily going downhill, buffeted, as were all the newspapers, by the "personal journalism" of Pulitzer. Coming from St. Louis in 1883, he bought and revitalized the New York World. In the process, Joseph Pulitzer transformed the American press with journalism that combined sensation, reportage, political acumen, and marketing. Russell was fresh and eager, with five years of full-time newspapering behind him, but would anyone want him?
At the Herald he climbed three flights of stairs to reach a vestibule, rang a bell to get the attention of the newsroom, and gave his card to a young boy who asked him, "Well, whadda youse want?" The boy disappeared, then returned with a discomfiting answer: "City editor says he regrets t'say there's no vacancy." Undeterred, Russell journeyed, in succession, to the World, the Sun, the Tribune, all morning newspapers, only to get the same answer: there were no reporting jobs. Finally, the city editor of the Commercial Advertiser, a staid paper published in a ramshackle building, greeted Russell with bad news—in the summertime reporters only got fired, not hired. After failing to even get an interview at any of the city's daily newspapers, Russell was disconsolate. He concluded: "I was a failure."
Broke and worried, Russell turned to freelance writing to survive, working each evening on sketches, stories, poems, and even—to his dismay—puns. His income was sparse, but his output was prodigious. Moreover, Russell began to get an education about life in New York. Its people, who at first seemed so foreign and cold, became more curious as, with a reporter's careful eye, he discovered the characters who lurked around, for example, the famous central Manhattan thoroughfare, Broadway. He labeled them "Broadway oddities"—the jolly old German who sold rubber birds, the disheveled peddler thrusting newspapers in people's faces, the Italian kids who hung around Trinity Church, the silver-haired little man with blue cape and queer hat, just returned from missionary work in India, and the detectives who watched them all, looking, he wrote, "to see what notorious criminals move in the swim."
Hustling for stories forced Russell into some strange encounters. On the ferry to Hoboken, New Jersey, he ran into "a queer old colored man with a shuffling gait, [wearing] scanty white wool, [with] one eye bulged like a knot on a tree, [and] long skinny fingers." "Do you know who that is?" a ferry employee whispered to Russell. "That's a negro doctor... one of them things they call Voodoos." He cuts the heart out of black chickens, makes potions and powders, and then scares his patients into believing anything he wants, Russell reported. Then there was the old gravedigger from Queens, a "pleasant, companionable, philosophical fellow" who had dug 2,052 graves and could identify every one. Russell got the man to talk—"won my way to his heart," he bragged—by filling his pipe and offering a light. Digging graves was "simply a matter of business," he said. "We've got to be like doctors, coroners, policemen, and newspaper reporters."
Since Manhattan was too expensive, Russell took an apartment in Brooklyn with his friend Nelson Hirsh, who had come with him from Detroit. The move was fortuitous: they found a sympathetic landlady who let the duo slide on rent payments until they could make ends meet; and Brooklyn proved to be fertile reporting ground. He found a group of garrulous women who raised birds, and another group which met weekly to play poker. The Brooklyn Eagle printed the stories. On a more serious note, he found dozens of households in Brooklyn where women, living alone and fearful of thieves, "huddled with terror if they hear a doorknob turned or a footstep." Russell interviewed a police sergeant, who, in a long tedious quotation, explained how the police investigate such burglaries. The Eagle again printed the story with a tagline at the end, "C. E. R." For some reason, Russell instinctively relied on police detectives for many of his early stories. He liked to sit with the detectives—who a few years later would become his best sources—and induce them to spin yarns, which he then turned into feature articles. When a millionaire's wife was murdered, Russell used the homicide as an excuse to get veteran city detectives to talk about the "wonderful crimes" they did and didn't solve. Readers must have wondered why Russell bothered with these stories. The answer was that he needed the money.
Detectives also led Russell into New York's mysterious underworld. One evening he followed a detective along a narrow street near the Brooklyn docks, through a dirty alley and down a flight of rickety stairs. "Did you ever see a 'barrel house'?" the detective asked. "Never? Come with me then, if you care to find out." In a technique Russell perfected in his muckraking magazine writing after the turn of the century, Russell led the reader on a fascinating tour of a dark and smoky tavern where drunken men smoked foul pipes, imbibed cheap liquor, and ended up clawing each other. The detail and dialogue gave New Yorkers an intimate look at one of the city's most horrid dives, far worse than what Russell had seen along the Mississippi River. Equally frightening in a different way was a night Russell spent in deserted lower Manhattan in the wee hours of the morning as two men in white linens stood at the gates of Bellevue Hospital and greeted a cab that delivered a fashionably attired young man. As they opened the door, the man exited, fell to the ground, and then yelled, "Take it away! Don't you see it. It's going to bite me. There's two of them now." The man shivered on the ground as the men in white led him to the public hospital where he was a regular visitor, a victim of too much booze. The man was tied to a bed with handcuffs, after which a soothing dram was poured into his mouth. Finally, he stopped yelling and slept. "How many alcoholic patients have you had in here to-night?" he asked. "That makes thirteen... a fair night's work." Russell then pumped the attendants for detailed—much too detailed, in fact—information about the kinds of patients the hospital got, until suddenly an electric signal rang and they ran to the gates again to retrieve a bloodied man who had been run over by a beer wagon. The sun was rising as "another day of ghastly experience began at Bellevue Hospital," Russell concluded.
Even though Russell was having some luck placing stories—including sending pieces about New York back to Detroit and Minneapolis—he was making barely enough money to get by, a fact which influenced his view of the world and his style of journalism. To earn enough money just to survive, Russell realized that he would need to find any excuse possible to come up with stories—potboilers, they were called—and he would need to write those stories at great length. A glimpse at the variety of stories he covered can be seen from an 1886 journal, which noted his paltry pay: January 2, dishonest clerks, $4; January 8, women marketing, Judge Poland, leprosy, labor ministry, $12.25; January 9, fountains, $5.50; January 16, poker players, $4.80; January 22, detectives, $5.44. For all of January he earned $32.79; in February he made $20.92. In the 1880s, reporters were paid mostly on space rates—the more they wrote, the more they got paid. Consequently, some of his stories were long but downright foolish—a Brooklyn cat that danced to music; a family that chewed gum all day; a Bowery museum where snakes got baths; competitive beer drinking. He wrote forty inches (more than two columns) about how women behaved at the market, and he devoted twenty-six inches to describing stomachaches. And yet he proved himself remarkably nimble as a writer. Whether the source of his story was "the old landlady" or a "merry, round-faced, little old maid," he was consistently interesting as he let New Yorkers, in cracker-barrel fashion, tell their stories. Russell also fancied himself a murder mystery writer—a fancy that served him well a few years later when he wrote about gruesome New York City killings. He churned out stories on a sensational homicide in Arkansas, on the famous Johnny Woods murder back in LeClaire, Iowa, and, inexplicably, on an 1816 killing in a small German university town. He even wrote a ghost story, set in Canada, complete with a haunted house and wild tales of thievery, a piece that seemed more like fiction than journalism. In fact, it might have been fiction—at least partly. Critics of journalism were increasingly carping at the tendency of reporters in the 1880s to embrace "stories" over issues and facts. The Post's Godkin, for example, complained that the number of "honest, painstaking, scrupulous, and accurate men employed as reporters and correspondents" was lower than it should be because people were not encouraged to be honest and accurate. More important today, he lamented, is "spiciness and enterprise."
Russell demonstrated both of those characteristics. His story about a doctor who fell in love with his leprosy-infected patient—"they lived in each other's arms"—befitted the sensationalism of an 1890s "yellow journal." So, too, did his story of a pretty woman with a "finely tuned form" who while having an affair discovered her husband in an adjacent room where he too was fooling around. And yet there is evidence also of an enterprise and responsibility in his work. He carefully documented with statistics the growth of drug and grocery stores, for example. In another story, showing how some things never change, he described how women abused by their husbands had their spouses arrested, then bailed them out, only to wind up again back in court, abused once more. This alternating pattern—sensationalism and human interest balanced with enterprise and responsibility—would mark the rest of Russell's career in journalism. He could play to the crowd and he could deal with substance.
Being without a full-time job continued to haunt Russell. "I had often heard about men that were said to be 'out of work,' but until this experience," Russell said, "I had never sensed any part of the true meaning of the phrase." Describing himself as terrified and humiliated, Russell hung around in coffeehouses and free luncheon bars, observing a stream of idle men. Why, he asked himself, are there so many men who are idle when there is so much work to be done? He was actually reduced at one point to having twelve cents in his pocket when a check arrived from Detroit, allowing him and Hirsh to chow down their cheap but filling staple—beef and beans. One afternoon, sitting near the southern tip of Manhattan Island, Russell contemplated giving up his pursuit of work in New York. Hirsh, sour on journalism, had already done so, taking a job as a letter carrier. Russell thought he might just follow in Scotty's footsteps and ride the rails back out West. By chance, the next day, he met the one man he knew in New York newspaper circles who alerted him to a job at the Commercial Advertiser, an evening paper, started in 1793, a steadfast Republican organ with a circulation of only twenty-five hundred. Lincoln Steffens, who later became one of its editors, said the newspaper "looked like a wretched old street walker" and acted like a "used-up, ex-'good' governor." Russell didn't care what kind of newspaper it was; he needed work, going the next day to the office at daybreak before the janitor even opened the building. He sat in the newsroom when the editor arrived; twenty minutes later he was hired, informed that the space rate was only $4.32. Even worse, he learned, if a Commercial Advertiser reporter went on an assignment and no story resulted, there would be no pay at all.
"Many a gallant spirit has gone down in a brave but futile attempt to fill those columns," Russell commented about the Commercial Advertiser's pay scale. In the end, two things made the experience bearable for Russell—first, the editor was the estimable writer George Cary Eggleston, and, second, he was given a choice assignment to cover the Jefferson Market Courthouse.
Explaining why the forty-six-year-old Eggleston was at the Commercial Advertiser is difficult. After being reared on an aristocratic Virginia plantation, he had written critically acclaimed boys' stories, a novel, and his charming autobiography, A Rebel's Recollections. After a brief stint as a reporter, he was the literary editor of the Post before becoming editor-in-chief for the Advertiser at which he assembled a first-class staff and made the paper pay dividends by his third year. Said Eggleston: "I enjoyed my work as I suppose a man condemned to death enjoys the work of writing his confessions." What delighted him most though was in finding "cubs fresh from college" who he tutored, helping them "discover their untried abilities."
Russell's chance for such discovery came on his first assignment—covering police court, which he thought meant sitting at a table, listening to dignified court proceedings, taking notes, and then writing lucid stories. Instead, he encountered the bedlam of New York's judiciary and the byproducts of its stinking slums. In most of the cases, a magistrate mumbled sotto voce and quickly as a line of miserables passed in front of his bench. Reporters crowded near the judge to hear if anything interesting might be occurring. Usually, he wrote, it went this way:
Judge: S'lmnly swear aff'davit by you scribed 's true s' help y' God what about this case?
Prosecutor: Solicitin' on the street.
Judge: Officer says y' were soliciting what'v you got to say?
Defendant: Nothing.
Judge: Ten dollars.
With the case dismissed, out on the street went the prostitute. Russell was puzzled that so many of these women reappeared each day in court. The punishment never deterred them, "and the whole thing seemed exceedingly futile and foolish." Day after day he watched as prostitutes, petty thieves, landlords, young toughs, vagrants, and saloonkeepers entered court. Their stories were rich commentary on the travails of life in New York City.
Russell was putting in ten- to twelve-hour days producing stories for the paper's two editions. But he found time to further his education by wandering the Lower East Side of Manhattan, from Mulberry Street across the Bowery to the East River, and learning intimately about slum life. He was shocked, commenting, "I began to see that poverty was the condition of the majority of the people, with areas and depths of which I had never dreamed." He noted the filth, the smells, the lack of ventilation and sunlight, the numbers of people, speaking so many languages, crowded into so few rooms. The real surprise was that "not all the dwellers in that frightful region turned savage," Russell said. "It seemed glorious that any good survived." The real lesson, however, was the effect the reporting had on his view of environment. Virtually all the people and cases that spilled into court were caused by the slums of New York, he came to believe. Society is so desperate to lock up people, but no one ever asks about the conditions that produce the problems. What did society expect from gang leader Danny Driscoll, whom Russell covered many times in court? He grew up in the tenements of tenement-bred parents, he lived by his guile on the streets, took a mistress when he was a teenager, went to the penitentiary, and then returned to the streets. Finally, on June 24, 1886, after making the rounds of the saloons, Driscoll got into a scrape at a bawdyhouse where his girl, Bezie, was in the midst of an argument. Driscoll shot her by mistake; she died. Two years later, Driscoll was hanged at the Tombs prison. "We had made him what he was," Russell wrote years later. "So we took our finished product and choked the life out of it and believed we had done a good job—some of us." What a "colossal irony," Russell complained. "Hanging the victims of that machinery instead of abolishing the machine."
Adding to his frustrations were the limitations he began to see in reporting. The city editor assigned Russell to keep lookout for a potential train strike in Manhattan. As he sat watch, he observed a mother washing clothes in a tub of water at the top of a tenement stairway. She kept an eye on her children below, trying to ensure that they did not get hit by passing trains. "How can people live in this way?" Russell asked. Their life seemed so bleak, and when no strike materialized, Russell asked to write about the family. The city editor squelched the idea—no news in poverty. Russell wrote no story, received no pay, and lost forty cents from his train ride.
When a train strike did occur in Manhattan, the editor asked Russell to produce the names and addresses of the leaders of the strike whom the paper intended to criticize. Russell visited with the wife of one of the men, a kindly and intelligent woman who explained about her husband's paltry wages. Russell sympathized, and he refused to produce the names the editor wanted. He identified with the strikers (although he did not say so) and not the owners, which was no surprise. He knew it was time to find another newspaper. Editor Eggleston had "personal magnetism, tact, good nature, and sympathy," but his newspaper, nonetheless, had served its purpose. "The only education I ever had that amounted to anything," Russell observed years later, "was when I was a police reporter on the East Side of New York. One could learn there more about life as it really was than in any formal school of cloisters and dons that ever existed." But he was ready to move on.
II. A WITNESS TO EXECUTIONS
By 1887 New York journalism was headed in a new direction as a powerful force took the city by storm. That force was Joseph Pulitzer, a brilliant and eccentric Hungarian immigrant, hungry to influence politics and make a fortune. He made his mark in various ways—championing the causes of immigrants, unabashedly crusading for the underdog, muckraking the rich and famous, and leading public opinion with astute commentary on public policies. In order to do this, however, he needed the best and the brightest talent in New York.
Understanding his grace and intelligence, for example, Pulitzer stole Eggleston from the Commercial Advertiser and made him an editorial writer. Russell probably should have heeded Eggleston, who had found that daily journalism made him "worn, weary, and inexpressibly oppressed." Think of what it means, the sensitive Eggleston said, "to toil all day in the making of a newspaper, and to feel, when all is done that the result is utterly inadequate." And to be broke at the same time, Eggleston should have noted. Pulitzer had the remedy, however: he offered Eggleston and Russell more money to join the World. The trade-off, of course, was anonymity. Virtually no one on the World was allowed to sign an article. It was Pulitzer's newspaper.
This anonymity makes tracing Russell's work difficult. He discusses only a few reporting incidents in his two years under Pulitzer, but one is worth exploring. He was a witness to the events that led up to the hanging of the four men, all political radicals, who were convicted of conspiracy in throwing a bomb in the famous Haymarket Square riot in Chicago on May 4, 1886. After the incident, Russell conducted his own careful investigation into what was one of the cataclysmic American events of the late 1800s that led to America's first "red scare."
Before the Haymarket affair, Russell had witnessed his first execution in Iowa, and he blamed himself for allowing it to happen. In the summer of 1883, Davenport was in the midst of its quietest time. News consisted of births, deaths, traveling salesmen arriving at hotels, and an occasional drunken sailor. "Nobody did anything except to eat and sleep," Russell complained. And then a murder occurred at the Heilwagner farm, eleven miles north of Davenport. When Otto Heilwagner's wife disappeared, her father-in-law, William, alone at the farm with her and known to dislike her wild ways, was accused. At his trial the Bavarian immigrant made no attempt to defend himself, answering in monosyllables, seemingly unaware of what was going on. He declared his innocence, but offered no evidence. He was convicted and sentenced to hang.
Russell, at first, looked at the case "with professional impartiality," but something about Heilwagner's demeanor convinced him of the man's innocence. He went to the Heilwagner's cell and tried to get details that might break the case. All the man would say was, "I just go weed my onions." The murder was committed in August; Heilwagner was hanged in March. His final words: "Gentlemen, I am innocent of this crime." Ten years later, the words rang true when the son, Otto, committed suicide and left a note confessing to his unfaithful wife's murder. The father had known all along and protected the son. "It was a rugged introduction for a novice to the business of crime detecting and legalized life-taking," Russell said after the first of eleven executions he witnessed in his career. The hanging "sickened" Russell and turned him into a lifelong opponent of capital punishment. Moreover, he felt, "If I had been expert at my trade I might have saved that man." Russell's next experience with execution came four years later. The World sent him as its correspondent to Chicago, probably because as an Iowa native he was familiar with the Midwest city. Like New York, Chicago teemed with commerce and urban squalor. But while New York was a shipping center, the Lake City was a rail hub for farm products and livestock to be shipped to the rest of the nation. Chicago was also a city with thousands of industrial workers, who, treated poorly by the owners, were beginning both to rebel and organize. In fact, the decade of the 1880s was witness to one of great labor disturbances in America. The workers were upset by the growth of a small, immensely wealthy class, by the inadequacy of wages to pay for the cost of living, and by the owners' utter contempt for workers' rights, whether for an eight-hour day or for compensation for injuries or death on the job. To put it mildly, workers were restive and discontented; increasingly they listened when propagandists urged new forms of political organization—as well as methods other than the ballot box for achieving those ends.
Russell encountered such a propagandist on the lakefront in Chicago one Sunday afternoon. A shabby, gaunt man with a mellow voice, Albert Parsons, the editor of a fiery labor journal, stood before a small and unenthusiastic crowd, denouncing the rich and advocating, in rather abstract terms, some sort of social revolution. Russell looked fondly at Parsons, not because of his rhetoric, but because on numerous occasions Parsons had protected reporters from angry crowds. "The reporters were often in great danger," Russell pointed out. "The feeling was bitter against the whole 'capitalistic press.'" Chicago was a city awash in ideological conflict: labor versus management; workers versus police; capitalists versus an amalgam of socialists and anarchists.
It is no surprise that radicals saw Russell's newspaper, the World, as enemy. Even Russell later admitted that he and the rest of the press corps knew little about the differences between socialism, anarchism, and communism. He comically recalled that each time there was a threat of labor violence while he was a reporter in New York, he would be asked immediately to find dangerous socialists. Reporters always went to one German immigrant who lived in lower Manhattan. Asked about political violence, he responded with a rambling harangue, but argued forcefully for a society in which, as Russell understood it, "there would be no law, no government, no system and no work."
"And that is what you call Socialism?" asked Russell, naively.
"Socialismus? Sociliasmus? Ach, mein Gott, nein! Es ist die Anarchie!" the German exploded.
"Oh, well," replied the reporters, "same thing." Socialism and anarchism were "interchangeable terms" for reporters, Russell said. Probably, in 1887, when he still considered himself a Republican, Russell didn't know the difference. He had read literature, history, and political economy, but there is no indication that he knew Marx or had studied anarchists such as Bakunin or Proudhon. "It was true," he admitted years later, "I had never read Das Kapital and could not have told Karl Marx from Frederick Engels if I had met them walking arm in arm up the street." Of course that was also typical of most American rebels of the time; their rebellion tended to be more homegrown than imported. But certain questions being raised in radical circles must have caught Russell's attention in Chicago. Was private property, as anarchists argued, truly the enemy? Was a social revolution to destroy the existing order necessary? Most importantly, would violence be needed in order to topple the capitalist system? Russell had no answers in 1887, and so he took more to observing the events and people who were framing the questions. He was, after all, just a reporter. "In this business," he noted, "you have very little call to determine why things happen. About all you can attend to competently is the happening."
The Haymarket riot shocked the nation. As a crowd of about 1,500 listened on May 4 to speeches—including one from Parsons—in support of an eight-hour day, 180 policemen arrived and ordered the group to disband. With no warning, a dynamite bomb was hurled from the crowd toward the police and exploded. Seven policemen were killed and seventy were wounded. Russell, who was in New York when the incident occurred, recalled that "rage and blind passion seized a great part of the population." In a recap of the affair for the World, he wrote: "So all at once the city woke up to the danger that had been growing up in it for years. The people saw with terror that a dozen resolute men with dynamite bombs could blow up a dozen buildings and hundreds of persons in an instant. There was nothing too energetic that could be done for the protection of the city then. The police went to work with an ardor." The press and public opinion quickly blamed the radical anarchists and socialists of Chicago. The police, in a fury, put out a dragnet, developed a theory of conspiracy, and arrested seven men, including Parsons. Four were eventually hanged.
It cannot be determined with certainty when Russell arrived in Chicago. In an autobiographical note, he said, simply, "covered the Anarchist troubles in Chicago for the World." In a 1908 magazine article and in an identical chapter in a 1914 autobiography, he wrote in detail about the incident. A few things can be concluded from these accounts. First, he carefully studied the crime, investigation, and trial and reached conclusions that are very similar to historian Henry David, who in 1936, after an exhaustive investigation, decided that none of the alleged conspirators actually threw the bomb. David wrote, "On the basis of the reliable evidence, they must be considered innocent." After his investigation, Russell wrote: "The eight men were convicted, nominally by the jury, in reality by a misinformed public opinion resolutely bent upon having a hanging. Anything more like a lynching I have never known.... Blood was to have blood; I grieve to state there was but little consideration as to whose blood." What is also clear, however, is that Russell never wrote anything at the time of the incident that showed his sympathies, which is odd. His memoirs paint a sympathetic portrait of some of the accused Haymarket bomb throwers who he visited regularly in prison as they awaited execution. About Parsons, he wrote, "I conceived a strong liking"; he was a "genial and attractive companion." Russell said he wasn't even sure Parsons believed in the violence he seemed to advocate. Yet, the day after his hanging, when he recapped the events, Russell painted Parsons as a wild-eyed terrorist whose "harangues" were bent on violence. Russell's reportage was caught up in the fervor of the times, and certainly matched the fever of the World, which said of the hangings: "Society cannot afford to let these men escape." It didn't, of course.
On November 11, all of Chicago—and the nation—awaited the execution of the seven men. At 8:45 A.M. Louis Lingg avoided the noose by thrusting a bomb in his mouth and killing himself. Two others were given reprieves; the governor granted them life in prison. Four awaited death. Russell said the mood in Chicago "had become almost intolerable." As police with riot rifles swarmed all over the city, rumors circulated that some twenty-thousand anarchists were planning to assault the jail. At six in the morning two hundred reporters, including Russell, were admitted to the jail. Russell described the scene:
From six until nigh about eleven we stood there, two hundred of us, cooped in the jailer's office, waiting with nerves played upon by more disquieting rumors than I have ever heard in a like period. So great was the nervous tension that two of the reporters, tired and experienced men, turned sick and faint.... In all my experience this was the only occasion on which any reporter flinched from duty, however trying; but it is hard now to understand the tremendous power of the infectional panic that had seized upon the city and had its storm center at that jail.
The men were duly executed—"four lives crushed out," Russell wrote, "according to the fashion of surviving barbarism." The great question that was never asked, Russell realized years later, was: what had driven these men into an attack upon the social order? He also could have asked why neither he nor anyone else in the press asked the question. The answer is threefold: as a relatively new reporter, in fact, as one who was only writing "sidebar" or ancillary stories on the Haymarket saga, Russell didn't have the authority to speak with such a clear voice. Even editorial writers needed Pulitzer's approval. Moreover, despite his later opposition to capital punishment, Russell might have felt that the hangings had a palliative effect. A year after the executions, he returned to the various Chicago neighborhoods "where anarchy was wont to thrive. The drinking dives that used to echo every night with curses against capitalists... were as quiet as the grave," he found. The city, he concluded, "has been free from fear for the first time since 1877." Lastly, his timidity in voicing his own opinion in his reporting reflected what he had learned about professional comportment and journalistic expectations. "Be exactly like a doctor at a clinic," a veteran reporter had told him. "Interested in the dissection but not moved by it." Could the son of a crusading editor and grandson of a fire-breathing preacher be content merely to observe? For a while he would have to be. He had a few more executions to watch before he could begin to protest.
Sing Sing prison was one of America's notorious penitentiaries. Sitting on 130 acres of land on the east bank of the Hudson River, thirty miles north of New York City, it was the repository for the city's worst criminals right from its opening in 1826. Russell knew it well from his time at the Commercial Advertiser, when he accompanied famous felons as they were carted off to Sing Sing. In March 1887, Russell methodically detailed the journey from Manhattan to Sing Sing of Alderman John O'Neill, who had accepted bribes in return for a his vote on a city franchise, and William J. Rourke, who was found guilty of murder. "Both took their first prison meal today. It consisted of bean soup, bread and coffee," he wrote in a story that ended with Rourke's father covering his son's face with kisses as they bade each other farewell. Given remarkable access to the inmates, Russell wrote intimate profiles of Sing Sing's prisoners.
When he left the World in 1889 to join the Herald he was asked to venture once again to Sing Sing to observe an experimental new method of executing criminals: electrocution. The advent of electricity brought with it the notion that executions could be done more efficiently than hanging. "Instantaneous and painless" one magazine raved. The first New York electrocution came in 1890 at a prison in Auburn, New York, but it was controversial. The victim did not die very quickly, and his suffering may have been intense. Since part of New York's electrocution law barred reporters from observing the executions or even reporting them in detail, no one was quite sure what had happened. An editorial in the Times conceded that the new method had flaws, "but when the facts are sifted down it appears pretty clear that execution by electricity is altogether feasible and every way preferable to hanging." The real problem, the Times argued, is that by excluding the press, a misimpression develops about what really happens in the execution chamber.
Nonetheless, the state stuck to the order barring reporters from the death scene. On July 8, 1891, four more men were executed by electrocution at Sing Sing. When the newspapers printed varying and critical accounts about how the deaths took place they were severely castigated. Some said the criticism was jeopardizing the electrocution experiment. On December 8, when wife-murderer Martin Loppy was electrocuted, the infuriated New York governor stationed state police on highways with orders to kill any newsman who even tried to get near Sing Sing. But again, the stories that followed the murder painted a horrid picture. Four times the electric current had to be applied before Loppy died.
Finally, in the winter of 1892, the "veil of stupid secrecy," as Russell called it, was lifted. A few reporters, including Russell, were chosen to join a group of nineteen witnesses, mostly doctors, as Charles McElvaine, a twenty-three-year-old Brooklyn man, was led to what the Times labeled as Sing Sing's "perfect execution plant." After a foiled robbery, McElvaine, then nineteen, had repeatedly stabbed a grocery store owner as the his horrified wife watched. His conviction and sentencing were swift. By 11:00 A.M. on February 9, the witnesses stood around the large oak execution chair. Russell described the scene. "The place was very still now... breathlessly still," he wrote. McElvaine entered. His sallow face had "a brutal, cruel look" and he appeared "half human" as he blew a kiss to the onlookers. "His gaze encountered the stony, unsympathetic stare of the witnesses," Russell said. With his hands shackled, McElvaine declared, "Forgive my sins. Let her go!" As the electrical charge surged, his body convulsed, his teeth shone, and his face contorted. After fifty seconds, he went limp. Then McElvaine startled all when he wheezed, coughed, and gasped. The switch went back on again for thirty-eight seconds, until purple spots appeared on the dead man's head. It was over. Russell looked at one of the other reporters, Arthur Brisbane, who became a famous editor for both Pulitzer and William Randolph Hearst, and saw that his usually ruddy face turned a greenish white. "He was visibly shaking," Russell saw. Brisbane stayed through the electrocution but left before the autopsy, sick to his stomach. Russell seemed unmoved by what he had witnessed. The lead of his story was clinical:
With the purely animal courage which had so long sustained him fast ebbing away and the innate coward in him struggling to his lips in a wavering cry, Murderer Charles McElvaine sat in the execution chair at Sing Sing yesterday morning. In the next breath, in a function of a second, his life as a conscious being had ceased.... The electrical shock had passed through him and robbed out his miserable existence with merciful and unerring swiftness.
Showing again no sign of opposition to capital punishment, Russell then praised the new method as a "success" and ended his story on a surprisingly personal note. "I have seen an electrocution. It is not as painful a thing to see as a hanging, even when it is as unfortunate in some of its features as this one was yesterday."
Russell was even more unequivocal eight weeks later when he watched a second electrocution at Sing Sing, this time of Italian immigrant Joseph Cotto, whom he labeled "an abject coward." Cotto stabbed a companion twelve times in the back as they stole vegetables in Brooklyn, then tried to blame his girlfriend. His execution was particularly important for the electrocution experiment. If it failed, the legislature was threatening to return to hangings. Ten reporters witnessed the death which the Herald splashed across the top of its first news page ("Execution of Murderer Cotto") along side a four-column drawing of Cotto in the electric chair. Russell wrote a dramatic, detailed description of the death—the ashen gray face, the trembling lips, the saliva flying from Cotto's mouth at the moment of death. After interviewing many of the doctors present, Russell concluded: "The new method was humane, instantaneous and from the point of view of civilization immeasurably an advance over hanging." The following day he visited Cotto's mistress, who declared: "He was a bad man." Many years later, Russell would become a vice president of the American League to Abolish Capital Punishment, calling it a "strange relic of darkness." But if he had any regrets about the executions he had witnessed, it could not be found in Russell's news coverage of executions.
III. THE ACE DETECTIVE
As a teenager growing up in Davenport, Iowa, Russell was fond of reading the New York newspapers that came into town. He especially liked it when the reporters played detective and wrote murder-mystery stories. When a ghastly crime was committed in New York, both the police and the press would hunt for the murderer. "I was fond of imagining myself to be Amos Cummings or some other famous New York reporter," Russell said. Cummings was a well-known murder-mystery feature writer for the Sun in the 1870s. In the Heilwagner murder case, Russell tried his hand at sleuthing, searching fruitlessly for clues that might have vindicated the old German accused of murdering his daughter-in-law. "Here was a mystery ready... for the solving, and I did not know what to do with it," he lamented. The city reporters undoubtedly would have known what to do. Oddly, when he came to New York the desire to make his name as a detective-writer burned in Russell more than a passion for social justice or reform issues. Of course, his detective work helped changed that perspective—and helped train him as an investigator. In short, the detective phase that was to come helped further his reportorial and social education.
His first chance came in 1887 when an unidentified woman was found murdered in Manhattan. Despite a tentative identification of one Ana Larsen, no clues could be found as to the woman's background. Russell doggedly pursued various sources until a trail led to Rahway, New Jersey, where he found the real Ana Larsen very much alive. "She was very reluctant to say anything for publication," Russell told the World's readers, but Russell bragged that his "persistent questioning" retrieved facts that even the New York City police did not have. In an example of classic Pulitzer self-promotion, Russell and the World took full credit for their "unremitting" effort, for not sparing "labor or expense," and, of course, for breaking open the case. Russell's wish for detective fame was coming true.
By 1889 the Herald was keeping him busy with various assignments, sometimes rather risky ones. Once he disguised himself as a coal heaver on a canal boat. The toughs he encountered were far worse than those of the Brooklyn "barrel house." The region was "so given over to savagery and abandoned by the forces of law and government," Russell recalled, "that a parallel for it can hardly be found in a civilized society." Working undercover, Russell listened to unrestrained conversations about various crimes. When he used those conversations to write about one particularly atrocious assault, the police followed with an arrest for murder.
Russell was more comfortable and much safer when he played the reporting game undisguised. For example, he earned more plaudits for his personal enterprise—the characteristic that later distinguished the muckraking journalists—in tracking down the fate of the steamer Danmark which was lost at sea with seven hundred passengers. Trying to get information from a ship captain, he almost drowned in a rowboat in New York's harbor. Eventually he got the story in more detail than any other reporter. Of course, the Danmark story would seem a trifling matter when, two months later, he went to Johnstown to write about the great flood disaster.
In the process of investigating puzzling and intricate mysteries, Russell became a famous New York newspaperman. By 1890 he was heralded as one of the ten best reporters in America. A magazine, writing about a murder Russell was investigating, referred to him and Jacob Riis as "brilliant New York newspaper men." Part of that fame came from his persistent detective work, which revealed the qualities that distinguished his later muckraking work: he was an extremely hard worker, constantly digging for new information; he was able to charm and beguile sources from all walks of life into talking to him; he was an astute observer of people, carefully watching their mannerisms and speech patterns, for example, to get their measure and determine their credibility; and he had a facile mind that was able to ask countless questions and pose all sorts of theories as facts emerged in an ongoing story. One more thing: he knew how to milk a story for all it was worth. "There was a chance to drag out a story from almost any event," he once commented.
Aside from learning the ways of the police, Russell's reporting also introduced him to life in New York's dreariest and most dangerous neighborhoods. A murder in a dirty Lower East Side hotel, mostly known as a hangout for drunken sailors and prostitutes, particularly drew his attention. In a crime "far more shocking and more mysterious than all the rest," he told his New Yorker readers, a young woman had her throat cut and her intestines removed, with the murderer then taking away the entrails. Russell described "this horrible thing" in some detail, then cornered Chief Detective Byrnes, with whom he had worked in the Ruttinger case: "Do you think it is Jack the Ripper?" he asked, referring to the infamous London killer then on the loose. "I decline to say," Byrnes replied, heightening the drama. Over the next few days, police focused instead on a mysterious Dutchman as the suspect. But what was most interesting about Russell's reportage was his writing about the neighborhood where the murder took place, an area he knew well from his days at the Commercial Advertiser. With little news available about the suspect, Russell suddenly became more of a sociologist than a newsman. He wrote: "The whole locality is suggestive of crime and fairly bristles with vice in its most hideous mien. Within a minute walk [of the crime scene] are scores of dives given up to deeds and scenes so foul that their description would be impossible, and even if narrated the narrative would be regarded as incredible." He proceeded to describe some of the "foul nests of iniquity" where women lay in wait for men, where in Blind Men's Alley men and women "flock together and live in horrible squalor." He seemed almost overcome by the sordid scene. "Their wretchedness is of a character which words cannot do justice, and the only curcease of misery that ever comes to them is when they become insensible from drinking stale beer." No wonder, he wrote, the crime was committed here, in a district that has put more criminals in the state's prisons than any other in the state. One could almost sense that Russell the detective was seeing clues and patterns that were leading him to a larger field of study. The murders were part of a social pattern, or were, at the least, related to horrid social conditions. One person may have died from "Jack the Ripper"'s fiendish knife but every day thousands were dying slow deaths from ignored conditions. One more murder mystery—his last and one of America's most infamous—confirmed Russell's growing suspicions.
"The most remarkable murder New England has ever known." That was how Russell described what he found on August 6, 1892 in Fall River, Massachusetts. Two days before, Andrew J. Borden, a wealthy retired undertaker, and his second wife, Abbie, were hacked to death in their two-story clapboard house. Abbie was struck nineteen times with an ax, mostly on her head, which was chopped to pieces. Andrew Borden was killed with ax blows to the head while he slept in a downstairs room. Blood was splattered all over walls and doors of both rooms. All of New England was abuzz at this brutal slaying in a town that was the largest cotton-mill center in the United States. Reporters from nearby Boston and New York were rushed to the crime scene. The Herald, of course, turned to Russell, not only to cover the investigation but to solve the puzzle of who had committed the crime.
Russell filled three full columns of the Herald on Sunday, August 7. He recounted how the police searched the Borden house for the murder weapon—which was never found—and for other clues as to how someone could have entered the house with a maid present, killed the elderly Bordens, and then fled without notice. Russell immediately sought a motive. "Who would profit by Borden's death?" he asked the family attorney. No one, he replied, since Andrew Borden had a will that left a natural distribution of his considerable estate. The attorney then shook his head and told Russell: "I have read many cases in the books, the newspapers, and in fiction... and I never heard of a case like this. A most outrageous, brutal crime, perpetrated in midday in an open house on a prominent thoroughfare and absolutely motiveless."
On Day Two of his coverage, declaring that "the case is no doubt pretty dark," Russell carefully—and quite accurately—recreated the events around the murder. He began to question the story of the thirty-two-year-old Lizzie, who said she had gone to a barn to retrieve fishing tackle when the murder had taken place. Russell's final paragraph noted ominously, "There is every reason to believe that members of the family are directly accountable for the death of the two victims." The following day police mistakenly dropped a box filled with axes taken from the Borden house while reporters watched; but none had blood on them.
While Russell carefully reported various emerging theories and rumors, his most telling sentence further implicated Lizzie. "The Bordens are a hot-blooded race. To be 'as fiery as a Borden' is an old byword in Fall River." That was a legend, however, that historians did not confirm. As police gathered evidence and as the local press urged the police to charge Lizzie, Russell watched her carefully and described a "grim and self-composed woman" who revealed little to the public. As she emerged from a closed-door coroner's inquest, Russell said she was drawn and anxious. As soon as she spotted a knot of waiting reporters, however, she changed. "You could see the very muscles move in her face as she composed her expression to read haughty indifference.... all traces of emotion disappeared." Was this the face of a cool, calculating murderer? Russell seemed to think so, as did the police who charged her with the murder.
The story of Lizzie Borden's trial (which Russell did not cover) and her eventual acquittal has become "a part of American folklore, a legend celebrated in verse, song, drama, ballet and literature." For Russell, however, the month he spent in this industrial city with eighty thousand residents was important because it considerably furthered his social education. When the coroner's inquest went behind closed doors and Russell had little to report, he began to wander about Fall River. "It was my first good opportunity to observe deliberately the inside of a mill town," he later recalled. He was startled. "The results seemed wholly at variance with my previous ideas as to the grandeur and glory of industrial development."
Russell found that the mill workers lived in squalid quarters and poverty. Sanitation was poor; the rooms were dark and ill smelling. It was worse, in many ways, than what he had found in the tenements of the Lower East Side of Manhattan; he called it "a kind of blackness.... a ghastly train of ruined lives." A friend took him one Sunday to visit a mill worker and his family of six who lived in two rooms. The man made $7 a week; his two oldest children made $1 and $2.50. Both had left school and were likely to spend the rest of their days in the mills. One of the boys, thirteen years old, was "prematurely old, hopelessly dull, obviously inert," Russell found. He chewed tobacco and had begun to stoop like his father. There were hundreds of boys like him. "They had been born in the mills; their world was circumscribed by the mills; they expected to die in the mills."
Russell couldn't help contrasting the lovely homes of the mill owners he had seen on the main streets with the tenements of the back streets. "Standing that day in Fall River," he said, "I fell into a train of thought, obvious enough, and yet, if I may make the confession, quite new to me." How could the disparity in lives be justified? Why should the mill owner, who barely works, live in luxury while the worker suffers so? It was essentially the same question he had first asked in St. Johnsbury about Jim Dow and the Fairbanks family. Increasingly, "it was impossible to avoid that question," Russell found. The Lizzie Borden murder had taken on a different meaning for him. Some years later he wrote:
I had been sent to Fall River to investigate a murder. It suddenly struck me as strange that nobody ever seemed to investigate this other kind of murder going slowly on before me. The murder I had been sent to investigate had been done with a hatchet; death had been instantaneous. It suddenly occurred to me that of the two methods slaughter with the hatchet was the more merciful. Many persons wished to hang the perpetrators of the murder with the hatchet. How did it happen that no one wanted to arrest or prosecute the perpetrators of the murders in these tenements?
After the Borden murder episode, Russell spent two more years reporting before he became an editor. But by 1892 reporting had served its major purpose; certain issues were coming clearly into focus. And what he had concluded was that the best of what he saw, "for instruction and things to think about," was not Fifth Avenue but Mulberry Street. His interest was in the mill workers' lives, not in the mansions of the mill owners. The only question was, when would he feel free to say or do something about what journalism had taught him.
CHAPTER FOUR
CRUSADING AGAINST THE BOSSES
I. POLITICS UP CLOSE
THE EDUCATION OF CHARLES EDWARD RUSSELL was not confined to what he learned as he prowled the streets of New York City. While he made his name as an ace reporter-detective, he also began to get choice assignments to cover politics. His first big one came in the spring of 1892 when the New York Herald sent him to Minneapolis to cover the Republican National Convention as its chief correspondent. It was a bittersweet homecoming. "After the floods in the South and West, the heat in Washington, the mud in New York and the gloom and murkiness in Chicago," Russell said, " the clean streets and wide open hospitality [of Minneapolis] is most welcome." But Minneapolis—where two aunts now lived—brought sad memories also. A year earlier he had he returned to the city sadly to attend the funeral of his father, who was only fifty-eight years old when he died. In his final days Edward Russell longed to be back in Davenport, fighting against the "interests" with his beloved Davenport Gazette. "At times," Edward Russell wrote a friend, "I have wished myself again in Iowa, and there so situated as to be able to devote labor and voice to continuous advocacy of... real reform." But his spirit had likely been crushed over the battles he had fought and lost. As his son gazed at the casket, he recalled his father's victories but also the bitter losses and betrayals that had culminated in his father's newspaper being taken away.
One of Edward Russell's earlier losses, in fact, gave the son his first glimpse at the inner and grimy working of politics, which perhaps should have warned him to be wary. In 1876, when Charles was sixteen, his father was at the most active—and popular—stage of his career. The Scott County Republican Convention unanimously nominated him to be the district's choice for representative to Congress. He stood a good chance of winning in what was largely a Republican area. But at the last minute, after the nomination was his, the county Republican leader decided that he wanted the nomination, which Charles Russell labeled as a "betrayal." Edward Russell "felt the treachery deeply," his son said, but he did not fight the party leader's decision. In fact, he went along with the request and ceded the vote to his opponent. He then became the chairman of the new candidate's campaign, helping elect him to Congress. The son learned a lesson about politics, however: it was a dirty business that was ruled by money and the lust for personal power and prestige. Rarely, Russell sadly began to learn, was politics solely or even mostly about important issues.
Ironically, William Russell and William Rutledge, Charles Russell's grandfathers, had come to the United States from England not only because they thought America offered opportunity but more importantly because they admired the democratic ideals for which America stood. Like so many immigrants of the 1830s, they envisioned egalitarianism, not caste; they saw political institutions that reflected the people's desires and needs, not those of royalty. Their grandson grew up believing in those same ideals. However, what Russell eventually observed first-hand—from his father's bitter experience with organizational politics to backroom vote buying and horse-trading at national political conventions—turned his idealism, at least about conventional politics, to cynicism. While he did spearhead a significant but momentary crusading triumph over "boss" rule in New York, Russell's early journalistic experience, as this chapter will show, also nurtured seeds of discontent and motivated him to explore ethical alternatives to the dirty politics that his reporting found.
Russell learned early on in his newspaper career that money was a dominant factor in politics. Both political parties, he believed, used campaign contributions from business interests to buy votes of delegates at nominating conventions and of voters on election day. "The whole thing was rotten and produced a huge crop of still worse rottenness," he declared. His first clear view of this came in 1883 when, as a reporter for the Gazette, he covered the Iowa State Democratic Party convention.
Russell had become friendly with James Baird Weaver, an Iowan who had been the Greenback Party's presidential candidate in 1880, who served three terms in Congress, and who became the Populist Party's presidential candidate in 1892. Two things made Weaver attractive to Russell: he thought the railroads were the greatest menace to American democracy, and he felt that a small group of bankers were controlling the country's finances. It is no wonder that he became the Populist Party's presidential candidate, since its platform sought to nationalize the railroads and closely regulate the banks. Weaver seemed to cast a spell over Russell. "He never walked down the street or entered a public assembly anywhere without instantly drawing all eyes," Russell recalled admiringly years after he covered Weaver while he served in Congress. Russell liked the fact that Wall Street loathed Weaver, that respected publications called him vile names, and that Weaver denounced the governing class. He was Russell's kind of guy: a dissenter. They sat together at the 1883 Iowa convention and the fifty-three-year-old Weaver tutored the twenty-three-year-old Russell on the emerging ways of politics. Look at the convention floor, he said. The most active participants on the floor were the lobbyists from the railroad companies and the lawyers from the business interests. At one point he showed Russell fourteen railroad lobbyists as they worked the delegates; none of them had ever before taken any interest in conventions. But, Weaver pointed out, they had learned it was cheaper to manipulate a convention than to buy an election.
Russell's growing cynicism about bourgeois politics can be glimpsed also in some of his reporting when he first came to New York in 1886. In an article he sent to the Detroit Tribune he reported that financier August Belmont had to pay more than $150,000 to re-elect his son to Congress. The people "got an idea that they would like to have a man in Congress instead of a manikin [sic]," he wrote. So Belmont had to buy the election. He told also of a clerk who was dismissed from his $15,000-a-year New York City Health Department job. Why? "He was lacking in one great essential to succeed in New York politics—dishonesty. So the machine men tossed him overboard." He cast a similar theme in a story on a clerk who stole money from his father's department store. "It nearly broke his father's heart," Russell reported. "What did he do with him, deprive him of pocket money for a year? Oh, no, he got him elected to the legislature."
Russell covered his first national political convention in 1888 when the Republicans met in Chicago where Russell played a minor role as one of the New York World's correspondent. "You will see a grand and impressive sight," he was told by a friend, "representatives of the nation assembled to select the nation's ruler." However, Russell only saw political machinations that were unconnected to any issues. All that mattered, in the end, was what the manufacturing interests wanted. Russell acted mostly as a legman for Ballard Smith, a dashing and arrogant Dartmouth graduate who ran the show for the World, which commandeered a suite of rooms in the swanky Richeleu Hotel. In the adjacent suite was Chauncey Depew, the New York senator who was friendly with the World and close with Smith. The doors between the suites were always open. Russell was surprised. "The operations of the machine that are rarely seen were performed before our eyes," he found.
Russell had two tasks at the convention—to run errands for Smith and to keep tabs on the Iowa delegation. Since he was from Iowa, he knew the leaders of that state's delegation. In fact, Iowa's Senator Allison was one of his father's friends and one of the six contenders for the nomination. Russell stuck close to the Iowa leaders as jockeying over whether to choose Allison, James G. Blaine, John Sherman, Benjamin Harrison, or Chauncey Depew took place behind the scenes. The party's leaders did not impress Russell. "I have never seen a more pliable exhibition of fumbling indecision and backing and filling. I think it is a safe assertion," he concluded, "that all great men look wonderfully small at close range."
While the leaders huddled, a movement began to draft the reluctant Blaine, a former U.S. Senator and Secretary of State who had narrowly lost the nomination in 1876 but who was the nominee in 1884. "The Plumed Knight," as he was called, lost the 1884 election when the "rum, Romanism and rebellion" epithet used to characterize the Democrats backfired. In the spring of 1888 Blaine had sent a letter to the party leaders, saying he was not a candidate under any circumstances. Nonetheless, many at the convention continued to work for him. Russell received a tip that Blaine's two sons were secretly working against their father. He told Smith, who was astonished. Russell sought out Walker Blaine, whom he knew well. The son was clearly uncomfortable discussing his father's nomination. Finally, Russell confronted Walker with what he had heard; the son was embarrassed. Russell talked off the record with him and they decided what parts of the conversation could be used. Walker Blaine admitted that the family was opposed to the father's nomination because it would hurt his health. Russell did not believe him. Only after the convention did Smith tell Russell the real reason for the family's opposition was Mrs. Blaine's fear of a repeat of 1884, when newspapers alleged that Blaine's eldest son was fathered before his parents were married. That turned out to be false. "Other matters were debated still more personal and private," Russell recalled. Russell was surprised—and offended—that politics was in the gutter.
Russell found the convention eye-opening in other ways. The leaders and the business interests made any decision that mattered at the convention behind the scenes, Russell found. "Every reporter that has followed politics must know all about it." And yet no one wrote about it. A look at the World's coverage of the convention confirms this. Ballard Smith's stories follow the public shifts of the convention and the nomination of Harrison, but none of the backroom jockeying that he and Russell were privy to was included in their reporting. But in these, his early years of reporting, Russell played the game without rocking the boat.
II. THE BUYING OF THE PRESIDENCY
Russell got his chance to use all that he had thus far learned about politics when he returned to Minneapolis in 1892. By all rights, it should have been a quiet convention. Benjamin Harrison had defeated President Grover Cleveland for the presidency in 1888 and was likely to be the GOP nominee again. But Russell and the press corps found intrigue—and more than a bit of political and financial mischief. After losing the nomination to Harrison in 1888, James G. Blaine was named Secretary of State; at the age of fifty eight his days as a presidential aspirant seemingly over. But his four years in the Harrison cabinet were disquieting, marked by personal tragedy and strained relations with the president. Soon after joining the cabinet, Blaine asked the president to appoint his son, Walker, who was his father's most trusted aide, as Assistant Secretary of State. Harrison refused, apparently fearing that a Blaine faction might form to oppose his policies. Two years later, Walker Blaine died of pneumonia. A month later, after coming to Washington for her older brother's funeral, Alice Blaine also died, devastating the family. But Blaine continued his work as Secretary of State, even though his health had suffered greatly. Mrs. Blaine, for her part, grew more and more angry with the president, her pique increased by Harrison's refusal to give a government job to her son-in-law. Despite his public disavowals, whispers began that Blaine might oppose Harrison for the nomination of 1892.
Thus, when Blaine came to New York, ostensibly to visit a doctor just two weeks before the Republican convention, Russell was waiting for him at the train station. Blaine exited his train, "slowly and carefully like a man conscious of an infirmity," Russell told the Herald's readers. He seemed in "excellent spirits," but Russell observed that "he had lost the old imperiousness of manner." Russell asked for an interview and Blaine declined, saying he was tired from the long journey. But Russell cajoled him into answering a few gentle questions. All he would concede about his trip, despite rumors that he had come to New York to consult with party leaders opposed to Harrison, was, "It has no connection with any public affair—not with politics, either." No one believed Blaine, however. In the column next to Russell's story the Herald printed a headline declaring, "Blaine Gets Nearer to the Nomination." The story called his nomination in Minneapolis "inevitable."
The following day Russell and nearly two dozen other correspondents met with Blaine. He stood on one side of a table, facing the reporters who were shocked at his appearance. His "death-like pallor," Russell found, made the room "depressing and funereal." Yet Blaine swore that his health was "very good indeed." And, he said, he had come to New York with no thought about seeking the nomination for the presidency. Both statements were complete lies and Russell knew it. "His health had been bad and growing worse. His malady was incurable and he knew it," Russell recalled years later. As for seeking the nomination, Russell knew Blaine was "infected with the presidential fever... [it] never leaves the victim while the victim lives." Russell wrote little about the true nature of Blaine's health, however, going so far as to quote sources that declared, "There will be no trouble about his health." Eight months after the convention, Blaine died. But Russell did debunk Blaine's declaration that he wasn't interested in the presidency. After leaving the group interview with Blaine, Russell met an acquaintance from his days as a reporter in Chicago. The source, whom he did not identify, had just met with the powerful former New York Senator Thomas C. Platt, who had become an implacable foe of Harrison and a leader of what Russell labeled the "Blaine boom." The source divulged what had occurred at the meeting and Russell was able to write the next day: "James G. Blaine will accept the republican [sic] nomination for the President if it is offered to him." Citing a source "very close to Mr. Blaine himself," Russell declared, "The Blaine blood is up." He then detailed the antagonisms that had developed between Blaine and Harrison and painted an optimistic picture of his chances at the upcoming convention.
The following day Platt gave Russell a rare and candid interview in which he extolled some of President Harrison's policies but concluded, nonetheless, that he could not hold the Republican Party together in the upcoming election and that another man was needed. The office was not his "private property," Platt declared. What Russell apparently didn't know—and didn't write—when he gave Platt so much space in the Herald was that Platt and Pennsylvania boss Matthew Quay were working behind the scenes to oust Harrison. They were angry at his administration because they felt Harrison had snubbed them in giving out patronage jobs. Platt thus was using Russell to grind his political ax, although it gave Russell a juicy story for the Herald's front page.
So off Russell went to Minneapolis to cover a convention that he predicted would be "the bitterest fight that has been seen in a national convention since 1880 and the days of the 'Old Guard.'" Russell's ten days of coverage displayed again his strength as a writer and a reporter: he spun a dramatic story about the Secretary of State challenging the President of the United States, while at the same time getting behind the scenes to reveal the inner dirty workings of the political machines behind the candidates. Unlike 1888, when Russell was a cub reporter, he had the authority to muckrake a bit at this convention.
As soon as he arrived in Minneapolis on June 3, Russell sounded out all the leaders of the Republican Party and began his first day's story with: "Black clouds will hover over the convention. All eyes are watching the gathering storm. It is coming." The cloud burst the next day when Blaine formally announced his resignation from the cabinet. It was unclear if it had been forced or voluntary, although a Blaine biographer concluded that Blaine, not Harrison, had made the choice. For his part, Russell simply reported that the Blaine resignation let loose a "magical" force in Minneapolis. "Every Blaine man in the city was swinging his hat and thanking God," Russell wrote. From that point on, the race was on between Harrison and Blaine. "It is now Blaine and chaos, with Harrison doubly confounded," Russell wrote as he observed how the two sides began their maneuvering to round up votes.
Russell straddled two lines in his reporting, lines that mirrored his mixed emotions about the political process then unfolding. On the one hand, he took it seriously as an important democratic process. He stayed in close touch with the party leaders of various state delegations, he made careful head counts to determine which candidate seemed to be ahead in the balloting, and he offered sage political commentary on the strengths and weaknesses of Harrison and Blaine. But he also seemed angry at the methods that were being used to garner the nomination. Having covered the 1888 convention, Russell had a basis for comparison. "Many of the actors were the same," Russell found, "but the situation was now very different." In 1888 Russell found that manufacturers—what he called the "Protected Interests"—controlled the convention. By 1892 Russell concluded that many of those interests had combined into the "trusts" that he and the other muckrakers would attack so thoroughly after the turn of the century. And the combinations had largely decided that Grover Cleveland, the Democrat and former president, would be their candidate. Thus, they had little interest in the Republican convention, which, Russell found, simply became "a battleground of jealous and warring leaders."
Those leaders had money to spend, however, and they used it to bribe delegates. By the fourth day of the convention, Russell told the Herald's readers that "plotting, persuasion, intrigue, bull dozing and supplication" were dominating the nomination process. The Southern delegates, in particular, Russell found, were the ones being wooed, "pulled and hauled from one camp to another." The black delegates from the South were the focus of the most attention. "I cannot say that any of the downtrodden colored brethren of the South have been bribed to-day," Russell reported on June 7, but he did find that they were being paid $400 by both sides for tickets that allowed them entry to the convention floor.
A day later Russell became even bolder in making his bribery charges. "Both sides are openly engaged in buying up these votes," he alleged. As much as $1,200 was being paid certain black Southern delegates, he wrote in a passage in a June 8 story. Russell then used some of his own enterprise to confirm the bribery by going undercover. He put on the badge of a New York alternate and went one afternoon among the black delegates. Believing that he was closely affiliated with Platt of New York, the delegates offered Russell their votes for anywhere from $100 to $300. "The thing was done on the street corners as if it were as legitimate as buying apples," he recalled later in a memoir. In his memoir, Russell cited only Harrison's forces as guilty of bribery. Writing for the Herald in 1892, however, he blamed both sides. He wrote that it was "humiliating" that Harrison and Blaine "felt obliged to resort to bribery and all sorts of political expediencies." In fact, he charged that the Blaine forces "far outclass their adversaries" in the bribery game. A Blaine biographer, writing one year after the convention, concurred with Russell's reporting, saying that the Blaine forces used "all the arts and machinery within their control to carry their object."
On the day before Harrison finally won the nomination, Russell expressed his disappointment with the convention. "The white plumes still flaunt," he wrote about Blaine, "but their feathers are bedraggled. The big hat is still waved, but its fur is ruffled and its crown indented." With the "scandalous use of money" so prevalent, Russell wondered, might it not make sense for the Republicans to turn to a third candidate, perhaps William McKinley of Ohio, who had been untainted by the corruption? If not, he predicted, "the great party of moral ideas will be defeated at the polls," which it was. But Russell was a voice in the wilderness; McKinley's time would not come for four more years. Harrison was nominated easily on June 10. Russell left Minneapolis having learned another bitter lesson about conventional politics; it was dirty indeed. He turned next to the Democratic Party convention that would assemble in ten days in Chicago.
No liquor was served at the Minneapolis convention, irking Russell and his staff. But in Chicago the liquor was plentiful, and the reporters needed it to cope with the convention's problems. Unexpected construction forced the Herald's reporting team out of its planned quarters and into an unfinished hotel. Then, one of Russell's top reporters fell ill and left him short-staffed. And the temporary building that had been constructed just for the convention, nicknamed the "wigwam," was so flimsy that it leaked and shook in the wind. Russell blamed "a gang of greedy speculators" for the shoddy construction. All they wanted, he said, was to get twenty-two thousand paying spectators into the building in order "to establish a new record in quick fortune making." Complicating matters, the summer weather in Chicago was violent. "The rain fell in a way I have never witnessed outside the tropics, the lightning was sharp, the thunder terrific... the air hot, heavy and depressing," Russell said.
As for the political situation, Russell found it "exciting and puzzling," but in reality there was little of the personal drama of the kind that pitted a president against a cabinet member. Grover Cleveland was clearly the front runner for the nomination, with the largest number of delegates by far, but he seemed not to have enough votes to win on the first ballot. His managers feared that if he failed on the first ballot, another candidate could emerge. The only viable challenger was former New York Governor David B. Hill, whose alliance with New York City's Tammany Hall Democrats had the potential to thwart his fellow New Yorker, Cleveland. If the Hill-Tammany block could combine with the free silverites who opposed Cleveland, the convention might yet provide some sizzle for the press.
Perhaps the most exciting—and perilous—moment of the convention came not from political intrigue, but from the "wigwam." On June 21, as the Cleveland forces sought their margin of victory, a fierce storm struck Chicago. Rain leaked into the building, and the press corps actually sat in its seats with umbrellas. "The chances of a terrible disaster were too plain for the most careless to ignore," Russell remarked. At about four o'clock, just as New York's governor moved from his seat to consult a delegate, a huge electric light fell on the spot where he was sitting. It would have killed him instantly. The loud crash sent the already nervous audience of twenty-two thousand into a panic. Thousands sprang for the exits, which became choked and impassable. The reporters' tables were overrun, and Russell found himself lying on the floor "crushed beneath the heels of a frantic mob." He thought he would die: "To tell the truth, I gave myself up for lost," Russell said. But mysteriously the panic subsided when the crowd realized there was no real danger. All Russell saw around him were ashen faces. "My own, no doubt, [was] as white as any," he recalled.
The rest of the convention was largely a bore. "Nobody wanted to hear most of the tiresome splutterers" who gave speeches, Russell said. The only interesting occurrence was behind the scenes, where Cleveland's chief lieutenant, William C. Whitney, a former Secretary of the Navy who had made his fortune by assembling a railroad empire in New York City, was cajoling delegates to join the former president's bandwagon. Russell was greatly impressed by Whitney's magnetism. Russell watched as, day after day, state delegation after delegation was escorted in to see Whitney. He talked to the delegates "plainly, man-to-man and on the level. No political hyprocisy... no political cunning." Then, each evening, Whitney met with the reporters and spoke openly about his meetings. When Russell sought to confirm what Whitney had told the reporters, he always found he was telling the truth. All the newspapermen, Russell included, grew to respect Whitney, who soon piled up the votes Cleveland needed to lock up the nomination on the first ballot.
Still, Russell wondered—but not in print—how delegations that were so firmly opposed to Cleveland were magically transformed by Whitney. "As to the logic that had persuaded them of their previous errors I may say that some of us entertained suspicions, but we never could verify them," Russell said. His suspicion was that Whitney was using money to win over delegates. Not the kind of bribery he had seen in Minneapolis, however, but the backroom brand of money that the "gigantic and overshadowing influence" of financiers who supported Cleveland could promise. Russell felt that Tammany Hall, for example, was promised contracts and jobs that were at Whitney's disposal in New York City. "To this day I know not what passed between [Whitney] and the boss of the Promiseland delegation," Russell commented. Maybe, he said sarcastically, they were discussing dried prunes. His implication, of course, was that Whitney was giving away the company store in order to win the presidency for Cleveland. "Back of Mr. Whitney, supporting him and even going behind him, was the great Financial Interest that ruled absolutely the second Cleveland administration," Russell charged.
Russell drew these conclusions in his 1914 memoir of his reporting career, but in 1892, as he explained, "none of us ever wrote or suggested the conclusions we had formed in our own minds." His convention coverage never hinted that Whitney might have been making backroom deals that could compromise a soon-to-be President Cleveland. "If my service as a political reporter taught me anything," Russell reflects, "it was this vast and irreconcilable difference between things as they really are and things as they are prepared for representation to the general public."
In writing this, Russell was reflecting on and criticizing his own reporting, as well as that of the rest of the press corps. Why would Russell, so schooled by his father to be the community's conscience and brimming with anger at injustice, not write what he knew to be true? A few possibilities emerge. The first is that his newspaper would not let him. In the 1880s and 1890s editors and publishers had clear political agendas for their newspapers. The ideal of objectivity was only emerging and was hardly defined. Stories were more likely to be loaded in the direction of a newspaper's political beliefs. While newspapers were no longer the partisan mouthpieces they had been in the early 1800s, they did still identify with political parties. Editors might have denied this was so, but news values clearly reflected political passions. Yet there is no evidence in anything Russell wrote about his experience that suggests that James Gordon Bennett, Jr., an absentee publisher to begin with, was meddling in his paper's political coverage. Joseph Pulitzer, whose staff Russell would soon join again, was involved in all his newspaper's political decisions. But the Herald had no such interfering publisher.
Another factor that increasingly effected news coverage was commerce, which had become so dominant in all phases of American life. Did advertising buyouts or promises of purchased advertisements manipulate the press? This was an idea that Russell embraced later in his career and one he learned about especially when he became an editor. In fact, Russell told of an incident, later in his career, when Whitney used his considerable power as a prominent New York businessman to kill a news story he did not want printed. But there is no evidence that commerce interfered with or stopped Russell from writing the reality of what he saw at the conventions. Perhaps Russell was reflecting another possibility: maybe it was the candidates and their handlers who carefully nurtured false impressions among the press, manipulating reporters and "spinning" accounts in ways that gullible reporters were accepting. Certainly Whitney had charmed Russell, as did New York Senator Chauncey Depew, who often took Russell aside to feed him the political tidbits of the day. The close relationships between the press and the politicos can be seen in the fact that they shared hotel suites at the conventions, mingling as equals more than adversaries. Thus, the working habits of reporters—the access to sources, the high-level political circles they ran in—mitigated against the kind of unvarnished truth that Russell longed for and reveled in when he became a muckraker after the turn of the century. Finally and perhaps most importantly was the fact that Russell was still not ready to reject conventional politics. He still clung to the hope that the two major parties could deal with the issues that the excesses of industrialism were posing. Powerful and decisive Republican leaders such as William Whitney, despite his apparent backroom antics, were attractive to Russell. As a thirty-two-year-old newsman from a Republican family, perhaps still a bit starry-eyed as he sidled up to nationally known political figures, Russell had not yet seen or learned enough to reject conventional politics. But contradictions in what he was encountering were emerging for him—that is certain. He knew that what he witnessed often in politics was not what he or his newspapers were writing. And this constituted part of his education about the grimy nature of political discourse and about the freedom he did not yet have in journalism.
III. OUSTING THE BOSS OF BROOKLYN
After seven years as a reporter, Russell was ready for new challenges. He made the move that most reporters inevitably make: he became an editor. The Herald asked him to take charge of its Brooklyn edition as both an editor and a writer. Having been an editor in four Midwestern newspapers, Russell was certainly back on familiar turf. He wasted little time in making use of his new authority.
Traveling from his Brooklyn apartment to Manhattan one morning, Russell ran into a source, Bob Kelly, a knowledgeable informant about Brooklyn politics. While standing in front of an ornate mansion that Brooklyn's former reform mayor, Seth Low, had lived in, Kelly filled Russell's ear with behind-the-scenes tales of Brooklyn's political machine. Russell listened as Kelly complained about the absolute power of the ruddy-faced sixty-seven-year-old "boss" of Brooklyn, Hugh McLaughlin, who for more than twenty years had controlled the city's politics. Operating from the front room of an auction house on Willoughby Street, while whittling on pieces of wood, "Boss" McLaughlin was known to give orders about every aspect of Brooklyn's political life. As one of the first and longest reigning bosses in America, McLaughlin came to power in the 1850s at the same time as "Boss" William Marcy Tweed was running his Tammany Hall machine across the river. These unelected power brokers maintained control by doling out jobs and contracts and putting their puppets into elected office. When the conversation with Kelly was over, Russell took a ferry across the East River and tossed over in his mind what Kelly told him. By the time the Herald's city editor William C. Reick came in to his office, Russell had readied a proposal. "I believe it is about time for an open revolt [against the Brooklyn machine]," he said. "There hasn't been one for some years and it must be about due. I think we could make a hit if we started on it." Reick asked if the McLaughlin forces could be beaten. Russell said he thought they could, and he outlined the grievances against McLaughlin and his handpicked mayor, David Boody. In short, he said, McLaughlin's ring was guilty of fraud, corruption, squandering of public money, plundering of the taxpayers, and the amassing of private fortunes at the people's expense. He told Reick: "I think that since Tweed's day there had not been an equal of the combined power and arrogance of the group that managed Brooklyn." Reick gave Russell the go-ahead to mount an attack.
With a population of nearly one million people, Brooklyn was the third largest city in America in 1893. Situated a stone's throw across the East River from New York City, but not yet a part of the booming metropolis, this City of Churches, as Brooklyn was known, had grown dramatically in size and population since the end of the Civil War. The construction of the engineering marvel, the Brooklyn Bridge, had connected it physically to Manhattan in 1883. But if the newspapers and a growing band of angry citizens were to be believed, what a visitor encountered in crossing that bridge was indeed less than marvelous.
Here's how the New York Herald, in a story written by Russell, described Brooklyn in 1893: A traveler crossing over from Manhattan might think he had entered a prairie village, he reported. The streets were "wretchedly paved, uncared for, full of dreadful odors, and deep with mud and accumulated nastiness." Vast open spaces were filled with rubbish and refuse. The public buildings were "small and poor," and the city's main thoroughfare was dominated by a deafening and dismal elevated trolley system. The few policemen who could be found on its streets looked "spiritless and ineffectual."
Basic municipal necessities were of the "crudest kind." Although Brooklyn's population had grown by 400,000 in twelve years, its water supply had remained the same for twenty years. Three times in 1893, in fact, the city had been completely without water after a main aqueduct ruptured. Four Brooklyn residents died because of the lack of water, which, even when available, was foul. The sewer system was so inadequate that, after heavy rains, raw sewage bubbled into the streets, threatening to spread disease. In certain outlying areas of Brooklyn, closer to Long Island, where new house construction had taken place, no sewers or running water were available. The city government had piled up huge amounts of debt and was in bankruptcy. Thus, it couldn't afford to make improvements, even while the tax burden on citizens had increased dramatically in the two years since Mayor Boody had been elected.
The reason why Brooklyn was such a mess and "the worst governed city in the United States," the Herald declared, was easy to explain. It had nothing to do with the boom in population, with the hordes of job-seeking immigrants and the consequent increased demand for municipal services, or even with the complexities of delivering those services in a time of rapid change. The reason, pure and simple, was the rotten nature of Brooklyn politics. Running the government were six men "who hold no office, are not in any way chosen by the people to govern, and have no responsibility except to themselves and their pocketbooks." And those pocketbooks, the Herald indicated, were considerably full of ill-gotten money. "It makes not the slightest difference in the world who is called Mayor of Brooklyn," the Herald said. "Mr. McLaughlin and his company are the real rulers."
As Russell saw it, "the situation created by the Bad Men of Brooklyn was not essentially different from that created by the Good Men of St. Johnsbury." But when he encountered unelected and absolute power in the form of the Fairbanks family in Vermont, back in 1880, he was in no position to challenge it; he simply knew it was anti-democratic and unacceptable. As an editor at the Herald, however, Russell knew he had an opportunity. Years later, reflecting on his days in daily journalism, he wrote that "the newspaper does not employ reporters to create stories." Reporters and editors "have very little call to determine why things happen," he added. But that was certainly not the attitude he took in the summer of 1893 when Russell decided to mount his first major reportorial crusade—against "Boss" McLaughlin and the Brooklyn Democratic machine.
Showing how little attention the Gilded Age newspaper paid to the concept of neutrality, Russell set out immediately to form alliances with various reformers and good government groups, as well as, surprisingly, the Brooklyn correspondent of the New York Times. He was "most sympathetic with our purpose," Russell noted, and so the two newspapers dispensed with the "newspaper rivalry that has spoiled so many good enterprises" and worked together. It is impossible to tell if the newspapers' desire to oust Mayor Boody prompted a citizens' revolt or if the citizens' restlessness pushed the newspapers into action. Most likely, the relationship was symbiotic. In the months leading up to the election of November 1893, the newspapers not only outlined on their own the corrupt activities and misgovernment of McLaughlin's forces, they also reported in detail on the activities of the emerging reform forces.
The focus and fury of the press and public was on "Old Man" Hugh McLaughlin, a simple churchgoing man who doted on his family and loved to grow flowers in his garden. He delighted more in hunting, fishing, and fine dogs than in public policy or governmental issues. Each summer he spent at least a month on sporting expeditions to fishing paradises scattered from Maine to Florida; at times he hunted in the Adirondack Mountains. Normally, when he went away, McLaughlin had little to worry about. His nephew, Hugh "Bub" McLaughlin, second in command, ran the political end of the organization, while the loyal W. C. Kingsley, who McLaughlin had taken care of with street-paving contracts, acted as the brains of the machine. But in 1893, with McLaughlin on vacation, both the citizens of Brooklyn and the press became restless.
By midsummer the Herald signaled its attitude toward the upcoming November election. In an article written by Russell, a citizen was prominently quoted as saying that Mayor Boody was "an excellent gentleman and able man but as a mayor he has been a total failure." Said the article's author, "I have not seen the truth about the mayor stated more exactly." Boody, in fact, was lucky not to be in jail. In July a grand jury almost indicted him. Boody had vetoed legislation that gave a railway franchise to a company that was willing to pay the city $30,000. He then transferred the franchise to a company that paid the city nothing but was made up of McLaughlin's friends. In unsealing grand jury testimony, a judge suggested that the investigation of Boody continue. As for McLaughlin, he too was having problems. The Times reported his leisure activities while on vacation, but also suggested that he was quite ill, that his power was lessening, and that successors were waiting in the wings. McLaughlin had heard all this before, of course. Exposure of corruption in the 1870s had caused him much embarrassment. After the machine candidate lost in the election of 1877, the New York Tribune said of the McLaughlin organization, "now it has been finally broken—in fact it has burst." But it was not so as McLaughlin, by controlling the nominations, continued to elect his candidates to most major positions in Brooklyn's government, including Boody as mayor in 1891. Would 1893 be different?
IV. THE PRESS GANGS UP
In early September McLaughlin returned to Brooklyn. The Times declared: "The Boss is back," brought home unexpectedly by "courtiers from the front laden with news of evil." The news came first from reform groups that were sprouting up in opposition to Boody and from the Herald, which was laying out in enterprising fashion the scandals that beset Boody's administration. Although Boody was a Democrat, organizations such as the Brooklyn Democratic Club and the Kings County Democratic Citizens Union, composed of leading business and professional men, were condemning his administration. When he was elected in 1891, the club said in a September report, it was expected that Boody would clean up city government. Instead, he "succumbed at once to the evil influences" that had beset the previous administration. From the awarding of city franchises to the operation of the schools, "sinister influences" pervade this administration, the club charged. Good-government groups arose also on the Republican side. One composed of one hundred citizens pledged to find an independent candidate—either Democrat or Republican—who could unite voters "to overthrow the ring," as one of its promoters told the Times. The leading candidate was William J. Gaynor, a lawyer and former police commissioner whose fight against a private water company and corrupt railway franchise owners had made him a Brooklyn reform legend. Eventually he became mayor of New York City. In pushing for Gaynor's nomination, one citizen told the Times, "one man, single-handed has stood out against the corrupt acts" of McLaughlin. That man was Gaynor, who was flattered but wanted a judgeship, not the mayoralty.
While the citizens were forming alliances and discussing candidates, Russell marshaled evidence against Boody and McLaughlin. On October 8, in a story that covered nearly two full pages of the Herald and included large sketches of Boody and McLaughlin, Russell wrote in biting terms about how a "cleverly managed machine" was responsible for "a long series of steals and disgraceful scandals." This impressive article mixed strong rhetoric typical of a righteous crusade with a heavy dose of facts. Russell harped on the fact that McLaughlin, "the dictator of the local democratic party," along with a group of six associates—the ring—were in complete control of Brooklyn's government. "Their power is as absolute in Brooklyn as the power of the Czar in Russia," wrote Russell. As troubling to Russell was the fact that the ring had not "the slightest responsibility to its electors."
Russell's indictment of the McLaughlin ring was threefold: they gave away city contracts to friends; they let cronies control franchises for municipal services such as the rails and electricity; and they pushed through legislation that swindled the public out of thousands of dollars. Anthony Barrett, a lawyer and one of the six ring rulers who also controlled a key Brooklyn railway franchise, was typical of the ring's largesse. "He is rich," Russell wrote, because he lives off the taxpayer. But he was not as rich as McLaughlin, whose wealth, mostly in real estate, was said to be $1.5 million. In typical sarcastic fashion, Russell wrote: "Possibly [Mclaughlin's fortune] is the result of strict economy; possibly he has found legitimate sources of income of which the rest of us have not been informed." Others didn't give Brooklyn's rulers such benefit of the doubt. A Brooklyn minister in his Sunday sermon laid it on the line: "The fact is that our Municipal Government is honeycombed with corruption," he declared. Citizens were equally frank. "I want a man (for mayor) without a boss," said one at a public meeting reported by the Times. "I am tired of the corrupt machine that rules things in Brooklyn," screamed another.
Meanwhile, Russell kept giving the angry citizens more reason to be outraged with their government. For example, on October 22 he wrote a carefully documented history of the company that controlled the city's electricity. Its president was "Bub" McLaughlin, while its owners, Russell found, were remarkably similar to "the gentlemen who rule Brooklyn from the auction room in Willoughby Street." Using the formula that would work for him in his future muckraking exposés, Russell combed thorough city contracts, read court documents, and interviewed reformers who had battled the company. He then showed how the company charged citizens more money, provided inferior service, and paid the city less than what other companies had offered. "One of the most glaring outrages that mark the maladministration of government in Brooklyn under the rule of McLaughlin and the auction room ring," Russell concluded.
With both the press and citizens squealing, McLaughlin seemed on the run. "They are saying this is a Republican year," the Times reported. "Political prediction is an exceedingly unsafe thing," Russell wrote on October 29, but he added, "revolt against ring rule is deeper and further reaching... than anybody suspected." When Gaynor refused the nomination, the Republicans chose Charles Schieren, a fifty-one-year-old German-born merchant who had made a fortune by patenting durable leather belts that could withstand the strain of high-speed electrical machinery. Schieren's greatest attributes were that he was considered an independent—no ties to the ring or political parties—and that he was independently wealthy. Facing a cheering crowd in late October, Schieren declared: "It is high time for the citizens to throw off this yoke and have a change of Government."
McLaughlin was not prepared to go down without a fight, however, and he turned to his fellow "boss," John Y. McKane, who was also Brooklyn's chief of police, to get out the vote for Boody—with legal and illegal efforts. The Times, the Herald, and the reformers moved into the last stage of their crusade: fighting the ring's attempt to bring in "floaters"—illegal voters from outside Brooklyn—to cast their votes for Boody. McKane had already been touched by Russell's pen in a particularly nasty October 1 commentary. McKane was a prominent member of a Brooklyn Methodist church, "a phase of character very laudable indeed," Russell wrote. "If only his life outside his church was more consistent with such professions there would be no cause for criticism... and no occasion for this article." This was the same refrain that the muckrakers would later apply to capitalists like Rockefeller and Andrew Carnegie. Russell blamed McKane for all the evils of his neighborhood. Asked Russell: Since he controls virtually "every movement and undertaking, public or private" in the Coney Island and Gravesend sections of Brooklyn ("a little state by the sea"), how does one explain that they are the "home and haven of every species of vice and degradation"? While the schoolchildren meet in church on Sunday mornings, McKane protects saloons, prostitutes, fakirs—and takes kickbacks from them all. What an "odd genius," Russell wrote: Sunday school superintendent and "king" of Brooklyn's dives. Ironically, Russell felt differently about McLaughlin. "Under his rule the social evil, which raged in its most repulsive forms [in Manhattan], never dared to cross the Bridge." Russell's only problem with McLaughlin: nobody chose him to govern Brooklyn.
A few days before the election, Russell used the Herald's pages to charge McKane with registering voters who were not residents of Brooklyn. "The gang in Brooklyn has no shame," Russell wrote. The Times added that the McLaughlin machine is involved in "a great deal of direct bribery, a still larger amount of indirect bribery, a good deal of bulldozing, and all the fraudulent voting that can safely be arranged for." Luckily for the forces of reform, Gaynor jumped into the fray, went into court, and accused McKane of illegally registering 6,218 voters. The judge demanded that McKane appear before him to explain. Meanwhile, Russell, a veteran of wandering through Manhattan's seedy East Side hotels, went to Brooklyn's flophouses to prove that suddenly on the eve of the election, they were being filled with illegal voters, mostly vagrants brought over from Manhattan's Bowery. Russell approached one clerk and asked why his hotel was so crowded. "With a twinkle in his eye," he told Russell that it must be the quality of service. The point was clear: the "ring" was stacking the deck for Election Day. Gaynor, who was portrayed by Russell as a hero, thanked the Herald for its efforts. "It is not partisan work but a telling battle for good government," he said.
As Election Day neared, Russell was all but gloating. "Never before in its history was the reigning family of Brooklyn so discredited in the public mind as it is to-day," he wrote on November 3. If Schieren was elected, Russell added, he would open up the Boody administration's records, and surely Sing Sing Prison would beckon for the McLaughlin gang. For Russell, the election was clearly a case of truth and justice versus hypocrisy and corruption. "On the one side are the people—republicans and democrats—and on the other the reigning family and its thousands of hangers-on and would-be hangers on," he wrote. Russell's rhetoric was typical for his time. Two authors point out that "the struggle between 'bossism' and 'reform' usually appeared as a direct clash between the forces of good and evil, between corruption and purity."
The reigning family battled the reformers until the very end. The day before the election, McKane had fourteen allies of Gaynor thrown into jail without any charges against them and without the possibility of bail. The men had gone to Coney Island to copy the names of illegally registered voters when McKane, in defiance of a court order, had them arrested. "Not since the lawless era of the Tweed regime have the people... had such an illustration of utter disregard... for the courts," wrote the Times. After spending a night in jail, the men were ordered released by a state judge. The Herald and Times both headlined McKane's brazen contempt for the law.
Despite the antics of McKane and the considerable money the machine was spending in the final moments of the campaign, Russell was optimistic about victory. He spent the last days before the election talking with voters—"the plain people," he wrote. He went to Brooklyn's docks, to its sugar refineries, to its construction sites, and to the drivers and conductors of the elevated railroads. "They are aroused," he wrote. "They have a chance to topple over the throne upon which McLaughlin sits, and they are going to do it." The Times's story read more like an editorial than news. "If Brooklyn's honest men will only perform... the task which rests upon them the reign of the rogues will... reach a violent and immediate end," it declared. "If the voters of the city do their duty," the ring will disappear "like a poisonous cloud."
On election night, the Herald signaled the results of the election with a great search light from Manhattan's famous Madison Square Garden. The light told Brooklynites that Mayor Boody had been beaten by Schieren by nearly 30,000 votes. William Gaynor was elected as a state judge by 25,000 votes. "The Ring is shattered," declared the Times. Commented Mayor-elect Schieren, "I feel I owe a great debt of gratitude to the Herald." Gaynor added: "The Herald has done grand work during this campaign."
The defeat of McLaughlin's candidate was undoubtedly a victory for Brooklyn's citizens. During his two years in office, Schieren succeeded in bringing the city out of bankruptcy, the Williamsburg Bridge was planned, and a number of parks were laid out. For Russell, the victory was an affirmation that sleeping citizens could be aroused to bring about progress even when banks, saloons, and public utility companies allied against them. The great strength of the McLaughlin machine, Russell believed, had been "the chronic indifference of the average citizen." But the alliance of reformers and the press had awakened the people from their slumber. Of course, Russell was not naive enough to believe that suddenly politics had been made clean. "Only school boys and the half-witted believed that politics could ever be purified," he wrote. However, he was naive enough to believe that "the reign of King Hugh was broken that night." In this he was mistaken—or perhaps he was simply in reformer's denial. Even though McLaughlin announced his retirement after the defeat of 1893, he returned to the scene a year later—just as Russell left the Herald and moved to Joseph Pulitzer's World. In fact, McLaughlin was so much still a force in Brooklyn politics that one member of the board of education remarked that Democrats on the board did not dare to so much as vote for a janitor without McLaughlin's consent. In 1895 McLaughlin's handpicked candidate was elected as the last mayor of the city of Brooklyn. After Brooklyn merged with the rest of New York in 1897, McLaughlin's influence persisted. He essentially chose the city's chief financial officer and the Brooklyn borough president. He remained the boss of Brooklyn until 1903 when he retired from politics after forty years. One year later McLaughlin died.
The resurrection of Boss McLaughlin was not lost on Russell. Reform victories, while useful and exhilarating, were shortlived. Recalling in his autobiography the momentary win over the machine, Russell noted that some of the men elected to office under the banner of reform were soon under indictment. "The man in the street," Russell wrote forty years after the fact, "began to feel that we had exchanged a gang of crooks for a band of chumps, a state of mind all to the good for grafting, which had only retired to cover and was waiting." Nevertheless, in 1893 the fleeting nature of reform had not yet dawned on Russell; more crusades were on the horizon.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE BEST JOB AT THE WORLD
I. THE PULSE OF THE CITY
MANAGING THE CITY NEWS IN DAVENPORT, Detroit, or Minneapolis did not prepare Charles Edward Russell for what awaited him when he moved, in December 1894, from the New York Herald to the largest circulation newspaper in America, the New York World. He took over the third most important position at the newspaper, the city editor's job, replacing his old friend, Richard Farrelly, one of the "Big Four" reporters who had covered the Johnstown flood with him five years earlier. Thus Russell began a three-year stint under Joseph Pulitzer, the eccentric and demanding genius publisher who controlled every detail of his newsroom and his newspaper but who also provided important and lifelong social lessons for Russell.
At the Herald, Russell supervised a small staff covering Brooklyn. Now, suddenly he was in charge of a staff of dozens of reporters covering all of metropolitan New York, an area with a population of more than three million, larger than Paris. The events and news that emerged from a city that was wealthier than any state in America, with more people on its payroll than the U.S. Army, began anew Russell's education about America's ills—and about corporate maneuverings. He entered Pulitzer's twenty-three-story domed newsroom to find a cutthroat atmosphere, a feverish pace, and a dichotomous city. It is difficult to say which was more demanding, Pulitzer or the city.
The World was perhaps the best in the nation at covering the political scene; its inside news pages were chock full of international stories; and the editorial page was of a particularly high quality with immense influence over the governing elites. Nonetheless, city news usually dominated the World's eight-column jumbled first page. Russell was working at a newspaper that was both popular—1896 circulation: 732,579—and important. The explanation, in part, was that the World's city news always traveled the high and low roads of journalism at the same time, socially conscious one moment and sensational and juicy the next, a Pulitzer formula for success and a tack that Russell often followed in his own writing. On April 23, for example, the World showed its typical enterprise by protecting the interests of its readers with a detailed story on the newly emerged "ice trust" that was jacking up prices to consumers. "Competition is dead," it declared about the new monopoly, a constant theme not only of Pulitzer but also of the Gilded Age, during which the Sherman Anti-Trust Act was passed. On a nearby page the World told how the state legislature, bowing to popular demand, was reducing the price of rail fares in Manhattan. On the same pages, however, it reported in grisly detail how a twelve-year-old boy was mangled, his limbs severed, in a trolley crash, and how an unknown woman was found murdered under a stairway. For a laugh, readers could peruse stories like "Corpse in a Rum Cask." The World reported that a ship captain had brought into port a man who died at sea and was preserved in a barrel of rum. Should the barrel be considered an import or a casket? the newspaper asked.
The pace and energy of the city was both exhilarating and exhausting for Russell. Typical was May 5, 1896, a Tuesday, when "Iron-faced Charley," as he was known to his reporters, came to work and had to face the following news: in Brooklyn a woman died when she was hit by lightning while four others were dead in an apartment fire. In Manhattan horses rampaged through Central Park when their carriages collided. Further downtown three people were seriously hurt when a streetcar ran them over. Uptown, a baby ate rat poison and was near death. On the West Side of town a man killed his partner by accident at a rifle range, while at the nearby Hudson River one fisherman was dead and another lost when their boat capsized. Over on Staten Island a woman was buried alive, while in Queens two bodies were found—one mutilated and the other burned to death. Lastly was a sensitive race story. A watchman on Thirty-fifth Street and Fifth Avenue taunted a group of black men. "Only dead niggers are good ones," he reportedly said. The blacks threw bricks at him, and he fired his gun at them. The blacks then drew razors and almost lynched him until the police arrived and intervened. The watchman and one black man were hospitalized, but no one was arrested. The World put it on page one.
Quickly, after many such days, Russell began to understand: Davenport, Iowa this was not. To make matters worse, he had to deal with Pulitzer, the Hungarian immigrant who believed in pitting his editors against each other to raise their competitive creativity—and their blood pressures. As a Pulitzer biographer notes: "One formula that seems to stand the test of time is to assemble a group of first-class newspaper men and let them fight it out." The result, of course, was back-stabbing and in-house competition. "You have to keep a sharp watch on your desk and chair," the biographer reported. "If you go out to lunch, some other editor is apt to be sitting in your place when you return." About the job of city editor Russell consequently concluded, in his understated way, "It is a task likely to keep [one] from falling asleep at his desk."
When his day was ended, usually after twelve or more hours, Russell, usually very tired, went out to eat with his best friend in the newsroom, David Graham Phillips, who, like Russell, was from the Midwest (Indiana), reared in a Protestant household, educated in the East (Princeton), and schooled in the ways of journalism in the Heartland (Cincinnati) before coming to New York as a reporter. The two met when Phillips was a reporter at the New York Sun. Both were dandy dressers with similar political instincts and were lovers of literature. Russell wanted to become a poet; Phillips a novelist. At times, with the day behind them, they sat at the Mouquin Restaurant in downtown Manhattan and clashed in a friendly way over literature: Russell, the idealist, saw uplifting possibilities in the world around him. Phillips, who would write twenty-six novels and become one of America's most popular writers, was a realist, and what he saw often made him despair. What they agreed on, however, was that journalism was only a stepping stone—a way to get enough money to be free to write.
II. MURDER, MAYHEM, LITERATURE
Russell had worked the streets of New York City long enough to know that it was a fertile ground for fascinating stories, the kind that the masses loved to read. "Whether truth is stranger than fiction I do not pretend to say," Russell commented about the news coming his way in his years as city editor, "but I know it is better than fiction." So, to Pulitzer's delight, Russell pushed his staff to find bizarre and interesting man-bites-dog stories that abound in every big city.
In April 1896, for example, the World reported in detail the story of a seventeen-year-old who, while being chased by the police, was apparently killed by a trolley. When his father arrived to identify the boy at the morgue he held the boy's head; it was warm. He opened his eyes and said, "Pop, oh pop." Screaming, the father called for a doctor, but it was too late. The boy died in his arms. Why, the World asked, had the police declared the boy dead when he wasn't? A few weeks later, the World returned to the morgue to ask readers for help: a finger found on a sidewalk in Manhattan was in the morgue, awaiting an owner. "Who Wants a Finger?" a headline asked. Russell's reporters found a millionaire merchant who hired a hypnotist in hopes that he could be cured of blindness, a story that surely interested the nearly blind Pulitzer, who had the newspaper read to him each and every day by his secretary. No hypnotist, however, could help the man who smoked ten packs of cigarettes a day and ended up in an insane asylum in Brooklyn. And no hospital could help a Boston lawyer who, drunk, fell into the Harlem River. When the tide came in at 5:00 A.M., the man drowned.
Domestic disputes and suicides were common on Russell's cityside pages. Some of them were comical. A woman stumbled into a Brooklyn police station with a knife in her skull. Her husband confessed, sort of. "I—I cut her a little on the head," he said, after accusing his wife of being a drunkard and a bad mother. At least the woman was better off than the four wives of the German barber who, in order to collect life insurance, killed them all. Police were exhuming the body of Wife Number Four, the World reported in an exclusive story that was typical in its self-promotion.
The World liked juicy divorces, too. In "Mrs. Frank Peeped In," Russell's staff reported how the mother of a young bride trapped her husband, a doctor, while he made love to his patients. Climbing a ladder, she peeped in on him while females visited. Then, while he was in the act, she barged into the office with a neighbor. A story with a good old-fashioned sex angle always interested Pulitzer and Russell—and readers. Russell made sure, however, that his stories, juicy as they might be, never went too far. As historian George Juergens points out, "The evidence is overwhelming that the World did not achieve its great circulation by defying contemporary convention, but by going only so far as convention allowed."
Pulitzer had no qualms about printing stories that dealt with sex and scandal because he felt they could be purposeful and they drew the audience he needed. "Of course, newspapers are 'made to sell,'" Pulitzer once wrote, "and in that respect they resemble the highest work of art and intellect as well as the sermons preached in pulpits." That was a lesson that Russell, grandson of a preacher and son of crusading editor, found attractive—the newspaper as a moral force, even when it exposed sordid personal scandal. "Sinners do not shrink from vice," Pulitzer wrote at another point, "but they are awfully afraid of exposure in the newspapers. No pulpit orator can reach the evil-doer like a... newspaper with a quarter of a million of readers."
Politicians would come in for their share of exposure on the pages assembled by Russell and Pulitzer, but so too would the unelected power brokers. The World was downright preachy about the extramarital relationship of a prominent realtor who was a pillar of a Manhattan Baptist church. Just as Russell had attacked a churchgoing but corrupt Brooklyn politico while at the Herald, the World went after the realtor as a way to reveal character—or the lack of it.
Since Russell left no diaries and wrote little of his days managing the World newsroom, it is difficult to determine how much of the city pages were truly his creations. Nonetheless, Russell took credit for much of what appeared on the city pages. The city editor, he declared, "is the real captain of the ship, the only person in the establishment that has any real power." Editorial writers—at the World these included his old boss George Cary Eggleston and eventually Phillips—"emit great thoughts," but only the proofreader is interested in what they write, Russell said, mockingly. The managing editor, a job he took eventually with Pulitzer's archenemy, William Randolph Hearst, "is largely a figure of ornament." And forget the business manager: he "consorts with the powers of evil" (the advertisers), said Russell. That meant for Russell that the city editor was most important, but only "if he knows his business and has the others properly cowed."
He could not cow Pulitzer, however. One fall, when a steamship arrived in New York and reported that passengers had contracted cholera, the World was ready to tell New York that the ship was under quarantine to prevent an epidemic. A city health officer told Russell that printing the news would be bad for the city's business; Russell rebuked him. But forty-five minutes later he backed off, carrying an order from Pulitzer: kill the story. Compliantly, Russell recalled, "we forgot it," as did every other New York City newspaper. Russell was tougher with his own reporters than with the business staff, however. Ivy Lee, who later became famous as a public relations counsel to John D. Rockefeller, worked for Russell at the World and recalled him as "very strict and sometimes forbidding."
In most newsrooms, the editor who assigns stories, as Russell did, determines much of what readers see on a daily basis. But reporters who are more closely in touch with events than editors also regularly bring story ideas to editors. Consequently the creativity and social sense of reporters are vital. Russell wanted his reporters to be "artistic craftsmen." He believed that "far more surely than the dramatist or the novelist the reporter can hold the mirror up to nature." Surely he echoed Pulitzer, who wrote in the World, "The daily journal is like the mirror—it reflects that which is before it." Russell put together a staff that he felt was the best ever assembled, a distinct possibility since Pulitzer had been raiding other newsrooms for a decade and paying hefty salaries to lure reporters. Joining Phillips on the staff was Maximillian Foster, later a widely read short-story writer and novelist; Rudolph Block, writer of popular ghetto stories under the pseudonym Bruno Lessing; famous short-story writers Marie Manning, Anne O'Hagan, Jacob Dreyfus, and Hartley Davis; Arthur Greaves, who became city editor of the New York Times, and Alexander Kennealey, later editor of the London Mirror; playwright Bayard Veiller; and highly regarded critics Charles H. Meltzer, E. F. Coward, and Oliver Howard Dunbar. Arthur Brisbane, who had covered the state's electrocutions with Russell three years earlier, was also on the city staff, the only reporter under Pulitzer who was allowed to sign his articles. Brisbane wandered the city on special assignments.
Russell was a keen judge of talent, an important quality for a general in deploying his troops. His first official act as city editor, in fact, was to take Phillips, who became his inseparable companion, away from the "key-hole" type of reporting that he so despised. Although Phillips had some notable scoops as a news reporter, he was better suited to crafting fine, descriptive stories—human interest features—that showed off his emerging literary skill. Russell had Phillips rewrite news gathered by other reporters—a common task for the "rewrite" editor—and his stories produced a sensation in New York. On Thanksgiving Day in 1895 he assigned Phillips to write a moving portrait of seventy-six men, women, and children who awaited death in a Bronx hospice. "Death, We Salute Thee!" won raves for Phillips.
Russell felt, and rightly so, that editors were the guiding forces behind not only what became news, but for how stories were written. "As a painter before his easel so sits every day the city editor before the paper he is to make," Russell said. The city editor, he declared, "is an artist." In his early years at the job—before yellow became the paper's dominant color—he blended a variety of news into what he felt was "the highest type of literature." Indeed, many stories on Russell's pages are written in a compelling storylike style. Like any good story, they lead the reader to reach a particular conclusion at the story's climax. A debonair swindler who duped women into marriage was really a notorious criminal, and the World told the tale like a short story, leading up the swindler's confession. A short heart-wrenching story of five-year-old girl living in a Queens mansion was typical. When the girl's nightgown caught fire while she played near a coal stove, she was badly burned. A nurse found her "enveloped in the most cruel embrace that a mortal ever knew," screaming, "the cruel fire licking her limbs." When the fire was put out, her body was rubbed with oil and wrapped in softest down. "Save her life!" cried her wealthy father, "and take all I have." But, the World reported as the reader reached the story's final paragraph, "at a late hour last night the message came that Little Joyce was dying." Not an eye was dry in New York City.
In similar heart-wrenching style, the World told of the Ryers, an old and feeble couple on Staten Island, who had their only pennies—$3.35, to be exact—stolen from them one evening by thieves who ignored the fact that they were crippled and poor. Replete with detailed dialogue—"Be quick about it," one thief yelled, "or you'll soon be smoking in hell"—the story ends with police inspecting a bloodstained shutter where the thieves escaped the house. Instead of using the modern technique of a summary lead, which gives away the ending as the story begins, the World used a more traditional storytelling fashion. This was not something that was invented at the World, certainly, but its reporters were quite good at building drama, and Russell encouraged this. As a historian who has studied the World's news pages commented, "The emphasis on crime and tragedy was not in itself a unique way of attracting readers. The World's triumph is that it did it so well."
III. FIGHTING FOR THE PEOPLE
New York City gave Russell the artist a marvelous easel on which to paint, and with the staff that he and Pulitzer had assembled Russell had a vast storehouse of color combinations at his fingertips. He used them often to coax the kinds of stories that pulled in readers, but he used them also to crusade and fight for the immigrants, the poor and the plain folk who were the World's special parishioners.
In an editorial in the World, Joseph Pulitzer wrote: "The World attributes its success not only to its news and conceded ability but to its principles and conviction." That being the case, Russell was the perfect man for Pulitzer's newspaper. His disdain for excess wealth and unelected power and his belief in holding elected officials accountable were developed before he took over as city editor. But as city editor he got the chance to put these principles into practice. The Pulitzer-Russell pages embraced the poor, mocked the blue-blooded wealthy, and crusaded especially against the emerging plutocratic monopolies that many felt were threatening democracy.
What's clear from looking at a sample of the city pages over the three-year period that Russell was city editor is that one issue, above all, dominated Pulitzer and Russell's minds—and the American consciousness as well. That issue was the "trusts," the monopolies that had begun to control commerce ever since the Civil War. Between 1867 and 1897, eighty-six new industrial combinations were formed with an amassed capital of $1.4 billion. Names that typified the American Dream and Nightmare—Rockefeller, Carnegie, Gould, Harriman, Armour—were etched into the public consciousness. The new captains of industry wielded economic power that not only threatened entry into the marketplace but loomed large over the political landscape as well. The government, however, was neither ready nor able to combat the likes of the big companies. The federal Sherman Antitrust Act (1890) was the government's official albeit feeble attempt to thwart monopoly. But the law lacked teeth and enforcement personnel, and the government's lawyers were hardly a match for the capital and resources of, for example, John D. Rockefeller's Standard Oil.
As for a public that had been schooled in the ways of an open marketplace and decentralized power (whether in government or commerce), the economic changes brought on by monopoly were alarming. The large industrial combination was an anomaly in nineteenth-century America. Thus, Pulitzer and the press jumped into the vacuum to help frame the public's view—and to sell newspapers. Pulitzer and Russell must have known that this seeming threat to middle-class security—on both local and national levels—would pique the reading public.
While Russell was still working for the rival Herald, Pulitzer began his assault on the trusts. Russell's best friend, David Graham Phillips, was assigned in April 1893 to investigate, as Phillips wrote, "the unholy alliances of bandits who prey unmolested upon the people... poisoning the whole atmosphere" of trade and commerce. The Lead Trust. The Whiskey Trust. The Copper Trust. The Rubber Trust. It is, Phillips wrote, "an amazing story of unscrupulousness" by "bands of robber barons." For twelve days and with 35,000 words Phillips pleaded for government action, ending his articles each day with a demand to the U.S. Attorney General Richard Olney to enforce the Sherman Anti-Trust Act: "Such, Mr. Olney, are the facts. And here, sir, is the law."
By 1895, with little movement taking place toward controlling the trusts on a national level, Pulitzer turned his pages to the urban scene where Russell's city pages went after the "telephone octopus," the ice trust, and then the rail and trolley magnates who were monopolizing the city's commuting lines. Using language and approaches that were remarkably similar to what Russell would employ when he became a magazine muckraker a decade later, the World employed a bit of history to show how the trusts had developed, some plain language (often without facts) to show how bribes were used to influence regulatory legislation, and outright editorial conclusions (even in news stories) to demand changes.
In short, the World under Russell continued what Pulitzer had been doing successfully in both St. Louis, where he had his first newspaper, and New York—crusading for change. For both social and readership reasons, JP, as he was called, insisted on always having a crusade in his newspaper. "It is Mr. Pulitzer's wish to have constantly on hand and waged vigorously a campaign, crusade or battle directed on proper lines; this is a fixed principle," an undated memo in the Pulitzer Papers notes.
The need for unified and reasonably priced municipal utility services—water, gas, electric, transportation—had become evident in urban areas such as New York and Chicago where services had grown in fragmented and confusing ways. A patchwork of different companies often controlled different parts of the cities. Water, gas, and trolley service—all could be supplied by a half-dozen or more companies in the same city. Even though consolidation was a logical development, logic and efficiency often did not dictate changes. The lust for monopoly that would, in turn, lead to big money and big profit did.
In the winter of 1895 a bill was pending in the New York State legislature, supported heartily by the World, that would strictly control telephone prices and the profits that the "telephone octopus" could make. As it covered legislative hearings and pointed out discrepancies in testimony by American Bell Telephone Company officials, the World was urging its passage. At the same time, its reporting warned that "boodle" from the lobbyists for American Bell was resulting in "wholesale bribery" of lawmakers, threatening the people's interests. "There is more money at Albany this year than ever before," the World reported, and the capital is "reeking with corruption." In the next week, the World attacked two more trusts. Headlines warned of the "Electric Trust Now" (March 23) and the "Whiskey Trust's Crimes" (March 27).
Although no names were mentioned, "an honest member" of the state assembly from Brooklyn told the World how behind the scenes money was moving all around to influence voting. Could the assemblyman have been one of Russell's old Brooklyn sources from his Herald days and the crusade against "Boss" McLaughlin? The "bosses," after all, were in the center of the corruption, the World reported, adding, "A corporation which wants legislation or wants to be protected against legislation makes his bargain with the bosses of the political parties." "Boss" Richard Croker of New York was the main benefactor of the trust's largesse, the World charged. The real issue, however, as Russell and Pulitzer saw it, in a harbinger of what reformers would argue consistently after the turn of the century, was that monopoly was not only corrupting politics but was forcing higher costs on the people. "It is because of its absolute ownership of the subways and of its control of all subways that will be built for the next two years that the monopoly exists," the World pointed out. "Competition is impossible."
The same theme ran through a crusade that Russell's city pages mounted in the spring of 1896 against the Ice Trust, a group of companies that joined together to control delivery of an essential ice-box ingredient. When the price of ice rose, just as the warm season was upon the city, the World investigated rumors that local companies had consolidated. Russell sent a reporter to track down company presidents, who, miffed at the spotlight, rebuffed the reporter. Two were too busy to talk, one denied mergers were taking place, and another told the reporter to get lost: "That is a private matter. I decline to make my private matters public."
The hand of Russell the editor is all over this story. Much as Russell would do later in his muckraking work, the story detailed the companies' stock histories and the various mergers that had come close to creating a loose but clear common ownership. "The law," the World concluded, "is very easy of evasion." Pulitzer and Russell wanted their parishioners to know: "Competition is dead." And the result? "Everyone will pay the piper." The World had a simple solution—enforce the existing law, and then the only question will be, "How soon will it be broken up?"
In late April 1895, the thinking of Pulitzer and Russell was evident in a page one cartoon. A steer, representing the beef trust, was goring a person carrying a sword embazoned "U.S." Leering in the bullfighting ring were the steel, gas, coffee, fish, cordage, oil, lead, telephone, sugar, and whiskey trusts. "If the beef trust escapes unpunished," a headline blared, "then we shall see the other giant monopolies in the arena." The next day in a page-one story on the leather trust, the World warned: The "iron grip" of the trusts is upon us
The trust problem defied an easy solution and in fact it would not be until nearly a decade later that the federal government—in part because of Russell's magazine exposés—would move aggressively into court to block trust abuses. But on a local level, Pulitzer-Russell and the World were able to exert more influence, with an activism that would shock even contemporary advocates of "civic" journalism. At the same time that Russell's reporters were exposing various activities in the city, Pulitzer's lawyers were going into court seeking injunctions to block the activities that were being exposed. The Pulitzer press was an independent force, protecting the people's interests when government failed to do so. "Oh, damn the World," declared Alderman Charles A. Parker. "That cursed paper is always investigating something or somebody."
Stuntgirl Nellie Bly, for example, famous for her exposé of prison conditions in New York City and her seventy-two-day trip around the world, spiced the World's city pages with a visit to Abdullah, the mind reader. "I hate frauds as much as I hate death," declared Bly (real name Elizabeth Cochrane), who in a long and comical tale showed the mind reader to be a fraud. More serious were frauds the World uncovered in the office of the Manhattan district attorney. A detailed story showed how private agents who received large amounts of cash—"ready money," the World called it—negotiated bail for the accused. No charge of dishonesty or graft was made, but "questionable practices" in the DA's office made clear that "reform is needed."
Pulitzer, known as the schoolmaster in the newsroom, was undoubtedly tutoring Russell in a basic lesson of his version of how democracy can work. "There is not a crime, there is not a dodge, there is not a trick, there is not a swindle, there is not a vice which does not live by secrecy," Pulitzer advised. "Get these things out in the open, describe them, ridicule them in the press, and sooner or later public opinion will sweep them away." It was a credo that the muckrakers would adopt in just a few years.
When the mere rousing of public opinion was not enough, the World took matters in its own hands, becoming activist in ways that defied neutrality. The World's lawyers went so far as to go into court seeking injunctions against those whom they saw as the bad guys. In Russell's final few months as city editor, the World mounted two vigorous new crusades, the first against companies it saw as "grabbing" the trolley and rail franchises, and the second against the city government for its inept upkeep of the city's streets. And it made some enemies in the process. When it investigated Alderman Parker, who it claimed was giving away the city's rail franchises for bribe money, he told a World reporter: "If I knew the man who has written some things about me for that paper I would break his neck. Yes, I would break every bone in his body."
No wonder Parker was angry. The World's cityside reporters had uncovered a juicy story. The owners of a Manhattan rail line wanted not only to renew their franchise agreement—its contract and license—with the city. The company wanted the contract in perpetuity: a monopoly forever. Tammany Hall, which controlled local politics, had told the city's alderman to vote in favor of the franchise renewal because the World learned the company had secretly offered to give big contributions to the Republicans in the upcoming election. Enter the World's lawyers, who sued in court and received an injunction. Throughout the fall months, the World kept up the pressure. Citizens lauded the World's efforts (September 29: "Whole World Praises the World") while the alderman grumbled about the publicity. The president of the Third Avenue rail syndicate, which was exposed and halted in its bid, gave a World reporter a remarkably candid interview, outlining what the targets of muckraking often said about their enemy, the press.
Reporter: "Well, Mr. [P. H.] Flynn, what do you think about the World's injunction against this franchise grab?"
Flynn: "Oh, yes, 'grab' you call it, and I must take all the blame, I suppose. What do I think? Why I think it is a———outrage. What business has the World to mix up in this matter?"
Reporter: "All the newspapers agree a perpetuity would be wrong."
Flynn: "This is all very well, but I tell you all the newspapers are alike. They are always poking their way into matters that do not concern them. There is altogether too much of this business. All the newspapers are alike. They are no good. It is not the newspaper's business to mix up in such things."
Then Flynn let loose with a series of profanities.
There was no Pulitzer-Russell response to Flynn in that day's World, just an unceasing attack on the franchise grab and an even fiercer attack on how the city was or was not maintaining its streets. "The World lays bare the secret of torn-up streets," it blared one day, following up with a look at how the city fumbled and stumbled in repairing street surfaces. Showing the paper's enterprise and activism, Russell then hired the chief engineer of Philadelphia to inspect New York's streets. He was "astonished and surprised" at the "inexplicable" poor condition of New York streets. The World laid the blame squarely at the feet of the man in charge. No mincing words for the World.
Pulitzer knew and taught Russell that "the success of a journal must depend on its character... an earnest, vigorous advocacy of the public welfare, a sincere devotion to the cause of good government and public virtue and a fearless and unceasing warfare against all fraud, sham, dishonesty." Of course, Pulitzer also must have known that as 1897 was drawing to a close an entry into New York, a rival who would try to top every crusade and exposé his paper mounted, would make it increasingly difficult to maintain his high journalistic ideals. A dark cloud was gathering over New York journalism, over all of journalism in fact; and Russell, a coveted and talented editor, and a man of principle, like Pulitzer, would get caught in the storm that was bursting and would drag everyone down into the gutter.
Nonetheless, for Russell, the excitement of overseeing coverage of New York City was the noblest and most exciting time of his newspaper years. "The best job on earth," he declared, "is that of city editor of a New York daily. Other employments are but rubbish in comparison." And yet, with money and a greater opportunity dangling in front of him, Russell would soon leave the best job he ever had.
CHAPTER SIX
HEARST, YELLOW JOURNALISM, CHICAGO
I. PARTING WITH PULITZER
JOSEPH PULITZER WAS NO STRANGER TO NEWSPAPER RAIDS. After all, in 1893 he had raided Charles A. Dana's New York Sun to steal the promising writer and young dandy David Graham Phillips, who became a famous feature writer for Pulitzer. In fact, stealing Phillips for the New York World's staff must have given Pulitzer great pleasure. When Pulitzer entered New York journalism, Dana had publicly mocked him, poking fun at his big nose and his Jewish heritage. The old master Dana and the upstart Pulitzer clearly did not like each other as they engaged in a nasty and very public feud. But Pulitzer did not confine his raids just to Dana's paper. He went after talent wherever he saw it. In 1888 he had turned to James Gordon Bennett Jr.'s New York Herald to steal away Charles Edward Russell and make him the World's city editor. Over the long haul neither the Herald nor the Sun, the one-time circulation leaders of New York City journalism, could withstand the Pulitzer raids. Pulitzer's innovative and aggressive brand of journalism, his appeals to the poor and the city's burgeoning immigrant population, his consistent crusading for the underdog, his newspaper's lucid and easy-to-read writing, and his uncanny knack for promoting his paper's scoops, coupled with his aggressive stealing of talent, all combined to make the World the new king of New York City journalism. By the end of 1895, the techniques that Pulitzer had perfected, which became known as the "new journalism," had enabled him to outpace all competition. The World was reaching 450,000 people, an unheard of number. But what goes around comes around, as Pulitzer was soon to learn.
The first real indication that the bubble was soon to burst for Pulitzer, Russell, and the World came in January 1896. A new kid in town, William Randolph Hearst, had invaded New York and was doing everything he possibly could to imitate Joseph Pulitzer's success—including stealing his staff. "There was every expectation in New York's newspaper community that Hearst would fail... miserably," writes Hearst biographer David Nasaw. Hearst, who had a stockpile of money behind him from his father's mining fortune, first entered the news business in San Francisco, where he turned the Examiner into a success with a Pulitzer-like crusading and sensational newspaper. But like Russell and other eager journalists, the thirty-two-year-old wunderkind decided he needed to do better to make his mark on the world stage, increase his fortune, and enhance his political credentials. The only way to do that was to go to New York. Hearst bought the lowly New York Journal in the fall of 1895. Then, from across the continent, he dragged his stalwart staff—among others, the acerbic reporter Alfred Henry Lewis, the sob sister Annie Laurie, and his brilliant genius managing editor Sam Chamberlain—and installed them in the Journal's Park Row offices, just opposite the World's gilt-domed building that towered over newspaper row in lower Manhattan. As a Pulitzer biographer put it, "There was about Hearst the air of a precocious, unpredictable, slightly raffish adolescent taking the measure of an aging and ailing rival."
Hearst was ready to begin the war that soon turned into the famous "yellow journalism" phase of American newspapers—and plunged Charles Edward Russell into the thick of an experience that surely had his father, the principled editor, turning over in his grave. Hearst struck the first blow with the Sunday supplement to his newspaper. Publishing a Sunday newspaper was a relatively new phenomenon in journalism, and it quickly proved to be a big moneymaker. Advertisers from the new urban department stores flocked to the various supplements, as did readers. With time on their hands on leisurely weekend days, they pored over the features that became a part of the sections devoted to murder mysteries, pseudo-science, sports, and women's issues. Readers especially liked the comic strips, another innovation and regular feature in Pulitzer's paper since 1889. R. F. Outcault's "Yellow Kid," a toothless, grinning tenement urchin living in "Hogan's Alley," was the most popular of the comic characters. The "funnies" section was the innovation of Sunday editor Morrill Goddard, a Dartmouth graduate who had been with Pulitzer for nine years. Under the direction of the thirty-year-old Goddard, the Sunday edition had soared from a circulation of 266,000 in 1893 to 450,000 in 1895. Hearst wanted Goddard for the Journal, but Goddard did not want to leave behind his loyal and talented staff. So Hearst, in one of his lavish spending sprees, told Goddard to bring over his entire staff, which he did. Pulitzer, not to be outdone, had his business manager and trusted aide S. S. Carvalho make a counteroffer. Goddard took the offer, and he and his Sunday staff returned to the World... but only for twenty-four hours. Hearst opened his checkbook once again and stole Goddard back. No surprise there, of course, since Hearst's largesse is estimated to have increased salaries by twenty five percent in New York City. As Hearst business manger Charles Palmer said to a visitor, "Oh, we don't bother about money around here. Open any closet and you'll smell... [it] burning."
Pulitzer was furious. He vowed to sink the newcomer in the same way he had overtaken Bennett and Dana. But Hearst was different from Pulitzer's previous rivals: for one thing his pocketbook had no bottom. Eventually he spent $8 million of the Hearst fortune before he turned a profit. He was also good at imitating and even outdoing Pulitzer in the innovative journalism that Pulitzer had pioneered. Moreover, Hearst had a keen sense of what the people of fin-de-siecle America seemed to want. Nasaw points out that "the Hearst papers articulated [America's] 'vulnerability, unease, and anger' more powerfully and persistently than any other public medium in the 1890s." In February 1896, Pulitzer upped the ante by dropping the price of his newspaper to one cent, a move that Hearst felt played into his hands. "Smelling blood, Hearst moved in for the kill," comments Nasaw.
Both Hearst and Pulitzer were millionaires, but Pulitzer was self-made while Hearst's fortune was inherited (actually on loan from his mother) and his pockets deeper than Pulitzer's. At some point, Hearst felt that Pulitzer would not be able to withstand the money—or the staff—losses. A second telling blow came in the winter of 1896. Pulitzer, who paid good salaries and was thoughtful in honoring valued personnel, decided to hold a birthday banquet in honor of Richard Farrelly, his managing editor. Russell had replaced Farrelly as city editor when Farrelly took over as the World's top editor. But the night before the banquet, Farrelly received an offer from Hearst to join the Journal staff. To Pulitzer's shock, Farrelly took the offer. "Farrelly has gone over to the enemy," an aide told Pulitzer. "To Gush?" he asked using his secret code name for Hearst. Pulitzer canceled the dinner party.
Since no letters or diaries from Russell's years working for either Pulitzer or Hearst are available, it's difficult to know what he was thinking as this battle of titans took place. He commented in one memoir written in 1914 that he viewed Pulitzer as "the unequaled wizard and wonder worker" of journalism. In that same memoir he wrote how his time as city editor under Pulitzer was special, during which he learned to appreciate the craft of journalism. But it was also a time that gave him pause as he watched unfold what a top Pulitzer aide called "the most extraordinary dollar-matching contest in the history of journalism." The World newsroom was never a calm or easy place to work in. Activity was always feverish, perhaps reflecting the feverish conditions of New York City. Pulitzer believed in creative tension in his newsroom, and he was increasingly a very difficult man to work for. His eyesight had largely failed, and aides had to read him the newspaper. His sensitive hearing made him recoil at even the sound of slurping soup. He changed top editors at the drop of a hat. As Russell recalled it, the World "was conducted for a time by a procession of managing editors that walked in at the front door, got out an issue or two, disappeared in the rear, and were seen no more." Even more problematic, however, was the condition of unrest bred by the "yellow journalism" fever brought on by the Pulitzer-Hearst rivalry.
First and foremost, of course, was what the competition did to the content of the World. Competition normally has a positive effect on the quality and price of products. But in the news business, it often drives journalists into the gutter in search of titillating news that will lure readers. "Your yellow journalist," commented Willis J. Abbot, an editor for Hearst, "can work himself into quite a fiery fever of enthusiasm over a Christmas fund or a squalid murder, as over a presidential campaign. He sees everything through a magnifying glass and can make a first-page sensation out of a story which a more sober paper would dismiss with a paragraph inside." Russell called it a "species of blackmail." Nonetheless, this fiery fever overtook the World's newsroom and brought with it espionage and secrecy more befitting an intelligence agency. After Pulitzer dropped the price of his paper to one cent, he put into place an elaborate system of codes so that he could communicate with his staff without Hearst intercepting his messages. Thus, Pulitzer (nickname: Andes) could send a note to top editor Arthur Brisbane (Horace) asking whether the circulation (Curate) of his morning edition (Genuine) had increased. More importantly, he wanted to know, was the Sunday World (Genuine) making a profit (Mental)? To top editor Don Seitz (Gulch), he wondered, was there any chance that Hearst (Medusa or Gush or Magnetic) would try next to steal his city editor (Grandam)? Weren't Russell (Gabion), David Graham Phillips (Gumboil) and "Horace" all close friends who would remain loyal? The answer, unfortunately for Pulitzer, was no. In the fall of 1897 Medusa struck again; this time he went after "Gabion" and Horace. The prevailing story on Park Row, where all the newspapers were housed, was that newsmen awaited the day that they would receive a business card with the enclosed statement: "Mr. Hearst would be pleased to have you call." This meant that Hearst was about to offer a job. The card came to Russell in the summer of 1897.
Russell accepted the offer, leaving the World and joining the Journal in October ostensibly as a managing editor, a term that was applied to any number of editors. It was unclear exactly what his duties would be. Fellow Pulitzer editor Brisbane, whom Russell had met many years before when both were reporters covering electrocutions in New York, tried to talk Russell out of jumping ship. The two huddled at Brisbane's Hempstead, Long Island, estate that summer.
"Charlie, don't be a fool," said Brisbane.
"What makes you think I'm a fool? Hearst is giving me more than Pulitzer did."
"It's not the question of money alone," said Arthur. "You've got to take a long view on this matter. Both of us are young. We've gone far but we can't afford to spoil our future."
They argued hour after hour. Brisbane was eloquent and logical and had Russell almost convinced that he had made a mistake. Russell recalled: "At one point he tried to clinch the argument by stating 'Such an unknown upstart can never succeed here in New York. Why, just look at the difference in the heads of Pulitzer and Hearst. Jo Pulitzer has a head as long as that of a horse. Compare it with Hearst's! Then you'll realize how obvious it is that Pulitzer will lick Hearst in short order. Quit your job as soon as possible and return to your position with us. Remaining for any length of time with that California millionaire is plainly a case of journalistic suicide.'" But Russell could not be convinced to stay with Pulitzer. Ironically, six weeks later, Brisbane joined Russell at the Journal and became a lifelong confidante of Hearst and one of the most famous and highly paid newsmen in America. Russell's buddy Phillips did not believe that the move would be permanent. "You'll be back here," he told Russell. "You are a World man and can not keep way." Phillips was wrong. Russell stayed in the Hearst camp for many years.
Why would Russell jump ship to Hearst's Journal when, after all, Pulitzer, the schoolmaster of journalism, was such a champion of the people's causes, a man who believed in so many of the same progressive causes as did Russell? There are various possible explanations. Certainly the lure of larger salary must have been part of the reason. Hearst was offering the kind of money that was unheard of in journalism circles, even in New York. He was also offering journalists something that no one before had offered—security. He gave editors long-term contracts. With a wife and a now twelve-year-old son, Russell had to be interested in the possibility of secure employment. The move to Hearst was also a step up. He was an ambitious thirty-seven-year-old and his job as city editor was grinding and not as prestigious as that of managing editor. Thus, the move was not only for a raise in pay but a step up the journalistic ladder.
More important, however, were the working conditions under Pulitzer. He was a cranky eccentric, albeit one with progressive instincts. He gave his staff little freedom; no bylines or signed articles were allowed. Pulitzer insisted that no one's name but his be on the newspaper's masthead. Hearst offered the potential of creative freedom, as well as something else that was attractive to Russell: if Pulitzer was for the underdog, Hearst was for the under-underdog, and he had the money to back up his affection for the masses. Hearst's style of journalism—typified by the slogan "While Others Talk the Journal Acts"—appealed to the activist Russell. He worked for Hearst for six years because he had a sense that Hearst was for the people. Yes, his newspaper was sensational, yes, it was interested in suicides, sex, and scandals. But it was also enterprising, crusading, and in tune with the people's issues. How odd, of course, that Charles Edward Russell, dignified and private, so passionate about democracy, a man who loved Shakespeare and wrote poetry, an aficionado of highbrow arts, would in his professional life want to work at the most populist and sensational newspaper ever printed!
II. ENTER THE WHIRLWIND
The Journal under William Randolph Hearst is difficult to describe. Hearst editor Willis J. Abbot wrote to a friend soon after he became an editor at the Journal. "I had secured very remunerative employment in a lunatic asylum," he observed. Frantic, chaotic, hard-driving, unpredictable—those words best describe the Journal's newspages and its newsroom as it sought to overtake Pulitzer's World. Hearst's newspapers, Russell once wrote, "seem always to be shouting or roaring about something, always to be in a state of ferment and tension."14 Russell recalled vividly the first time he ever saw the tall, blue-eyed thirty-three-year-old Hearst. It was a sweltering summer afternoon in 1896; Russell was walking to his Brooklyn home when a good-looking young man, carrying a straw hat and a newspaper, came running by "at fierce speed." The man was Hearst, who had spotted an error in his newspaper and was returning to his newsroom on Park Row to make a correction. "It was typical of the man's true absorption," Russell observed. Indeed Hearst, the "mad" overseer of the asylum, was no absentee or hands-off publisher. On the contrary, he did everything but carry the lines of hot type. After dinner and the theater, Hearst, often in formal attire, would enter the newsroom. "At the sound of his well-known step on the stairs the night editor groans in spirit," Russell remembered. Hearst would roll up his shirtsleeves and take out his editor's blue pencil, reshuffling and editing the pages and putting new headlines on certain stories. "Take that out of the first page and put it on the third page. Drop the first-page cut. Reset your seven-column line in forty-eight-point Howland—it's too big."15 While Hearst made changes in a calm and methodical style, his editors would stand around, playing games and practical jokes, while they awaited "the chief's" final instructions. Day in and day out, in his early years as a publisher Hearst was directly involved in the production of his newspaper. He handpicked his staff and he assigned stories. "Despite a liberal conferring of titles," Abbot recalled, "Mr. Hearst was the only editor-in-chief of any of his papers."
The newspaper that Hearst produced, like the man, was a daily contradiction, a schizoid spray of printer's ink. On one hand, it played up every suicide, robbery, and assault that occurred in the city. Every bizarre man-bites-dog story that came along—and some that were made up—hit the front pages. News accounts were often exaggerated to fit a story line. Readers were told of a man with a sliver of steel in his head. "Brain Pierced but then Lives," blared the headline. Near it was a gruesome story of a man whose head was decapitated. The story described the head tumbling away after a trolley accident. "His Head Severed by Trolley." A few days later the big news was about a woman "Stripped Naked in the Court Room." Crime and underwear, one editor said, was the formula for success. By April 1898, as the "yellow journalism war" with Pulitzer heated up, especially over the Spanish-American War, the sensationalism only worsened. The headlines on page five on April 6, 1898 capture the Journal at the height of what Russell referred to as "the depths to which we had fallen." "Parboiled alive in bathtub" blared one. Read the others: "Demented woman's dance on roof," "Leap from hospital window," "Stabbed with scissors by barber." Hearst biographer Procter analyzed Hearst's formula: "First and foremost, stories had to be well written, the subject matter embellishing a certain shock value or appealing to baser human emotions or eliciting mystery and intrigue almost beyond human comprehension. To attract even more attention—and induce further reader inquiry—huge black headlines depicted the crux of the story together with graphic illustrations or cartoons and fantastic emotion."
If readers were looking for a steady diet of high-minded writing about public policy, the Journal was not the place to go. But if they wanted grisly crime stories, Hearst's newspaper was their home; it was obsessed with cops and robbers. As far back as the 1830s, in the "penny press" era of journalism, newspapers had discovered that crime stories were popular with readers and a key to building circulation. Russell, who had been a famous police-detective reporter at the Herald, fit in well with this aspect of the Journal. He was a veteran at hunting down clues on murder stories, and he was a perfect match for the special team of reporters Hearst had assembled to solve murder mysteries in New York. If it was a particularly big case, even Hearst joined the marauding band of reporters known as "the wrecking crew." Some of the crew would actually pose as city detectives as they interviewed witnesses and used Hearst's cash to talk reluctant sources into confiding in Journal reporters. Sometimes Hearst would hire private detectives to help solve a case or use a "reformed" murderer to write an "expert" account. Always, lurking everywhere, of course, was the dogfight with Pulitzer. If the World had ten men on a story, Hearst would assign twenty.
If it was a slow news day, the Hearst men then had to "create" news. This did not necessarily mean that they would make up stories; "yellow journalism" was more known for embellishing than fictionalizing. Sometimes Hearst's reporters found clues in murders that the police missed; at times they ballyhooed a Hearst fundraising effort. When the Journal sent urban youths off to Long Island for a summer vacation, when it raised money for victims of a fire or helped pay the heating bills of the poor in the particularly cold winter of 1896–1897, it made sure its readers knew. Part of the formula for successful "yellow journalism" was to self-promote whenever possible. After a New Year's celebration sponsored by the Journal, the paper boasted: observers "can scarcely find adjectives strong enough to express their admiration."
The activism and enterprise of Hearst's staff often took on a serious tone, and this is the side of Hearst that was most attractive to Russell, the one he fondly recalled in a 1904 magazine article he wrote about Hearst. In August 1897 a great flood hit Galveston, Texas, killings hundreds and threatening thousands. "The news reached us on one of the few nights Mr. Hearst did not come to the office," Russell remembered. "I awakened him at his house with a telephone call about three o'clock and told of the appalling magnitude of the disaster." Russell the editor was worried about getting news from a town cut off from communication. Hearst the publisher was most concerned about providing relief to the victims. Russell worried that it was too late to rouse the public and raise money for relief. "Why do you want to wait for the public? We will do it ourselves," Hearst said. Russell objected that the cost would be enormous and that the results for the newspaper would be minimal. "Never mind about the cost; never mind about the results," Hearst replied. Russell was ordered to fill trains with relief supplies sent from New York, Chicago, and San Francisco, where Hearst had newspapers. Of course, his newspapers publicized the efforts extensively. The trains reached Galveston and helped the victims. "It was magnificent," Russell declared, "but it was not journalism."
Hearst, however, was in the process of redefining journalism. Russell seemed to understand this. "The Hearst innovations in newspaper-making may be said to have revolutionized the business," he wrote. Another enterprising tactic that Russell admired was that Hearst actually hired lawyers to go into court to block New York City from pursuing certain policies or from issuing contracts that he felt were inimical to the people's interests. At a time when businesses were often in cahoots with elected officials, buying lucrative franchise contracts for transportation and other utilities, Hearst's newspaper stepped into a void as a kind of public advocate, a watchdog with bite. During Russell's first winter under Hearst, for example, the newspaper's lawyers thwarted the owners of a Brooklyn trolley company that was trying to run a track loop through Manhattan. A court had issued an injunction, but the trolley owners continued construction. Hearst's lawyer sued to enforce the injunction. "The Journal was on guard," the newspaper bragged. A few days later, the newspaper demanded that the "death loop," a dangerous curved rail line, be permanently halted. The city's bridge commissioner had the legal—and moral—power to stop construction, the newspaper insisted. But if he wouldn't act, the Journal would, Hearst promised his readers. The trolley line was halted.
The Journal's crusading in 1896 also helped prevent the installation of unneeded gas lines in the city. In the spring of 1899 Hearst's crusades continued against New York's "water trust," a monopolistic coalition that controlled citizens' water supply. What Hearst and other progressives wanted was for the city's government to manage public utilities—gas, power, coal, ice, milk, even water, all of which were controlled by the private companies. When Hearst took over the Journal, the trusts were consolidating their control over the economy. Citizens needed a voice to protect themselves from the monopolies. Enter the Journal, along with Hearst's genius for marketing and for sensing the mood of the American public. Procter points this out, writing, "Hearst was determined to identify the Journal with the people of New York. He wanted them to consider it a voice against injustice, the protector of the poor and downtrodden, the defender of the average citizen against public corruption and corporate greed." And that is where Russell fit in with William Randolph Hearst. "Rightly or wrongly," Russell said about Hearst, "he was convinced that he had a mission to fight for the weak, to represent the unrepresented, to better conditions, to protect the unprotected." Russell shared many of Hearst's progressive views, although eventually he would become more radical than his boss. Moreover, Russell was learning from "the chief," ("Mr. Hearst," as Russell called him) about how enterprising journalism could protect the people.
For Russell, the time with Hearst in New York was step three in his journalism education. His first lesson had come on the streets as a reporter, when the kid from the Midwest was introduced to poverty and crime that he had neither seen nor imagined. Russell's second lesson came at the feet of the master crusader-storyteller Pulitzer, who first compelled him to pay attention to the issue of monopoly control and from whom he first learned to muckrake. Russell then learned to take journalistic activism to a new level by watching the promotional and journalistic genius Hearst bring the Journal to new heights—and journalism to new depths. Russell learned his lessons well enough so that, in 1900, Hearst installed him as the publisher and overseer of his third newspaper in Chicago.
III. TRIUMPHS IN THE CHICAGO MADHOUSE
Historians are still trying to figure out William Randolph Hearst, who created the first chain of newspapers in America and then moved logically into magazine publishing and newsreel production. Hearst inherited and earned a fortune in his lifetime. His fabulous mansion, San Simeon, in California, typifies the extravagant wealth that was always at Hearst's fingertips; his assets at one point totaled between $200 and $400 million. His news empire presaged today's media chains and syndicates. His gluing together of entertainment and news values also foreshadowed a trend that continues to this day in the American media. The film Citizen Kane, roughly based on Hearst's life, firmly stamped an impression on the American psyche. He is undoubtedly an American legend, but he is a confusing legend, a bundle of contradictory impulses. Was he a profit-inspired scoundrel or a champion of the masses? Was he a politically ambitious media mogul or a man who worked tirelessly for progressive causes? Was he a self-important publicity hound or a quiet philanthropist? A philandering husband or public advocate of moral values? In truth, he was all of these, as much as they contradict each other. After working many years as a Hearst editor, Willis J. Abbot saw the dichotomy, concluding that his boss embodied "a bunch of contradictions." He observed, "Hearst was to me a puzzle." Russell also saw two sides to the man. "An odd sense of duality," was how he described Hearst in his flattering 1904 magazine profile. The man's newspapers were so wild, yet the man "is so quiet and modest of manner, so low of voice, of such an impeccable calm and grave, deferential courtesy, that, fresh from reading of a howling extra, the patent incongruity of maker and product" is shocking.
Russell was impressed by Hearst's intellect. "He knows men, knows affairs, knows history, and on questions of national policy he has positive opinions that he does not hesitate to declare," he said. He admired Hearst's "insatiable appetite for hard work." Unlike Hearst's detractors, Russell did not feel that either personal ambition or lust for money drove "the chief." "No man ever does anything from one motive," Russell said. Hearst's motives included "the excitement of contest, the naked joy of success, the sheer love of the business, and the allurement of the hazard." What drove Hearst most, however, was what Russell called "his idealistic notion of the mission of journalism," their shared belief that the newspaper could and should be an important and progressive force.
If journalism was in the end a noble calling, how could Russell explain away the excesses of yellow journalism for which Hearst is largely responsible? Russell simply felt that Hearst was doing what was logical and necessary in the increasingly urban-centered world of 1890s journalism: making money in order to give his newspaper influence. "A newspaper without profits is a newspaper without influence, position, standing or use in the world," Russell wrote in a magazine. This statement shows how much Russell had accepted the need to sensationalize, when necessary, in order to succeed in a competitive newspaper market.
The notion that making a newspaper is different than other businesses is "a mere fantasy," Russell wrote. If a newspaper cannot make money, "its proper place is the junk heap, like any other hopelessly unprofitable venture." Russell was surprisingly cynical about the function of a newspaper. "Why," he asked, "are profits from newspaper-making less honorable than profits from shoe-making or rail-making?" Why does the newspaper have to take responsibility in "leading, reforming and guiding of mankind? There is nothing about a newspaper that compels its publisher to be a guardian of the public welfare." Nobody, he said, tells book publishers that they have to conduct their business for any other purpose than to make profits. A strange stance indeed for one who would soon concentrate his journalism on the sole purpose of bringing about reforms. But Russell's argument was based on reality of newspaper economics: large audiences, which are attractive to advertisers, insure profit. "From the editor-in-chief to the driver of the delivery wagon, there is and can be but one aim, one effort, one activity"—the building of a reading audience. "Circulation is success; the want of it is failure," he wrote, summing up why the plunge to yellow journalism and the sensationalism of the late 1890s had to be made. Reach a lot of people or succumb.
With that settled, Russell turned to what was necessary to build an audience. "The only way to dispose of the newspaper product is to know intimately the minds, tastes, preferences, habits, ideas and ideals of the people that consume the product," he wrote. "To sympathize with them and to understand them. What do they like?" Hearst's answer—and Russell's, seemingly—was that they like crime, scandal, and sensation mixed in with a tolerable dose of crusading and exposé journalism. But they like and need a dose of facts also, Russell added, repeating a refrain that was embraced by reformers after the turn of the century. "The average American is an exceedingly intelligent, well-informed person. Give him the facts and he can make his own opinions; and, as a rule, his thinking will be just as good as that of any self-appointed leader or editorial guide." Russell's thoughts may have been nobler than his boss's, however. Hearst was eyeing a new newspaper in Chicago, but he wanted to establish it less to give people the facts than to give the Democratic Party a partisan organ of opinion in the Midwest and to enhance his own credentials in the party.
Hearst's politics were always transparent. In his early years he was a Democrat who yearned for a place on the national stage. He got his wish eventually when he was elected twice to Congress; in 1904 he came in second for the Democratic nomination for the presidency. His two newspapers unabashedly supported William Jennings Bryan in his unsuccessful 1896 bid to defeat the Republican William McKinley. Soon after the 1898 election Hearst declared that the Journal was the national voice of the Democratic Party. Before objectivity became the profession's ideal, taking such a partisan stance was not a journalistic sin, since in 1898 newspapers still made their political preferences quite clear. But most newspapers had begun to separate their editorial and news voices; Hearst's had not.
In April 1899 the Democratic Party, seeking a strong Democratic voice in the Midwest where Republican newspapers dominated, asked Hearst to start up a new newspaper in Chicago in order to give Bryan and the Democrats a platform. Hearst turned to his mother, Phoebe, who held the purse strings to his father's fortune. She was not pleased at his request for start-up money for another newspaper. "I have been feeling greatly depressed and did not feel like writing," she confided to her financial adviser Orrin Peck as she was traveling in Europe in May 1899. "Will is insisting upon buying a paper in Chicago. Says he will come over to see me if I do not go home very soon... it is madness. I never know when or how we will break out into some additional expensive scheme. I cannot tell you how distressed I feel about the heavy monthly loss on the Journal and then to contemplate starting another nightmare is a hopeless situation. I have written and telegraphed that no argument can induce me to commit such a folly as that of starting another newspaper." Peck agreed. "As you say it is madness," he replied. "He doubtless wishes to control the press of the U.S.... It's like dashing along a mad road with runaway horses and trying to harness in another. I see the situation is most desperate and makes one simply ill."
Hearst persisted despite his mother's reservations, telling her that the Journal was soon to make a profit. He sent a telegram to Bryan about how he wanted to help the cause: "The undertaking is big and the prospect of another period of work and strain is not pleasant to contemplate. Still I am most anxious to please you and to be of service to the party. If the good accomplished would compensate for effort and expense, etc. I suppose the satisfaction of being of some value would lead me to disregard all other considerations." Hearst had only once request. He wanted the party to realize that he was starting this newspaper "for the party's sake, not for money."
Hearst sent S. S. Carvalho, Pulitzer's former trusted top aide, whom he had stolen, out to Chicago to lay the groundwork for the Chicago American, intending to publish in six weeks. The goal was to be on the streets before the Democratic National Convention in St. Louis in July. Carvalho rented an old wine-company building in a run-down neighborhood and recruited eight hundred men to work around the clock in three shifts. A huge newspaper printing press was sent by rail to Chicago. Hearst and Brisbane arrived soon after, along with a host of faithful Hearst staffers, Russell included. He installed Brisbane as his first editor, but Russell would be particularly useful. He was from the Midwest and he had covered Chicago in his early years as a freelancer for Pulitzer. For Russell, it was a bit like returning home, although his wife, Abby, continued to live at their Brooklyn apartment with their son. Hearst then carried out his normal practice of raiding the other Chicago newspapers, at times doubling and tripling the salaries of reporters, pressman, and printers. When Hearst arrived, Chicago had eight newspapers. "When the smoke cleared a few years later," one biographer noted, "some were dying, others dead, and only the imperturbable Tribune and the Daily News emerged relatively unscathed and unchanged." And true to his promise to the Democrats, Hearst had the American up and running well before the convention. The first edition hit the streets on July 4, 1900, when William Jennings Bryan sent a telegram to Chicago, giving the word to "Start the Press." He wrote to Hearst, "I am confident that a large circulation awaits the Chicago American."
Brisbane edited the American for a short while but then turned over the reins to Russell, who became the American's publisher. Finally, Russell could run his own newspaper—at least as much as any editor could run a William Randolph Hearst publication. And he had that freedom in a place that, while not quite New York, offered both a prairie sensibility and urban excitement. As the agricultural clearinghouse of the nation, with wheat packers and pork packers mingling with hordes of immigrant workers, Chicago was a great town to find news. The "queen and guttersnipe" of cities, "the cynosure and cesspool of the world," one foreign visitor called it. Loud, dirty, chaotic, growing furiously with a population of 1.7 million—a hotbed of growing industrialism. In short, it was a perfect place to find scandals, readers, and Democratic voters as well as to crusade for civic betterment, even if a bigger circulation, more profit, and political advantages were the motives.
What did a Charles Edward Russell newspaper look like? It looked much like a William Randolph Hearst newspaper—both enlightening and "yellow." The American's goal, stated an editorial written by Russell, is "to interest, to instruct, and above all to stimulate thoughtful lines of human progress." To do so, editions hit the streets all day long, in the morning, at noon, at four and five P.M. and then at ten o'clock at night. Sometimes "extras" were printed when calamities occurred. The headlines were always bold and sensational. The news pages focused on crime, natural disasters, and the bizarre. When none of those was available—and that was rare—the newspaper was sure to have gimmicks and promotions for Chicagoans. Its editorials were well-argued and generally progressive. Mix in a steady diet of crusades against local ignominies and a drumbeat of positive news about the Democratic Party and you have the American under Russell. The American office, a high-ceilinged forty-by-sixty-foot room where fifty reporters at a time usually worked, was commonly referred to as "the madhouse." Noise and confusion ruled in the newsroom. "Mingled with the clutter of telegraph instruments and typewriters, and the sounds of humming feet, were voices talking, shouting, sometimes cursing," recalled one of Russell's reporters, William Salisbury. Some of the cursing might have come from reporters who were fired at the American. "Changes in the staff took place so often that it was hard to keep track of them all," said Salisbury.
A typical news day at the American came in September when the flood hit Galveston, Texas. "Texas Death Horror May Reach 10,000" was the page one headline. All of pages two and three were devoted to the disaster. Page four featured an American crusade that was urging the city's "gas trust" to cut its prices. Other sidebar stories editorialized for municipal ownership of the gas utility, a constant theme in Hearst newspapers, whether in San Francisco, New York, or Chicago. Page six was all about labor disturbances all over the nation, with a decidedly pro-worker slant. No surprise in that; Hearst was always for the unions. Salisbury said that reporters were instructed: "If the facts don't warrant your favoring the unions, at least be neutral." Page seven had an eight-column headline about the upcoming convention of the Democrats. A story about William McKinley was buried on page ten, even though he had just given his acceptance speech for the Republican presidential nomination the previous day.
If anything was outstanding or different about Russell's American, it was the persistence of its crusades. Two were successful during Russell's months as publisher of the American. The first came about after a reporter received complaints about problems that citizens were having with their water pressure. Something was wrong with the underground pipes. James O'Shaugnessy—a "bright and young reporter," Russell said—decided with Hearstian bravado to undertake his own investigation. He hired some laborers and at a street intersection late one night and gave new meaning to the journalistic tactic of "digging up dirt." The reporter and crew dug up the roadway until they found the water pipes. Once underground, O'Shaugnessy discovered that a nearby meatpacking company that needed a heavy water supply had illegally diverted water by tapping into the pipe. On September 7, 1900, the American, in eighty-point type, filled page one with the boldfaced headline: "Water Thieves Caught!" In the following weeks the newspaper wrote ten other stories on the matter. Only one news story reported something new—that two more diversionary pipes had been found. The other stories simply repeated the previous exposé news. On November 9, the American identified Armour, the largest of the city's meat packers, as the culprit. The story appeared in the first three editions of the newspaper, but then mysteriously disappeared in the final two editions. Could the meat packers have pressured the American to quash the story? Given the paper's hostile attitude toward monopoly power, this seems unlikely. Two Hearst historians allege that his newspaper regularly gave favorable news coverage for placement of advertisements, but this seems unlikely in the water story, which was an American exclusive. The paper was relatively quiet in the next few weeks. It did not report again on the water thieves until January 14, when one of the accused confessed, and once more on January 18, when there was a conviction of one of the alleged water thieves. The American took full credit for the conviction. Frustration followed, however, because no penalties were levied against the meat packers, although the water diversion stopped. For Russell, the exposé was simply Round One against the meat packers. In a little more than three years he would return to attack the meat-packing monopoly for a national magazine.
A similar if somewhat more extensive pattern of exposé leading to crusade came in a second major series of articles, also during September and October, when Russell's American attacked the private company that was providing heating and cooking gas for Chicagoans. This crusade differed from the first: no exposé started it. Instead, the American simply declared one day that gas prices were too high and pledged to help citizens. On September 8, the newspaper offered a coupon for residents to send in to protest the high gas prices. On September 9 an exposé story reported how one company was monopolizing the gas trade in the city. Result: high prices. This was a common refrain for the American and for other reformers in American cities as they championed the cause of municipal ownership of utilities. Water, gas, ice, electricity, the rails—all should be "directed by public authority [and] ought to belong to the public," it declared in a typical editorial. In essence, the American's stance on municipal ownership was what Russell adopted on a larger scale as he began to turn toward socialism: government ownership of key industries. The American's crusade paid quick dividends. The gas company immediately announced a lowering of prices, but the American was only partly satisfied. It announced its real intention: "Municipal Ownership A Good Thing." The public, the newspaper asserted, "should own or be owned." Chicago needs municipal ownership, "and the sooner the better."
While the American was crusading for the people's issues and building its circulation in the process, its reporters were earning reputations in other ways—as the sleaziest and trickiest in the Windy City. The ways in which the American gathered the news were, to say the least, controversial. This should come as no surprise. Chicago journalism is fabled for its reportorial "monkey shines." The American often got the story first by signing up coroners, hotel clerks, hospital supervisors, and telephone operators to leak tidbits to American reporters. Sometimes its news was sensationalized greatly. William Salisbury recalled one typical episode. Two Polish immigrants who were lovers conspired to murder the husband who was interfering with their affair. The wife pushed him off a pier into the icy winter water; a tugboat crew fished him out. A reporter telephoned the details to Salisbury. The lovers confessed. Then Salisbury asked if the wife was good-looking. "No. She's a homely bat," Salisbury was told: "The lover must have been off his trolley." But the next day the American's art department had drawn a gorgeous woman to go alongside the story.
Life at the American soured Salisbury on journalism, even though he began there full of enthusiasm and believing in Hearst. After a few months on the paper, he had begun to see another side to Hearst's brand of journalism—the manipulation of sources, the exaggeration, the outright lies, the snuggling with advertisers. Salisbury finally clashed with Russell. He and three other staffers, apparently under orders from an editor, took names of clergy from the telephone book and quoted them in a story praising the American's Easter Sunday supplement without even talking to them. Indignant, many of the clergy wrote letters threatening to sue the newspaper. The interview comments were retracted, and Hearst ordered the four staffers and the night city editor fired. Salisbury pleaded his case to Russell. "If he had been chief judge of the National Supreme Court, he couldn't have looked more grave and august," Salisbury recalled. Salisbury explained to Russell how he had been ordered to concoct the interviews.
"Do you mean to tell me," Russell cried, "that you would write anything for the columns of Mr. Hearst's newspaper that was not absolutely true?"
"Well—yes—I have—sometimes."
"Terrible," Russell replied.
"I—er—I supposed a little exaggeration was expected once in a while."
"Monstrous!" said Russell.
"I—er—uh—I thought this was—er—understood in headquarters—"
"Preposterous!"
"In fact, I have often heard orders issued to—er—uh—'doctor up' a story a little to make it interesting, you know."
"Outrageous!"
And so the conversation went, with Russell denying any knowledge of the inner workings of yellow journalism as practiced at the American. When Salisbury confronted Russell with the fact that the American had hired snitches to steal news from the early editions of other Chicago newspapers, Russell stammered and declined to discuss the allegation. The meeting was ended; Salisbury was fired. But Salisbury says he learned a clear lesson, one that likely was becoming clear to Russell as well as he managed the "Madison Avenue madhouse" under the watchful eye of William Randolph Hearst: "Journalism in America is but a business to newspaper owners and managers," Salisbury concluded. "Editors, reporters and correspondents are but puppets on strings." Soon enough the great treadmill of journalism "grinds out the lives of its workers... and then throws them aside."
After eight years on the streets as a reporter; after three years directing Joseph Pulitzer's New York City news coverage; after five years in the maelstrom of yellow journalism under Hearst—Russell was coming close to the point of being used up and broken down. And then in January of 1901 his world came crashing down. His wife, Abby, contracted typhoid fever. He rushed back to New York to be with her. It seemed only yesterday that she had accompanied Russell on the piano as he recited poetry. Their now sixteen-year-old son, John Edward, was with his parents. At first, Abby improved and seemed on the road to recovery. Then, on January 12, Abby Osborn Rust Russell died at the age of thirty five. Her father had died just two years before back in St. Johnsbury, Vermont. Charles and John made the trek back to wintry Vermont to bury Abby and ponder the future. Soon after, Russell's health broke and he suffered what can only be described as a nervous breakdown. Hearst gave Russell, who was forty one, unlimited leave with pay.
CHAPTER SEVEN
EXPOSING THE WORLD'S GREATEST TRUST
PART I: FROM POETRY TO SAVAGERY
BATTERED BY THE DEATH OF HIS WIFE AND BRUISED from the grinding lifestyle of the daily newspaper, Charles Edward Russell gave in to his doctor's wishes. He took a year off from work. On March 1, 1902, at the age of forty two, Russell boarded the steamship Lahn in New York, bound for Italy and Germany in search, as a newspaper reported, of "repose and recuperation." Because of problems with his eyes, he spent much of his time wearing black goggles. "It is especially miserable being ill in Hotel beds, and foreign at that," he wrote as he trooped across Europe in search of what a lifelong friend, the actress Julia Marlowe, described as "the cure," a regimen of hot baths and Spartan food. "What an existence," he complained. "Up at 6 A.M.! and all morning filling inside with water and all afternoon soaking...."
After recuperating in various spas, a waterlogged Russell returned to America, firmly convinced that his days in journalism were over. He had lived the frenzied life of reporter and editor for nearly twenty years, reaching the pinnacle of his profession as one of the great reporters in the nation's media capital, New York City. He had edited two of the most powerful crusading newspapers in the world, publications that had profound influence not only on the shape of journalism but also on the shape of the nation. And he topped it all off by publishing his own newspaper—albeit on behalf of the ambitious William Randolph Hearst—in what was America's second greatest city. But the pace of the newsroom, even for a healthy man, was torturous. There was the overseeing of dozens of reporters, fielding requests and complaints from both the public and the merchant community, trying to keep pace with a world in constant turmoil in cities that were growing tremendously and were havens for the wretched poor, thieving politicians, and the corrupt rich. All the while he was trying to satisfy two demanding, eccentric, brilliant, and politically irascible publishers. No wonder that when his wife died unexpectedly his world tumbled down—and his health broke. "No more of that kind of work for this poor old man," he wrote his friend Wallace Rice. "He knows when he has had enough."
To continue his recuperation, Russell moved to Evanston, Illinois, a small town north of Chicago. His son, John, had just enrolled in Northwestern University, situated on the shore of Lake Michigan, in the area where the wealthy Chicago industrialists had built the lavish homes that Russell would later criticize. Russell's son was in a liberal arts program, and he told school officials that he wanted to be an artist. His father the journalist was also turning to the arts to continue his recovery. Russell felt there would be respite in the writing of poetry and the study of music, an odd choice for a man so engaged by the harshness of domestic politics and squalor of urban poverty as well. Yet for many years he had embraced simultaneously the beauty of highbrow lyricism and the tumultuous world of social struggle. His first book of poems, Such Stuff as Dreams, was published soon after his wife's death. Some of it was a melancholy remembrance of Abby, who had now become a "tear-touched memory." In "Dead Music" he wrote: "I shall not hear again the notes/ that once beneath her fingers grew." In another poem, he recalled walks along the river with Abby when, "rapt with vain dreams we crept from haunts of men." But now, "the river's shore is barren grown, harsh all the tuneful roar of streams, and now a darkness comes to pen the shadows of the hill." He told a friend, "I have been ill and am still far from well."
Despite his desolation, Russell was nonetheless purposeful. "For the first time in my life," he wrote, "a little leisure" was possible, and yet he wanted to use it to "carry out a purpose long cherished." Russell had concluded that "the separate arts of music and poetry are really but one." To demonstrate this, he turned to analyzing the work of the British poet, Charles Algernon Swinburne, Russell was interested in the exquisite political melodies he found in Swinburne's "A Song of Italy" (1867), in which the poet passionately embraces liberty. He wanted to put Swinburne's lyrics to music. This allowed him to use his knowledge of the work of Theodore Thomas, the founder of the American orchestra, whom he had discovered first at the age of fifteen when Thomas stayed at the Russell household in Davenport. After this visit, Russell became a "humble follower and disciple." With newspapering behind him, Russell figured: "I now conceived that with a piano, my Swinburne, and some sheets of music paper I could demonstrate" the unity of music and poetry.
But Russell was abruptly and fortuitously taken away from his work in the fall of 1904. "One day, as I was making some musical analyses of the amphibrach foot, there was brought to me a telegram from my friend." The friend was Erman Ridgway, editor of Everybody's magazine, which had been publishing since that summer a spectacular series of exposés of Wall Street by financier Thomas Lawson. Along with McClure's, Everybody's was one of the newly emerging popular mass-circulation magazines that were muckraking corporate and political life in America. Ridgway asked a favor: Would Russell contact J. W. Midgley, a noted railroad expert who had just finished testifying in Chicago before the Interstate Commerce Commission, to see if his "extraordinary testimony" was worth an article?
Russell agreed to help his friend, but the newsman in him—the years of working the streets that made his nose for news twitch when a story beckoned—first led to a detour; he bought a newspaper to learn about Midgley's testimony. "What I read gave me a new sensation," he recalled. Was it possible that the news accounts accurately portrayed this "huge commercial tyranny" that was to be seen from the testimony of Midgley and others? The witnesses outlined what Russell would soon label "The Greatest Trust in the World"—the organization of the nation's meat packers, with headquarters in Chicago, into a giant cartel, one that dwarfed even John D. Rockefeller's Standard Oil and threatened to turn democracy into plutocracy.
So intrigued was Russell that he headed for Chicago. "I thought I would stroll over to the Interstate Commerce Commission," he wrote. Although the Elkins Act of 1903 had strengthened the regulatory powers of this federal agency, it was still no match for the beef industry's battery of lawyers and lobbyists with their devious and nefarious methods. No one thought that it would be. Public support for central authority to control private capital was only beginning to emerge in Gilded Age America. Begun in April 1887, the ICC was an agency in search of a mandate—and some teeth. The law that created the ICC was ambiguous, as was the public and government's support for it. What was needed—and what was coming—was an onslaught of publicity about why the government needed more power to intervene in the affairs of private enterprises that could no longer be trusted.
The testimony Russell heard in October 1904 was from two Midwesterners—not unlike the hard-working Iowans with whom he had grown up. They told sad tales: one witness testified that he opposed the meat packers and then they ruined him; the other, a farmer, showed how the trust's monopolistic control of markets devalued his crop so much that it was hardly worth his summer's labor by the time he got to market. Listening to those witnesses was enough "to start boiling blood in the veins of any American," Russell concluded. This was also a story to speed up the heart rate of any true Pulitzer-Hearst man: David against Goliath, underdog against top dog, workers against owners. To put it in the terms of the political movement then energizing America—Progressivism—it was a story of "the people" being overwhelmed by "the interests."
With Midgley too busy to write an article for Everybody's, Ridgway turned to Russell. A part of Russell was reluctant, the part that had "not the least disposition" to disrupt his newfound "real employment." But the temptation to rejoin the battle—and an emerging exposé movement—was too much for Russell to resist. "I popped back, 'Yes' before I knew it," Russell said. "The next thing I knew a muck-rake was put into my hand and I was plunged into the midst of the game."
PART II: "ON THE TRACK OF THE MONSTER...."
Having worked on and off as a reporter in the 1880s in Chicago and having published the Chicago American at the turn of the century, Russell probably knew what was common knowledge in the Windy City: the meat packers had great influence over everything from the railroads to local elections. Indeed, the American's exposure of the city's water thieves had led the newspaper and city authorities directly to the meat packers, as Russell noted in one of his autobiographies, concluding: "I was aware of the virtually absolute power of these companies and knew that any one attacking them would have an unpleasant time."
Russell was also keenly aware that the time was ripe for an attack on monopolies. Agitation against concentrated corporate power, jangling in the American political landscape since the 1890s, was beginning to reach new heights. In the South and in the West farmers had long complained that Eastern financiers and railroad moguls manipulated them unfairly. In the East, those who had risen in status—both workers and middle-class professionals—feared that the "trusts" had them at their mercy. In Chicago, as Russell knew from covering the Haymarket incident, workers were particularly active—and were the focus of attention from the growing socialist movement and the trade unions.
Nevertheless, Russell was optimistic as 1904 began, speculating in a book review that perhaps America had seen "the turning of the reactionary tide" against the excesses of industrialism. Certainly, journalists were beginning to do their part and were indeed a key force in the revolt. The public's awakening began in 1902, when Ida Tarbell and Lincoln Steffens began their muckraking in McClure's magazine, and the American public, in monthly installments, was handed a steady diet of exposure to corporate and political abuses. Although recuperating, Russell nonetheless followed closely the political and journalistic developments. He read and reviewed Tarbell's work, calling her history of Standard Oil "as interesting as a novel," and citing it as "the best piece of historical writing ever done by a woman." When her "unquestionable fact" was coupled with Steffens's "extraordinary series" on political graft in urban America and with Thomas Lawson's "disclosures of reckless viciousness" on Wall Street, Russell saw a pattern; a "nightmare of savagery," he called it.
When Russell began to write about the beef trust in February 1905, he said he was a neutral observer—"It is not my business here to be an advocate." But the lessons he learned at the feet of Pulitzer and Hearst and what he was seeing all around him in monopoly power had turned Russell into a passionate researcher. He knew after the ICC hearings in Chicago that something was terribly wrong with the might wielded by a few packers—Armour and Swift, in particular—who were able to control prices for both consumers and producers. "One man's voice in a telephone determines how much a million farmers shall lose on their cattle," he told to his readers. "A whole vast industry from the Rio Grande to North Dakota can hang on the voice of the man in a telephone." It was easy for Russell to see the problem and even to identify its causes.
Russell's graying hair and piercing blue eyes made him a distinguished and distinguishable figure as he began to split his time between Packingtown, where the animals were slaughtered, and the produce houses in Chicago, where the packers' bureaucracy was housed. "I had not been at work for ten days before I was an object of marked suspicion in the Stock Yards region," Russell wrote. For one thing, Russell was identified as a Hearst man (he still received mail at the American) and since Hearst's newspapers in Chicago had battled with the packers since that paper began, the packers figured Russell must be an enemy. Secondly, the ICC hearings had targeted and tarnished the packers. Why else would a reporter be making the rounds, asking all sorts of questions, unless he was out to follow these telling blows and expose more dirty deeds? Lastly, Russell admitted he "had not been at pains to conceal a connection" to Everybody's magazine, which was running serially Lawson's attacking articles. And after all, as Russell wrote, the entire nation "gasped and wondered and gasped again" while reading Lawson's articles. Because of Lawson, Russell concluded, "My appearance was construed as foreshadowing an attack." The meat packers began to visit and warn Russell's sources, not the last time Russell would be threatened. Tarbell had been told, in blunt language, that her reporting on Rockefeller had put her life in jeopardy a few years earlier, and muckraker Mark Sullivan was shadowed by goons when he went about investigating patent medicine frauds some years later. For his part, Russell noted, "It was well understood about the yards that I was a visitor of evil intent and not to be talked with."
Perhaps Russell would have been wiser to use the tactic that Upton Sinclair had recently undertaken—go undercover and live and work in Packingtown to get the inside facts. But secrecy was not Russell's style; in fact, he argued in all his work for less secrecy from government and private corporations. Secrecy and covert reporting were just too undignified—and unnecessary—for this formal and scholarly man. It's also possible that Russell merely underestimated the wrath of the packers. As he noted later, "I figured I had about three months for unimpeded investigation." He was wrong. The trust blocked his investigation after less than two weeks. As luck would have it, other events bailed him out when the packers moved to cut off his sources.
Russell's eight-part series of articles began in February 1905, running alongside a profile of Lawson by famous reporter James Creelman. While Lawson gave Everybody's 500,000 readers the inside scoop on how he beat "the system," Russell spoke in an intimate way to his readers, much less bombastic than the swaggering Lawson. He warned about "a power greater than the government... a greater power than in the history of men has been exercised by king, emperor or irresponsible oligarchy." Using the delayed identification technique so common in a feature story he might have written for Pulitzer, Russell wrote for five pages in a highly dramatic way before finally naming his target: the meat packers, "a commercial force without precedent in Trust history," a force that even government investigators, in disbelief, conceded raked in $700 million in 1904. To hear Russell tell the story—and he was as much a storyteller as a reporter—the beef trust had a stranglehold on every aspect of American commerce, from meat and melons to railroads and finance, from growers in California and Georgia to laborers in Chicago and New York, "from every farmer to every dinner-table." He wrote: "It [is] able to control the price of every loaf of bread." Moreover, "It controls or influences the prices of one-half the food consumed by the nation." So powerful is this combine that "multi-millionaires, railroad magnates and captains of industry quail before it." The theme of Russell's articles typified what Progressives were arguing. The system of private capital was out of control; wealthy industry leaders, "driven along by an economic evolution beyond their knowledge or control," were snuffing out competition and killing what Russell labeled "the American idea—the idea of equal opportunity."
Russell's first article established that the huge and profitable meat-packing industry—in 1903 alone the Swift Company made $200 million in profits and brought nearly 8 million steers, pigs, chickens and sheep to market—was controlled by four major companies. The first three, Armour, Swift, and Morris, owned the fourth, the National Packing Company, which wiped out "the least vestige of competition." He declared: "One market was all markets." The major figure in this alliance of "agreeing gentleman" was Jonathan Ogden Armour, "young, cool, ambitious, resourceful, probably the ablest, certainly the most daring manipulator." Armour, who had inherited his father's meat-packing business in 1901, had been on the stockyard scene for only three years. Nevertheless, Russell concluded, "No more extraordinary figure has ever appeared in the world's commercial affairs, no man, not even Mr. Rockefeller, has conceived a commercial empire so dazzling."
Armour was the kind of robber baron who logically could have been the central character in Russell's exposé. If Tarbell had Rockefeller, Russell had Armour, a name every beef-eating American could identify with. After inheriting his father's sprawling packing industry, the son dropped out of Yale and turned a $200 million fortune into a $1 billion gold mine as well as the largest and most powerful meat empire in the world. He could have been the bad guy of the story. Russell chose not to portray him this way, however, because, he concluded, "the system—not the individual—is essentially at fault," a theme Russell clung to as he muckraked right up until the onset of World War I.
Russell insisted that the conspiracies in restraint of trade used by Armour and Swift to compile their fortunes were wrong; for their lawlessness they deserved to be in prison. But the fabulous wealth of men like Armour was also the perfectly logical outcome of a system "that holds it laudable to pile up great fortunes by whatsoever means acquired." Their behavior came not from their hearts or character, but from the logical incentives of capitalism. Although the beef trust overlords were motivated by greed, not service, that was what America wanted—no, demanded—from these capitalists: to make money at any cost. None of that took away from the grisly fact, Russell felt, that these "bandit gentlemen" represented "the highest and most dangerous achievement in corporation management" and posed a serious risk to a free and democratic government. Not until the Germans engaged the Allies in a world war did Russell again use such forceful language about a threat to democracy.
Russell's research led him to believe that a secret cartel of meat packers existed. "It is as intangible as the air, as mysterious as destiny, as certain as a perfect machine," he wrote. A government inquiry eventually agreed with Russell that four major packing companies did the bulk of the meat business, but the government disagreed that the group acted in concert to thwart competition. Russell said their success in throttling competition was largely the result of illegal rebates made to the railroad operators. Since such kickbacks allowed the big packers to pay less than competitors for shipping dressed meat, they could greatly reduce their costs. With the rail lines in their pocket, they could in turn demand favorable prices from farmers and ranchers who wanted to sell their meat or produce to the packers.
A typical trick, Russell found, was for the packers to raise greatly their asking price, which would cause them a short-run loss in profit. Seeing higher prices, however, the growers would subsequently flood the market with more products, and the cartel would in turn drop its asking price. Thus, the packers would buy cheaply in a flooded market, but sell at a high price to consumers. This "controlled and manipulated market," Russell repeated in his articles, is a "curse... utterly wrong... a violation of natural laws." The packers' price control affected two groups—producers, of course, who were at the mercy of the beef trust manipulations, and consumers, who were forced daily to pay higher prices on everything from bakery to meat products. The result, he argued, was that consumers were being gouged while the packers made exorbitant profits. Meanwhile, the producers—and their underwriters, such as the banks—were barely able to survive; in fact, many didn't. As Russell wrote of the beef trust, "It racked the producer and it racked the consumer."
In the thousands of words Russell wrote about the beef trust, there was nothing about those who labored in the stockyards, the workers who slaughtered Armour's 3.5 million hogs in 1904, for example. In fact, although Russell would turn to socialism as the cure for private monopolies in 1908, he wrote very little in any of his magazine or book-length works about the plight of workers. That left the whole field of the incivility of labor conditions to one interested observer, Upton Sinclair. This square-jawed young man from Baltimore, an avowed socialist, had gone to live in Packingtown in 1904. There he saw the horrible living conditions that so angered readers when his novel, The Jungle, was published in 1906. He saw realtors take advantage of the immigrant laborers; he saw long hours that even the strongest of the men could not withstand; he saw women harassed and raped by supervisors; he saw little children who worked in the factories and were chewed up by an industrial system that was essentially unregulated—and that exploited both children and adults. All of this he indignantly seared into the pages of his novel. By creating composite characters in Jurgis Rudkus and his family, he showed how workers in Packingtown were abused by a factory system that made profits so easy to come by for Armour, Swift, and others.
When Everybody's hit the newsstands in late January, Sinclair read Russell's first installment with fascination. He wrote to Russell, whom he did not know: "I have just seen your Everybody's articles. Apparently you & I have been on the track of the monster at the same time." He said that "the Macmillans" would publish his book in the springtime, which did not occur since his material was considered too controversial (and suspect). It was eventually published by an independent publisher. Sinclair did not think Russell's exposé would hurt his upcoming fictive attack on "the monster." It's good, he wrote that "the public will have your facts in the meantime."
After Russell's first article appeared, the beef trust's executives ordered his sources to avoid him. "I lacked innumerable and indispensable details that I could see no way of getting," he said. But luck overcame skill. Just as a telegraph operator miraculously became available to Russell at the Johnstown flood fifteen years earlier, a secret source appeared to help him out in this investigation. Typically, when a reporter writes once on a topic, sources come out of the woodwork. Many times they are disgruntled company or bureaucratic insiders who have a stake in the outcome of an investigation or are seeking a measure of revenge. Ida Tarbell learned this fact of reportorial life in her investigation of Rockefeller. After her articles began to appear, a source came forward with documented proof of bribes being paid to railroad officials (proof that actually came from a rail depot garbage pail). This gave Tarbell a key piece of evidence against Rockefeller.
Russell had similar good luck with two different sources. The first was an unidentified friend who worked in Packingtown, probably someone he had met during his days as the American's publisher. This friend, who collected considerable information for Russell and put himself in danger in the process, may be the "informant" Russell referred to on occasion in the beef trust articles. The finding of the third source involved blind luck. After his February article appeared, Russell began to receive a tremendous amount of mail, much of it critical of his article. But the mail also brought an unsigned letter from a writer who told Russell about the movements of a man who each day visited the packers' top officials. Apparently the man was carrying messages between the trust's leaders and aiding their conspiracy. Russell used a confidante of his own to confirm the contents of each letter. "Invariably, after most careful investigation, I found [each letter] perfectly correct," Russell wrote. The outcome was that eventually the letters led Russell to "a mass of information far beyond my requirements." One of the areas the informant led Russell to concerned rebates, involving the same kind of preferential treatment and lawbreaking that Tarbell had found at Standard Oil. "The traffic of the country is rotten with forbidden rebates and scandalous discriminations," Russell concluded, "and behind it all is the Bandit of Commerce, taking toll."
Rebates were extensive in the early years of the twentieth century and were based on the power of large shippers to exploit a competitive railroad situation. A packer with hundreds of tons of beef to ship could tell the operator of a freight line that it would take its considerable business (the trust was the largest shipper in the world!) elsewhere unless the rail kicked back—or rebated—part of the published shipping cost. Federal law had declared that rails, as common carriers, had to charge equal amounts to competing shippers. The Elkins Anti-Rebating Act of 1903 made both corporations and individuals liable for a $20,000 fine for either giving or receiving a rebate. Thus, the rebates were clearly illegal, but of course they were also hidden, disguised by such practices as false classifications and underbilling of weights. Rebates took about 10 percent of the gross revenue of the railroads. "Wherever we turn in this story," Russell charged, "there is but one prospect, and that is graft."
PART III: PLUTOCRACY OR DEMOCRACY?
Before Russell began to snoop about the stockyards, the manipulations of the beef packers had drawn attention. Both the New York Herald and the Chicago Tribune published exposés about collusion by the meat packers in 1902. In 1903 a federal judge granted an injunction against the five major packers, agreeing that they had conspired to restrain trade. Then in 1904 Congress held hearings about rising prices. Russell gave an example of the kind of story that congressmen were hearing. A Nebraska farmer mortgaged his farm to the hilt and borrowed all that banks would loan; he tasted seven years of profits from selling his livestock to the Chicago packers. In 1901, the year J. Ogden Armour took over his father's company, the farmer found that when he went to market "the buyers had strangely disappeared. There was no more bidding." All buyers offered the same low price. "One man bought for all," Russell wrote, and the result was a loss of $8 on every head of cattle for every Midwestern farmer for the years 1901 to 1904. In Iowa alone the loss was $12.5 million; forty banks closed and seven bank officers committed suicide.
Howls of protest reached the floor of the Fifth-eighth Congress at which a 1904 resolution asked the federal Department of Commerce to conduct a "thorough investigation" into what had caused meat prices to be higher for consumers and lower for sellers than at any time in the past five years. Has "any contract, combination, or conspiracy in restraint of commerce" caused these "unusual conditions," the resolution asked? Russell had the answer: the beef trust was the culprit! Russell's conclusion, of course, cannot be viewed as startling since the public had been concerned about monopolies for more than two decades. In 1890 Congress passed the Sherman Anti-Trust Act as a way of starting to control the growth of monopolies, although enforcement of the act was haphazard, sporadic, and half-hearted. In 1899 a congressional committee's inquiry into the "trusts" found that one of the primary reasons for the new combines was to avoid competition (not such a surprise either). The committee also discovered that fantastic salaries and fees were going to those connected with the monopoly corporations. Theodore Roosevelt, acutely aware of the intense public interest in the trust problem, knew that the appearance of government scrutiny was good politics—and might also brake the continued growth of monopoly without direct government intervention, a typically moderate Rooseveltian approach.
The investigation of the beef trust ordered by Congress was conducted by James R. Garfield, a nephew of the former president who was Roosevelt's commissioner of corporations and one of his close advisers. While Russell's articles were appearing, Garfield issued a statistic-laden, chart-filled report that in essence cleared the industry of the two major charges against it: that it was a monopoly and that it made exorbitant profits. He concluded that there was no conspiracy, no common ownership, no illegal combination, and no trust. Yes, there was a "Big Six" of meat packers, but "even if they were acting in combination they could not habitually depress the price of cattle and increase their profits to an abnormal degree without bringing into the field powerful competitors," Garfield found. As for the profits that came from slaughtering 5.5 million head of cattle and 15 million hogs a year, they were "very reasonable." In fact, the report concluded, at times the profits could be "extraordinarily small."
The government cited testimony of Armour, the man whose company was making $200 million a year but who sounded more like the owner of a mom-and-pop corner store. He said, "There are good years and bad years," a contention he repeated in articles written for the conservative Saturday Evening Post. Whatever profits were made, Garfield said, were the result not of packers gouging consumers but rather simply the demand for the packers' products. Garfield knew his conclusion would irk the public. "Now will come the storm," he wrote in a diary, "but it is the truth and I care not for popular clamor." Russell was indignant. He interrupted his articles in June 1905 to respond, asking, "Have we heard before of a government department palpably and openly seeking to defend a lawless combination, and misstating, coloring and distorting the facts about it?" He then directed his most biting words against Garfield, referring to his "gross inaccuracies, amazing misstatements, and half-truths." But blame him not, Russell opined sarcastically, for when Garfield went to Chicago to investigate the trust, he spent his time being wined and dined by the city's best families who were only too glad to welcome the inquisitor. The implication was that Garfield had been bought off by the city's business elite, a contention with which a Garfield biographer agreed. Russell proceeded to rebut the Garfield report, using more detail than in any other section of his articles.
Garfield was able to conclude that there was no monopoly because he looked only at the packers' Illinois companies, a "manifestly deceptive" approach, Russell charged. "We should have had all the story or none." Using statistics from a variety of published sources, Russell then attacked the government's logic—and facts—on the profit issue. "Mr. Garfield's estimates [are] worthless," Russell wrote. His response was impressive, impassioned, and well-documented, although one scholar who studied the meat-packing industry feels Russell "overstated" the extent of the packers' control. The fact-driven approach in this part is in contrast to the more anecdotal and rhetorical style of the other parts. Russell probably changed his style to argue against the government findings on the government's level—the level of numbers and fact. He showed that he could combat a battery of government investigators, alone. Later developments confirmed Russell's allegations more than Garfield's. In 1906 packers were indicted by a federal grand jury and charged with the two crimes Russell said they were guilty of: illegal rebating and violating the antitrust statutes. At the trial on the rebating charges, Garfield admitted that he met privately and secretly with the trust's representatives and that he agreed not to use certain incriminating evidence. He denied that he did this to cover up the truth. Garfield told the court that when he visited the packers he was merely fact-finding, as requested by Congress, and not seeking evidence of criminal behavior. The packers said Garfield told them specifically that evidence he uncovered would not be used for a prosecution. Garfield denied he ever made such a pledge, but the packers produced contrary evidence, based on a transcript from a secret stenographer who recorded Garfield's words. The attorney general of the United States then took the witness stand to back up Garfield, saying that his incriminating evidence should be allowed as evidence for the government. The federal judge, however, did not believe Garfield's testimony and refused to accept the damning evidence he provided against both Armour and Swift. The judge ruled that the 161 individual leaders of the meatpacking companies would be immune from prosecution. The corporations, however, could be prosecuted.
This case, which was appearing on the front pages of newspapers across America at a time when the public was closely watching to see if the government could put a leash on the runaway power of the monopolies, was important to President Roosevelt. He reacted angrily to the judge's decision to protect Armour and Swift, calling the ruling a "farce" and promising to press on with prosecutions and to propose new legislation to change court rules on immunity. Russell's words, written only months before, predicted this victory by the meat-packing executives. The trust, he said, would "withstand almost any investigation" and would proceed "with utter indifference to any kind of legal restraint." Perhaps someday, Russell speculated, "there will come along a tribunal or an investigator" powerful enough to get the trust. "When that happens look out for your Beef Trust, Mr. Armour; it will not last long thereafter." But in 1906 Roosevelt didn't have either the power or the inclination to be that authority; Russell and the public had to content themselves with a conviction on the rebating charges—a mere $15,000 fine each for Armour & Company, Swift & Company, Cudahy & Company, and the Nelson Morris Packing Company. This was barely a slap on the wrist; a few hours of profits would absorb such a fine. On the more serious charge of anti-trust violations, the packers were able to delay a trial until 1911.
Although the court victory was minimal, Russell's exposé had the packers on the ropes: they were under fire in a national magazine, under investigation by the government, and under indictment for violating a variety of laws. Exactly what Russell wanted to see happen next is unclear from his articles. "I am not arguing for nor against anything," he wrote, which was a statement not to believed; he simply wasn't sure what he wanted to argue for in 1905.
On the one hand, Russell's implied solutions seemed almost Jeffersonian as he longed to turn back the clock to an old-fashioned, unfettered marketplace free of "arbitrary interference with natural conditions of supply and demand." If America could get rid of this "curse of a manipulated market," then perhaps all would be well again. Did he merely want a free and open marketplace, with real competition, unfettered by giantism and bribery? Or did this mean he wanted no market at all, but state ownership of property? Russell's thinking is unclear. He was sure that the development of a beef trust—or any trust—was the logical result of "the idea of the survival of the fittest, the right of the strong to annihilate the weak, the theory that in business any advantage is fair." Perhaps if the government or the people owned the beef industry—the means of production, if you will—then the best of the trust (its efficiency) would be preserved, and the worst (the price fixing) would be eliminated. Russell did not say this, and he wouldn't reach this conclusion, at least not publicly, for three more years. For now, he asserted more moderately that regulations might work—"if they're enforced." But he did not say either what kind of regulations he might want. Would it be price controls? Anti-price fixing laws? Uniform rates on the rails? More power for the Interstate Commerce Commission?
Sounding like his grandfather the minister, Russell looked instead into the human soul. "There is no remedy," he wrote, as his articles concluded in September, "unless we are willing to look upon the issue as essentially an issue of morals and not of business." Russell's solution mirrored, in part, that reached by Tarbell, who also sought a return to the days before industrial combines had crushed the small oil refineries. She too thought that morality, fair play, and Christian principle in business could stop the menacing hand of the Rockefellers and the Armours. Unless there were changes, Russell predicted, there would be "no more republic but only an irresponsible and arbitrary oligarchy against which, logically, no citizen can have protection." Will it be, he asked, "The life of the Trusts or the life of the republic—which?" Russell's question went unanswered, and his writing about the beef trust was soon overshadowed by the spectacular success of The Jungle.
IV. THE SHADOW OF THE JUNGLE
Charles Edward Russell loved poetry and music, but he never seriously tried his hand at fiction even though he knew that "people would at any time rather take their exposé stuff in fiction." Given this, one wonders why he didn't try a more stylized version of the facts that he had culled about the beef trust. Certainly some of his articles could have included consumers to bring the stories alive. In the end, the beef trust articles had two flaws: they lacked the human interest that would sear a message into readers' minds, and they lacked a clear statement of how a trust might be controlled.
In contrast, Upton Sinclair chose to use fictional characters—the unforgettable Lithuanian immigrants who were so real that readers cried with anger and pity when they were mistreated by profit-driven owners. Sinclair had an enormous impact on the public. His novel appeared first in the weekly socialist magazine, The Appeal to Reason, in March 1905, a month after Russell's exposé began. The Appeal reached an audience of socialists already convinced that a corporate cabal was oppressing workers and gouging consumers. Sinclair desperately wanted to reach a larger audience. Five publishers had turned him down before Doubleday, Page & Company, after corroborating his facts, brought out The Jungle in February 1906. That was soon after Ridgway-Thayer published Russell's articles in book form and five months after Russell's magazine articles ended. Sinclair, like Russell, spent much time in the Packingtown stockyards, living there for seven weeks and getting workers to tell him their heart-wrenching stories. Sinclair relied mostly on undercover work, disguising himself as a worker in the twelve to fourteen months of his research. It took him a year to write The Jungle. When it appeared, the response was overwhelming. Twenty-five thousand copies were sold in the first forty-five days after publication. Sickened by the prospect that diseased carcasses were landing on their tables, the public clamored for change. The eventual result was the creation of the federal Food and Drug Administration.
The clamor for change and federal intervention that emerged after the publication of The Jungle, however, would not have been possible without the groundwork laid by Russell's articles. The public and government response to Sinclair's work had been building for some time. It came first because of Russell's national exposé of the beef trust's very existence, of its price gouging and illegal rebating and of its mounting political influence. Second, it came because of the work of Samuel Hopkins Adams, who boldly lampooned the makers of patent medicines at the very time that The Jungle and the beef trust articles were appearing. Adams's explicit call for a federal agency to regulate food and drugs not only complemented Russell's and Sinclair's but matched a chorus of similar demands coming from within the government.
Thus, the coupling of the Russell and Adams articles with Sinclair's book became part of a complex social process whereby change resulted when pressure was exerted at two levels—with heightened public opinion and a mobilized government. Initially the public needed to be aroused. While there were no public opinion polls in 1904, it did not take a genius to understand what was occurring: when thousands of readers forced Everybody's to increase its press run as Russell's articles appeared and when Sinclair's book became a runaway bestseller, it was clear that the public was interested and indignant. That indignation, in fact, is what led President Roosevelt to worry privately that the magazine writers were "building up a revolutionary feeling." He knew the country was in a fury. On another level, however, there needed to be interest from policymakers for change to occur. Sinclair's "fiction" roused the public, but Russell's "facts" piqued the policymakers. Sinclair tacitly acknowledged this in his correspondence with Russell. Your facts, he told Russell, can only help the cause. Government officials responded directly and immediately to Russell's articles. They were reading and they were nervous. And while they denied that the "Big Four" controlled the meat business, they first of all launched a congressional investigation, directly in response to his work. Second, Roosevelt had the government attorneys pursue the meat packers in court for anti-trust violations. There was no cataclysmic onslaught against monopoly power after Russell's work appeared (although undoubtedly the growing number of socialists saw it as evidence of the need for state ownership). But it helped lay the groundwork and create a climate of acceptability for two important subsequent legislative developments—the creation of the federal Food and Drug Administration and strengthened railroad regulations. The creation of the FDA, in fact, may be the most significant and longest lasting of the reforms that came out of the Progressive Era. As one scholar who has carefully studied the beef trust episode concluded, "There can be no doubt that Sinclair and Russell heavily influenced public opinion." While the greatest achievement of Russell's muckraking work was yet to come, his opening salvo—the attack on the most powerful trust in America—had made a considerable ripple. The beef trust articles mobilized the reformers in their battle against the forces of monopoly. But reform would be far from enough for Russell.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"SOLDIER FOR THE COMMON GOOD"
I. PURSUING THE "HIDEOUS DEMONS"
DESPITE THE TRIUMPH OF CHARLES EDWARD RUSSELL'S "beef trust" articles, which ended in September 1905, his health remained frail. At times, his son John had to write letters for him. His "best time," he told a friend, was being with "good fellows" and discussing "poetry and the things that are worthwhile." Poetry, in fact, gave Russell as much joy as journalism. His second book of poems, The Twin Immortalities. came out in 1904 but did not garner much praise or attention. It did include somber remembrances of his wife. About Abby, he wrote: "She has gone and left my day all night, / How dear are memories of the vanished light. / How sad the haunts her face withdrawn leaves bare." The wounded poet, however, soon took a backseat to the angry muckraker as Russell began to search for another project. The exposés coming steadily from the pens of his muckraking colleagues made the focus of his attention clear: the evils emanating from the excesses of industrial competition.
Russell knew that Americans were always in hot pursuit of some "hideous demon of destruction." At times it was the rum fiend or the tobacco habit; at other times it was Tammany Hall, Anarchism, the Red Flag, or the Hordes of Europe. "There has always been something horned and horrible to disturb our slumbers with its stealthy approach," he commented. In 1905 monopoly was the demon. "Monopoly, of course, sought to strangle Competition. Blessed Competition," he noted in typical sarcastic fashion, "must be rescued from the claws of Monopoly." Although the journalistic warrior was soon fully roused to join the crusade, for Russell, monopoly was not the real demon; it was simply his excuse to delve into competing political philosophies. He wanted to know if "the jungle" of capitalism and competition that his friend Upton Sinclair was then describing to a national audience in magazine articles was inevitable and the natural result of human nature. Was man a beast who would fight for survival, eliminating whoever and whatever got in his way? Was monopoly the natural product of struggle? Were Rockefeller, Carnegie, and Vanderbilt the best of mankind—the beasts emerging supreme in the jungle? Could Darwin, reduced to his basest philosophy, be correct about both the animal kingdom and human nature? Or was a more harmonious world possible in which the creatures actually helped each other, cooperating and not competing? Was that the real natural order? Russell needed to answer those questions, although journalistic exposé hardly afforded him the chance to do that.
Although Russell's "beef trust" articles had established him as a writer to be reckoned with, he still looked to his newspaper connections for a platform, walking a line between continuing to work for William Randolph Hearst and asserting his independence. He still turned up occasionally at the offices of the Chicago American, but it was unclear what title—if any—he held. In 1904 Hearst had steamrolled across the nation in pursuit of Democratic electoral votes, unsuccessfully pursuing the party's presidential nomination. As his advocates fanned out across the country to help, Russell returned to Iowa, trying to bring his native state into the Hearst column. "I thought Mr. Hearst a sincere radical," Russell told an Iowa newsman years later. Eventually, Hearst won the support of the Iowa delegation, despite much opposition from the party machine, but he never got the presidential nomination. Despite his work for "the chief," however, Russell did not consider himself part of the Hearst crowd.
Nonetheless, his thoughts turned to Hearst when, in early 1905, Russell sat in the press gallery of the U.S. Senate, watching a debate. "I was struck with the patent fact that almost nobody in that chamber had any other reason to be there than his skill in valeting for some powerful Interest," Russell said. These "well-fed and portly gentlemen" were the people's enemies, not their advocates. Returning to New York, Russell met with Hearst, offering to write a series of articles on the predatory senators for Hearst's recently acquired Cosmopolitan magazine "He liked it," Russell found. Not that there was anything particularly novel in such a story idea. Reformers had long eyed the Senate as the bastion of the wealthy and sought to bring about direct election by the people, instead of the method then used whereby state legislatures, often notoriously corrupt, chose senators. As Russell began to collect facts for the articles, however, Erman J. Ridgway of Everybody's magazine approached him with an intriguing proposal. While Americans were scrutinizing the results of industrial competition at home, why not see how the rest of the industrialized world was handling problems arising out of competition and industrial growth? How do other countries differ from America? He asked Russell to travel around the world to find out—a dream assignment.
Russell had traveled often to Europe as correspondent and vacationer. His scholarly mien, philosophical bent, intellectual curiosity, and skill as a researcher served him well. And at forty four, he was still trying to sort out a personal philosophy. The U.S. Senate assignment was passed along, at Russell's suggestion, to his good friend David Graham Phillips, whose "Treason of the Senate" articles eventually published in 1906 represented the most vitriolic attack on the political establishment of the muckraking era. Russell, however, had bigger fish to fry—he was looking to indict the "system" and not just its key players. He accepted Ridgway's offer.
II. THE TRIP AROUND THE WORLD
As he boarded a steamship to Australia in December 1905 to begin a yearlong, nine-country tour, Russell hardly seemed an open-minded investigator. "We have been slow to admit the evil conditions that we face: we are driven to admit them now," he observed. As Russell saw it, "money madness and organized greed" in America were leading to a "moneyed autocracy, wealth in the hands of a few, lawless corporations, trusts that control food and energies" and "the imminent ruin of democratic ideals." Good men had been "transformed into mad devils by the opportunity of unlimited money-making and the craze for power," he argued. "They will stop at no crime and balk at no mean and dirty device to augment their fortunes." Russell asked, "What cure? What shall we do" to end this "perversion of all things good by the money power"? Russell hoped to find answers in England, Germany, France, Switzerland, India, Japan, China, Australia, and New Zealand.
Russell, accompanied by son John, seemed cranky as his steamship, the Moldavia, began the trip to England. "The English are the most disagreeable of all traveling companions," he noted in his diary. "I have never seen a nastier lot of slobs and snobs than most of the Moldavia's passengers." They think it their "duty to annoy every American—perhaps to get even for the Revolution." He described one "large rotten fat lady who must be English for she has the English Buttinsky traits and the same old frantic English passion for patronizing and interfering with Americans." Offended by the Brits' personal hygiene, he muttered, "Reminds me of the old assertion that Englishmen take a bath by looking at the tub." The food aboard ship made him angrier. About Christmas dinner, he wrote: "I have never seen a more dreadful thing." His complaint brought "stony silence" from the British passengers who respond only, he said, if you praise their country. "Intense disgust" filled Russell when the British passengers clamored to sit next to the few English aristocrats aboard. "I don't want to have anything to do with the English and always try to avoid them but they will butt in and jeer and make offensive remarks," he observed. The Midwestern egalitarianism that had been nurtured by his British immigrant parents was offended. Russell's lone pleasure on the trip was poetry. On Christmas Day he and John read aloud from Swinburne's "Before a Crucifix."
When his ship landed, Russell was greeted by reporters who wondered about his mission. "I shall not try to establish either side of a question with which I have here nothing to do," he said, but "privilege, caste, class, corruption, great wealth in the hands of a few"—certainly these were problems that deserved attention. "We need not be Radicals, nor extremists, nor effected in the slightest degree by any doctrine of alleged remedy, to see very clearly that present conditions cannot go on." He then focused on the condition that most obsessed him: poverty. In London on a Sunday afternoon he visited a small park near the Thames River. He watched a family—a young man, his wife, a baby and a little boy—stumble through the park. The family was in tattered clothes, emaciated, dirty, stooping. The father sang a Charles Wesley hymn. "I have never known a thing more grotesque and horrible," Russell observed. As the beggar wailed his song, people threw coins at the family, mostly, Russell thought, to get them out of sight and mind. The Pulitzer-Hearst disciple knew that the scene of the wretched family was rich material for his articles. "The paupers abound, the millionaires thrive," he noted. "Some men have too much of the fruits of the earth, some men have too little." The reason lay with the British class system—hunting preserves for the nobles, unproductive estates for the aristocracy, money wasted on nobility. "There is no where in England any recognition that the slum inhabitant is a human being of equal rights with the fortunate," he insisted. "Dwarfed bodies, twisted minds, joyless lives, misshapen children"—all were the products of "England's system of snobbery."
Russell's bitterness toward the British ruling class increased when he traveled to India, the English colony where 300 million people lived in a way he described as "unfit for beasts, intolerable for swine, in filth unutterable." He donned a white linen suit and sat atop an elephant to watch a "spectacle that can hardly be matched," a country in which temples of splendor coexisted with famine and disease. He was aghast at all that he encountered. Ants and spiders crawled the walls of his hotel while station platforms crawled with dirty people. He saw people drinking sewage. Nothing on the Lower East Side of Manhattan had prepared him for India. The Indian people, he confided in his diary, are "ill fed, filthy, ignorant" and "represent the lowest type of humanity I have ever seen." But the British cared little for these "most hopeless of human creatures." Russell's anger boiled over. When he did not stand one day for the playing of "God Save the King," a shouting match ensued with a British citizen.
Russell conceded in his diary that his anger was part of a "smoldering hostility" between the British and the Americans, but it was also reinforced by his observations of English behavior in India. The Prince of Wales had just visited India for three months of celebration when Russell arrived there. In Bombay and Delhi one pageant followed another; jewels and carpets of flowers were laid out for the prince; forty thousand troops were assembled as the prince was ushered to balls and banquets. The prince was moved by the reception, Russell was told, but did he not wonder: Where were all of India's poor people? Where were the teeming hordes infected with disease and beset by epidemic? Did he not wonder about a civilization that tolerated "fantastic pomp and perennial famine, illuminations and plague, waste and want"? He noted in his diary that the Brits had spent nearly $1 million for the prince. "When famine darkens the greater part of surrounding country never was [there a] stranger comment on civilization." No matter what progress the British had made in improving India in their 150 years of rule, Russell felt the disparities of this "huge evil" was inexplicable. The system of caste, "the most deplorable affliction that ever befell any people" he concluded, "has no more place in civilization than voodoism or witchcraft would have."
The only good thing Russell found in England was a nascent cooperative movement. A group of workers who had been displaced after a strike in 1843—the Toad Lane Weavers of Rochdale—caught his attention. As a result of the strike, the weavers started a "peaceful revolution," cooperating with other workers in producing and exchanging goods and becoming relatively self-sufficient. In 1904 they baked 4.4 million loaves of bread for 24,120 members of a cooperative that earned $2.3 million. Russell lived with the workers, much like Upton Sinclair had in Packingtown outside of Chicago, but he did not find a "jungle." On the contrary, he found a "very strange people [who] believe that Cooperation will work to destroy race prejudice, break down national barriers, obliterate armaments, and bring about universal peace." Not coincidentally, American Socialists would use that same rhetoric a short time later. But the Weavers insisted that when not compelled by the "Competitive Idea," people become "decent, kindly, tolerant, and unselfish" instead of "the cruel devils of the money mart." Yes, Russell repeated, a strange people indeed who regard competition as "immoral and the great source of the world's evil." In England the growing forces of concentrated capital and cooperation, Russell predicted, "are like two fast trains trying to pass on a single track. One or the other seems certain to be smashed." The only other glimmer of hope Russell found in England was in the work of the London County Council, which he said was socialistic in its goals of operating and owning municipal services.
Russell's diaries for his year abroad are largely an unreadable jumble, unlike his later diaries that made careful observations and that were undoubtedly written in hopes of publication. One notable entry is that he bought lots of cigars in various countries. But like a good newsman and researcher, he was too busy doing interviews, collecting facts, and scurrying around to meet various officials to keep a detailed log. Certainly the articles he wrote, replete with charts, statistics, and graphs, reveal impressive research bordering on sociology. Aside from the rich–poor gap, he wanted to learn how other countries regulated industries. In Germany he found a transportation system that he both admired and critiqued. The German trains, owned by the state, were the "most remarkable" in the world, with the "precision of a perfect machine." But he found signs posted everywhere reminding riders about government rules, a reproachful authoritarianism that made him nervous. Nonetheless, service was so good that Russell said his "democratic and American soul" was tempted to ignore—for now, at least—the heavy-handed state presence. In fact, he welcomed state takeover of insurance, which occurred, he said, after the Germans studied American insurance scandals. Russell especially applauded the German old-age insurance system, a form of Social Security hardly discussed in America. Despite these positives, however, Russell saw the same class distinctions in Germany as in England. The "palace and the slum lie side by side," he found.
France was always Russell's favorite country to visit, and the gaiety of Paris endlessly charmed him. He limited his talk of France, however, to a meticulously detailed observation of how the government ruled the privately owned railroads with an iron fist. "It is the absolute master," he found, and can "do as it pleases" with the rails. In America, the railroad owners rob the people. "Not in France. The French people do not care to have the taxes they pay diverted to the pockets of money-grabbers." Was tough government regulation then the solution? Russell did not know, but "our lady of hope," as he once called France in a poem, was an encouraging model. Not so Italy, however, where the railroads were dismal and depressing. Riding one day in a filthy, unventilated, and very tardy train coming from Florence, he overheard two Americans. Commented one man from Indiana, "We may not know a heap about art, but we can railroad" better than the Italians. In three months of riding the Italian rails, Russell found only one that left or arrived on time. He did not blame the Italian people, whom he found "honest, capable, and desirous of good as any of the rest of mankind." The fault was with the corporations, with "money mania... the monstrous cruelty, rapacity, and savagery of unfettered and organized Greed," a condition that was worldwide, he insisted.
III. RUSSELL BECOMES A "COMRADE"
When Russell was ill in the years after his wife's death, he went to Carlsbad in Germany and other European spas seeking a cure for his ailments. Now, five years later, as he traveled in Europe on assignment, he sought a different kind of cure—a cure for what he perceived as the ills of democracy. He began to find it when he made his way to Switzerland, and then sailed to Australia and New Zealand. While traveling by automobile one afternoon in the Swiss countryside, Russell spotted a farmer eyeing him from his chalet, a man not unlike his uncles from Iowa. Russell pitied the poor man whose wheat and potato crop seemed so meager, his life so "painfully narrow and unfortunate." But when Russell stopped to inquire and speak with the man, he found that the farmer was actually quite learned, that he read newspapers and books, knew much about current events, and was even well aware of American political scandals and its rule by unelected bosses. The farmer, in fact, pitied Russell—or at least that is the story that Russell told. The farmer observed that Americans were too caught up in making money and accumulating wealth. Russell commented, "To be in harmony with one's surroundings, to work and to thrive a little and to rear children, to have liberty and security and be tolerant and self-respecting," that is what is important. And by this measure, Russell concluded, the Swiss were the "happiest people in Europe."
Russell's reason was simple and simplistic: Switzerland was a "pure democracy... the most democratic government in the world." The Swiss voted often, more than any other industrialized nation; elections were no big deal. "Voting seems to them much like eating their breakfast," he said. And the 3.4 million people in the country did not turn their elected officials into superheroes. The only great Swiss men were scientists or writers. "All are great men in Switzerland, and one is as great and as divinely gifted as another," asserted Russell. Even more attractive was the Swiss progressive income tax that discouraged the building of great fortunes. The poor were not very poor and the rich not very rich. The government operated the rails, telephones, and telegraphs and owned all the slaughterhouses. "Everything done by their government is done out in the daylight." Switzerland, he concluded, is "worth careful attention."
In New Zealand, a colony that had long been more independent from Britain than India, democracy again seemed triumphant to Russell, who saw its progressive experience as a direct refutation of American Social Darwinism. For one thing, women had voted there since 1893. Democracy couldn't flourish in a country in which one-half the population had no share in government, Russell observed. "Women are not idiots, nor children, nor dolls, nor dress-pattern exhibits," he said. On the contrary, in New Zealand they were progressive forces. Political life was "cleaner and purer because of them," he found. And the New Zealand household did not suffer either; it seemed as well ordered as any Russell had seen. Perhaps it was the inclusion of women that drove New Zealand's reform impulses. The country had an old-age pension system since 1898, slum conditions were unheard of, and wealth was distributed evenly. Part of the reason was that government carefully controlled the growth of private industries. "Let us have no trusts here such as exist in America," one man told Russell. No beef trusts, no Morgans, no Rockefellers, no Armours and "no government afraid to enforce the law upon the rich and the powerful." In New Zealand, as in Australia, Russell found the theme that would hold together not only his articles but his ideology as well. The search for aggrandizement and wealth are not the driving forces of human behavior. "I know we have always been so taught, but I am not quite sure of it," he said. People will work just as hard for a common cause as for their own fortunes. "There is no doubt left for me," he concluded," of the genuine blessing of Cooperation."
As Russell prepared to sail home, he mused that his growing passion for Cooperation over Competition was indeed "strange and idealistic," but he had learned—or at least convinced himself—that in some countries it was "the normal state of man." Not in America, however, as he was reminded at various stops during his tour abroad. "The very boatmen on the Wanganui River and the Maori schoolboys [in New Zealand] will tell you that America is dominated by its rich men and corporations," he wrote. In India he was bluntly told that America's caste system was no different from that of the Hindus who have only done it better than the Westerners. "Wherever there is much power in the hands of a few men there is caste and always was and always will be. And if what I hear about America is true," the Indian told Russell, "you are finding that out for yourselves." Russell agreed. He returned home believing firmly that the struggle in the world was "between those that uphold and draw profit from... the existing conditions of grab and gain, and those that protest against or attack present conditions as immoral, injurious, unnecessary, and perilous to progress." He was ready to join the protesters.
Russell's articles in Everybody's began appearing in April 1906 while he was on tour, the same month that Theodore Roosevelt, no friend of cooperative schemes, made his famous attack on the "man with the muckrake." In a speech in Washington, D.C., Roosevelt warned against the writers who looked at the muck of society and not at the genuine blessings of a competitive and free society. Roosevelt was aiming at Upton Sinclair, David Graham Phillips, and William Randolph Hearst, a potential presidential opponent. Given his feelings about socialism, which was catching fire in America, he might have had Russell in mind also. Roosevelt once wrote that socialism was "hostile to the intellectual, the religious, the domestic and moral life; it is a form of communism with no moral foundation... based on the immediate annihilation of personal ownership of capital... the annihilation of the family, and ultimately the annihilation of civilization." Russell was not surprised at the hostility socialism faced in the United States, but he felt it was based on misunderstanding—which the press had created.
Much had happened on the reform front while Russell was gone. As he set foot back on American soil in September 1906, Edwin Markham, usually a poet, was revealing to the nation in Hearst's Cosmopolitan how children were used and abused in the workplace. Hearst, meanwhile, was in a tough fight for the New York governor's race, which he lost by only 60,000 votes. Sinclair's The Jungle had appeared in February, and regulations to clean up the meat industry were being debated in Congress. Tougher federal railroad regulations had passed the Congress in May. Phillips's nine-month-long "Treason" articles, ending in November, had stirred both the president and the nation. And the core of the muckraking movement, which was centered about McClure's, had just shifted as Lincoln Steffens, Ray Stannard Baker, and Ida Tarbell jumped ship to start the American magazine—and to argue over whether to present solutions or continue to muckrake problems. Russell wanted to do both as he sat down to finish his articles.
In fact, the urge to reject the palliative measures that Progressives were suggesting had been stirring in Russell for some time. His first hero was Henry Demarest Lloyd, whom Russell discovered while studying in Vermont in 1881. Lloyd's muckraking classic, Wealth Against Commonwealth, attacking Standard Oil, suggested that common ownership made more sense than competition. Later, working as a newspaper reporter, Lloyd wrote about and admired Henry George, the "Red Game Cock," who ran unsuccessfully for New York mayor after his book, Progress and Poverty, captured the imagination of idealists with talk of socializing land ownership and equalizing taxes. "A most extraordinary man," Russell called him. When Russell worked for Hearst, he took up the notion—endorsed by his populist boss—of municipal ownership of key utilities. Moreover, he began to believe that large monopolies were actually an efficient and logical development but that eventually they should be owned by the people and run by the state. In short, he began to embrace the tenets of socialism.
When he left Chicago and returned to New York, Russell was more formally introduced to socialism, which had been around in various guises since the 1870s but became the U.S. Socialist Party in 1901. Toward the end of 1903 William J. Ghent, author of two books critical of capitalism, invited Russell and a dozen reformers to join the Collectivist Society, sometimes also called the X Club. The group met informally every few weeks in a midtown Manhattan Italian restaurant to exchange ideas. Joining the confab was Lincoln Steffens, Collier's Weekly editor Norman Hapgood, Independent editor Hamilton Holt, psychologist John Dewey, and philosopher Charles A. Beard. Ardent socialists like Algernon Lee, William English Walling, and J. G. Phelps Stokes attended also. English novelist H. G. Wells, traveling in the United States, addressed the club once and called it one of the few worthwhile things in America. The group had no mission; the members simply talked, sometimes late into the night. As the founder of the U.S. Socialist Party, Morris Hillquit noted, more often than not, socialism was the "favorite topic" of the gathered intelligentsia.
A key moment in Russell's conversion came in late 1906, when he settled in Manhattan soon after returning from his worldwide tour. Robert Hunter, author of a 1904 book on poverty in America, invited twenty five reformers to Noroton, Connecticut, where his in-laws, the Stokeses, millionaire philanthropists with leftist leanings, entertained the group. Hunter was at the center of Progressive thought, as were many of the guests—David Graham Phillips; Finley Peter Dunne, best known for his "Mr. Dooley" character; Tom Watson, who became a U.S. Senator from Georgia; and Arthur Brisbane, Hearst's top editor, whose father, Albert, was a famous socialist. Hillquit recalled Russell as "an eloquent speaker" who "disguised a tender heart under the gruff appearance and manner of a bear." For three days and nights only meals interrupted the debate. "All phases of the Socialist philosophy and methods were expounded, analyzed, attacked, and defended," Hillquit recalled.
Meanwhile, Russell's Everybody's articles on worldwide industrialism did not cause as much of a stir as had Steffens's exposés of municipal corruption or Tarbell's revelations about Rockefeller or even Russell's own beef trust articles. The reason was that they were neither startling nor exposé. In fact, one observer who was bothered by the articles' obvious bias told readers to take "great critical caution" in perusing Russell's articles. He was joined by a critic who complained of the "superficial character of his survey." Another commented that Russell failed to see "fairly obvious defects" in the communal system he advocated. But others called the series "comprehensive" and "rich in instructive detail." Nonetheless, they lacked the readability of either his beef trust articles or the muckraking that was soon to follow. Russell likely learned a lesson from the muted public reaction. If he wanted to have an impact, he needed fewer charts and statistics, fewer opinions, and more anecdotes and fictionlike storytelling; the kind that had, for example, made Samuel Hopkins Adams's look at medicinal frauds such a celebrated success a year earlier.
Russell's trip around the world produced a series of articles that were sober, earnest, factual—and dry. Nonetheless the articles reached a large audience; Everybody's circulated to more than a quarter-million people, and dozens of newspapers across the country, as was the fashion then, excerpted installments as they appeared. And the articles appeared at a propitious time: the American soil was fertile and ready to be planted with the seeds of change. Asserted Hillquit: "The ground was prepared by the crusade of political and economic reform of the first years of our century, which found expression in the 'literature of exposure.'" Russell and company had zeroed in on the excesses of industrialism and on the conflict between large-scale private economic power and the needs of the people. Remedies were needed. Unhappy with the pace of change in America and sensing intractable flaws in the competitive system, journalists, labor leaders, lawyers, educators, and even millionaires began to cast their lot with the Socialist Party. Party membership doubled between 1904 and 1908, from 20,750 to 41,750. The "golden years" of socialism had begun.
Russell formally joined the party in the winter of 1908 because, he told the press, "I have become convinced of the utter futility of any other remedy for existing national evils except the remedy proposed by socialism." Russell said that the "dream of brotherhood and the end of greed" were his goals. "The socialist party is the most promising agency to bring about these ends." Russell's declaration made headlines in the Socialist press and back in his hometown in Davenport, Iowa. All of the major New York dailies devoted one or two paragraphs to the announcement. But after his declaration, Russell quickly wondered if he had made a mistake. When Robert Hunter ran as a Socialist for the New York State Assembly, Russell wrote a strong letter of support to a newspaper. But when Russell went to his first meeting of a local chapter of the party, he was publicly berated for writing it. "A lady member of the branch fitted with a prehensile tongue and a flow of oratory seldom surpassed even among her charming sex, arose and began to pour out upon my head the vials of an apparently inappeasable wrath," Russell later recalled.
Russell's error was in writing a letter that supported only one candidate, not all Socialists. "I had violated some fundamental law of the Socialist state... and apparently was deemed to have incurred eternal damnation," Russell wrote. Thus, Russell was introduced to the world of squabbling socialists and internecine warfare—a harbinger of things to come. Nonetheless, like many Progressives, he believed that Socialism offered the best chance to end the conditions that most troubled him—and America: wealth in the hands of a few, poverty for too many, slum housing, monopoly companies that made true democracy unreachable, and children and workers abused by wealthy monopoly capitalists. Observed Russell, "The palaces rise, the steam yachts sail, the figures of the great fortunes mount, and in every city the slums spread, the bread lines grow, and the number of the poor increase. The only effective treatment is to remove the cause." Russell was not giving up on exposé journalism; on the contrary, he was about to enter his most prolific period of investigative reporting. "The truth about muck-raking," he commented, "is that it is a wholesome and necessary influence and no republic can afford to be without it." But exposé, he felt, does "nothing against the fundamental system that is the source" of America's ills. A more radical remedy must be found. And a democratic socialism was it. "What we propose," Russell said in a speech soon after he declared for socialism, "is that... in the place of competition—steadily drawing resources away from the masses and into the hands of a few—which has been proved to be the curse of humanity, we shall substitute co-operative methods."
Many years later, writing in his famous autobiography, Lincoln Steffens came closer to locating the reason why Russell, whom he described as earnest, emotional and gifted, turned to socialism. Steffens recalled that Russell's face often "looked as if he had suffered from the facts he saw and reported." After meeting Russell in a chance encounter, Steffens recounted that Russell told him: "I couldn't keep it up. It was too fierce, the conditions, the facts, and what was worse, I couldn't understand them. I'd form a theory, then go out and find that the theory was all wrong. I'd set up another theory, see it blow up, and so think again and again, till I couldn't stand it. I joined the socialist party. I had to have something to believe."
In searching for a belief system, Russell was actually reaching back to his childhood and the sermons preached by his Baptist grandfather. He compared joining the party to entering the church and proving he had repented from the evil ways of capitalism. "Socialism is, after all," Russell noted, "nothing in the world but the practical application of the doctrines of Jesus." He added, "Every good Christian is a Socialist at heart." In fact, viewing Socialism as a religion was not uncommon for its believers, as Russell noted in a 1912 magazine article. "Socialism does not mean a political party organized to win elections and to secure offices. Socialism is... a religion." If this was so, Russell asked himself, what would Jesus think—and do—if the world's richest church was also America's biggest slum landlord?
CHAPTER NINE
THE SHAME OF THE WORLD'S RICHEST CHURCH
I. POVERTY AND PROGRESS
THE LOWER EAST SIDE OF MANHATTAN—an area more densely populated than Calcutta—both fascinated and repelled Charles Edward Russell when he prowled the city's neighborhood as a newspaper reporter in the 1880s and '90s. He had never seen such squalor and poverty growing up in the agrarian Midwest. "It is of a nature that one might expect to see in Chinese cities, but never in the foremost city of America," Russell commented. No Iowa farmer, he noted, "would house hogs in the way 100,000 people are housed in New York City." At times, Russell thought he had "crossed a frontier into a foreign land." In many ways, of course, New York resembled a foreign enclave. As the city's population soared from 1.5 million in 1870 to 5 million by 1910, thousands of immigrants—Germans, Italians, Jews—swarmed into unheated, unlit, waterless, and litter-filled tenements that made for horrible places to live but often brought a handsome profit for their owners. And the owner that especially caught Russell's eye was New York City's Trinity Church, "the mother of all churches." Trinity was not only the richest church in America, but it was also one of the biggest slum landlords (some said the biggest) in New York City.
For Russell, newly converted to socialism in 1908, Trinity was a sensational symbolic target. The church towered over Wall Street; from its bronze front door one could see the offices of Rockefeller's Standard Oil Company, as well as the nation's mightiest banks and insurance companies. An attack on Trinity, the church of J. Pierpont Morgan, the financier who headed the nation's "banking trust," was an attack on corporate America. Russell had worked long enough for Pulitzer and Hearst, the masters of sensationalist journalism, to know a great story when he saw one. Newspapers, in fact, had for years criticized the church, pointing out the delicious irony that one of the great moral institutions in New York City owned a slew of uninhabitable buildings. How could this pillar of the community, with one of the largest charitable outreaches in New York, reap a financial windfall from what Russell called "drunken, disreputable, decayed, topsy-turvy old houses"? Trinity had withstood these assaults for years, but Russell was determined to ask the questions again; this time in two national magazines for which he wrote three exposé articles in 1908 and 1909. The result would be his greatest achievement as a journalist and reformer as he applied the final blow to a forty-year effort to expose and eliminate the wretched tenements owned by Trinity. Eventually, Russell's attack forced the church to tear down its slums in favor of model housing, to open its financial ledgers to the public, and to radically alter its conception of the responsibilities of a Christian landlord.
Russell's assault on Trinity Church was more than symbolic, however. It raised questions about both poverty and housing, issues dear to reformers and socialists alike. Although he would not admit it, in 1908 Russell could still be counted as both. As a reformer he knew that his exposé would exert public pressure on Trinity to clean up an environment that was ruining the lives of thousands. Because reformers placed great faith in the potency of a changed physical environment, the slum cause was as important as the regulation of the "trusts" and the control of municipal corruption. "There is such a thing as a criminal mind," Russell once wrote, "but in every instance it can be traced back to environment and living conditions." Urban problems stemmed from rotten housing, not rotten hearts.
Russell saw Trinity as a wonderful example of systemic failure—capitalism had forced even a beneficent institution such as Trinity to "divide responsibility between church and Wall Street." The "system" forced even the good men of Trinity into following bad policies. While reform and regulation might ease some of the tenement's worst excesses (Russell praised the work of tenement reformers), it did not go far enough to suit Russell's increasingly radical beliefs. Thus, Russell's Trinity exposé could kill two birds with one stone: lending a hand to the forces of tenement reform that had been making slow progress in improving housing conditions while also condemning the profiteering that was—as Russell now saw it—at the root of the problem.
When Russell decided to go after Trinity, the magazine writers who had become known as the "muckrakers" had been going strong for nearly six years, ever since Ida Tarbell and Lincoln Steffens began it all in McClure's magazine with their startling exposés. Mass circulation magazines, like McClure's, Collier's, and Everybody's, each reaching upwards of a half-million people, were akin to today's television newsmagazines, such as "60 Minutes" and "20/20." They entered thousands of homes all over the country, had no competition, and had a much greater impact than newspapers, which circulated only locally. The magazines in which the muckrakers made their homes were the turn-of-the-century's town forums, the place where industrialism's excesses were being revealed, where political shenanigans were unfurled in monthly installments, and where the connection between politics and business was becoming clearer with each exposé. Most importantly, the establishment was being forced to respond to the rising public indignation and demand for reform.
The climax of it all came when Russell's best friend David Graham Phillips wrote a blistering indictment of the U.S. Senate in 1906. The articles appeared in Cosmopolitan, which had been purchased a year earlier by Russell's old boss, William Randolph Hearst, as he expanded his media empire from newspapers into magazines. "The Treason of Senate" articles accused seventeen U.S. Senators of being slaves and well-paid butlers for various corporate interests. Phillips's "Treason" articles were a wild success. Cosmopolitan could not print enough copies to keep up with demand. The public and the forces of reform were roused, but so was President Theodore Roosevelt who, in April 1906, launched his famous counterattack. Fearful that these "muck-rakers"—Roosevelt was the first to use the word publicly—were building a revolutionary fervor in the nation, Roosevelt implored the writers and the nation to remember all that was good in capitalist America. Look at the sky, not at the muck, he urged, slyly unleashing a torrent of criticism of exposé journalism. Russell understood what Roosevelt was trying to accomplish. He explained: "Whenever a depraved reformer suggests any change in this holy and perfectly authenticated order, there is first laughter, then contempt, then alarm, then a rapid banding together of the forces of righteousness [until there results] a glorious victory for the right and the total defeat of the forces of unrest
Phillips was wounded by the attacks on his articles. "I had an anxious time with him [one] Sunday, walking him around the streets while I tried to comfort him under the blow," Russell remembered. "He was terribly cut up." After the "Treason" articles, Phillips never again wrote nonfiction, sticking only to the novels that made him one of the bestselling writers in America. Russell feared the damage that Roosevelt's attack had brought. "Many of the magazine editors," he noted, "took fright at the presidential command and abandoned expose stuff." Louis Filler, the preeminent historian of the muckraking movement, concurs. After Roosevelt's 1906 speech, the legend grew that "muckraking was dead.... that the public was thoroughly 'tired' of muckraking, and that the few remaining muckrakers were mere outlaws with no following." But Russell was one of the outlaws who, at forty eight, was just beginning to hit his stride. Needing an outlet, he turned to Benjamin Hampton's New Broadway Magazine, which was a listless and dry little magazine with 12,000 readers when Hampton bought it in 1904. By 1908, with persistent muckraking articles, Hampton's circulation had soared to 480,000. Russell would have an audience.
II. "HORRIBLE THINGS... UNSPEAKABLE TERROR"
Russell first heard about Trinity Church from his father. When the family arrived in America, they were briefly housed in a ramshackle Trinity tenement. The experience led the family to leave New York. Then, when he came to New York as a reporter Russell observed and wrote about the poor victims who lived in Trinity's properties. Although it operated admirable schools and shelters, Trinity Church was also the owner of "the worst tenements in New York," Russell concluded. This, he declared, "was a disgrace to civilization and to the city of New York." The angry Russell set out to expose the Trinity-slum connection to a national audience and to pressure the church into revealing, for the first time since 1814, the extent of its wealth and income. This was no easy task. Reformers had been looking into Trinity's tenements on and off for nearly two decades and Trinity was the church of the establishment—wealthy, powerful, well connected. Its board of directors was made up of Wall Street types who ran New York City, part of the "invisible government" that Steffens had written about in his 1902 "Shame of the Cities."
As Russell and two researchers began to dig into Lower Manhattan's "pangs of poverty," finding "dirt, darkness and squalor," it was not Trinity's rulers who motivated them. It was the victims—"respectable and industrious Americans," as he called them, many of whom were to his surprise second- and third-generation citizens, victims he had seen for years but about whom he now had a reason to write. In November 1907, Russell visited dozens of the properties owned by Trinity and found "horrible things." He knocked at a door and a silver-haired, seventy-year-old woman answered. "She looked respectable and decent despite her surroundings, but the last vestige of the human spirit had long been crushed out of her," Russell found. Dressed in rags, gaunt and bent, with "unspeakable terror in her eyes," she cringed at Russell's questions. "The utter dreariness of her surroundings had shriveled away the soul of humanity," he wrote.
And then there were the children—"chalk-faced" and "growing up in terrible places" owned by Trinity, Russell wrote. One little girl in particular struck him. Her family lived behind a tiny and scantily stocked store. The girl was sick, lying on a filthy old mattress in a wooden shed that was her bedroom. Russell wrote: "The floor was filthy, the walls were bare, the room was a cold, cheerless hole." The child lay against a wall, beyond which was a backyard, "reeking of things I must not speak about," Russell said. The child was dying, as were so many of the children who "had been stupefied by the crushing misery in which they lived."17
Russell speculated that the child had tuberculosis. Thus, he argued in the three articles he wrote about Trinity Church, the public had a vital self-interest in forcing a cleanup of the slums. When a reader complained that Russell had no right to attack a private church because it was "none of his business," Russell responded angrily. On the contrary, he wrote, "Such tenements as Trinity maintains are a very grave and incessant menace to the public health," the worst of all breeding places for tuberculosis. "Don't clean them up because your heart bleeds for the dying and suffering children," he observed with a note of sarcasm, clean them because if you don't "the germs of the rag-picker's child" would inevitably be "communicated to our own children or to ourselves."
Beyond the threat of disease was the matter of taxes. Since Trinity made few improvements on its properties, the area where its properties abounded lagged far behind all others in Manhattan in producing tax revenue. Self-interest, not humanity, was the issue. Arguing for change for practical over humanitarian reasons became one of Russell's themes. He was hoping that the pragmatic American business spirit was more likely to respond to appeals to self-interest. So, for example, in 1911 he implored businessmen to combat poverty and poor urban housing because if they did not, he argued they would have no market for their goods and no workers for their factories. "You cannot achieve national success with a race of tenement house scarecrows," Russell wrote. Simply put, Russell said, "to tolerate slums does not pay. It is not good for business."
It is unlikely that Russell had all that much enthusiasm for his own self-interest arguments—or that public health and tax revenue were the real motivating factors for the preacher's grandson. He was angry at the conditions of Trinity's tenements and his heart bled at the sight of suffering children. "Every protest against them [the tenements] is a service to our children," he wrote. When Trinity's defenders attacked his articles, Russell said he had no objection to the criticism. "I am glad to be called 'a muck-raker,'" he said. "The only thing I object to is living in a world full of needless horrors and suffering without uttering one word of protest, however feeble and unheard." Russell's articles did not go unheard.
All through the winter and spring of 1908,Russell and two assistants visited scores of Trinity properties in Lower Manhattan—138 on Hudson Street alone; 66 on Varick Street; 26 on Charlton Street; another 26 on Canal Street; and a dozen on Clarkson Street. "Wherever you walk in this dreadful region, you find something that Trinity owns," Russell said. Usually, he said with a sneer, it was a simple matter to discover which tenements were Trinity's. "Whenever I saw a house that looked as if it were about to fall down, one that looked in every way rotten and weary and dirty and disreputable, I found that it was owned by Trinity," he wrote. Beyond pounding the pavements, Russell pored over whatever documents he could get his hands on, although he got little help from Trinity. Slowly, he pieced together the history, finances, and tenement records of the church.
Trinity's growth into the most powerful church in America was closely intertwined with the city's growth. The church built its first chapel in 1696 when the Dutch and British controlled New York. Then, in 1704, England's Queen Anne gave Trinity possession of two large farms. As the city's population soared, the church parceled out its land for the building of houses. But the church did not build; it simply leased the land while others built housing, a pattern it maintained up to the time Russell wrote his exposé. When leases on property expired, Trinity would often take control of the buildings; in this way it inherited buildings but was never saddled with the cost of construction—or the burden or maintaining the property. Trinity soon became a wealthy landlord, receiving, as Russell wrote, "a steadily waxing tide of gold," profits that "made the church rich."
The church became richer in 1814 when New York State passed legislation—for reasons that were never understood—that allowed Trinity to take possession of all the property in New York City that had previously been held by a number of Presbyterian churches. The parishioners of these churches objected strenuously and New York's governor refused to sign the new legislation, even though it became law when the governor did not veto it. But the 1814 law marked a significant turning point for Trinity Church: first, it was the beginning of many years of public criticism of the church that dogged it up until Russell's articles. "From 1814 to this day the history of Trinity has been a story of conflict," Russell concluded, with Trinity "accused of almost every conceivable offense."
Second, the 1814 law relieved Trinity of any obligation of reporting to the public or its parishioners anything about its finances. "From this time on," Russell found, "it has never been possible for any person outside of the [church's] vestry to gather any information as to the business of Trinity." Russell's sarcastic rhetoric, so characteristic of his writing, was applied without temperance. "Impenetrable secrecy; rule of absolute silence; more secret than any mystic order; an unlifted curtain; an appendage to medievalism." Russell applied these phrases to Trinity, which he labeled a "Church of Mystery." This phrase particularly galled the church's officials who rebuked the press for invoking this damning slogan. For ninety-three years, Russell declared, no one "has been able to learn the simplest facts" about Trinity Church. How does it spend its money? How much money does it have? How much property does it own? Those were the questions Russell began asking. He found "very able lawyers, skilled cross examiners, [and] famous ferrets of the bar, have taken in hand the task of discovering at least the form and shape and extent of the Mystery: universally they have failed to discover anything."
By working in much the same way as a modern investigative reporter, however, Russell discovered more about the church than most had. He utilized at least one secret source, combed every available public document (records compiled by state investigators, the church's annual reports, city tax records), interviewed many residents of Trinity's properties, and spoke with church officials in a fruitless effort to get the church to respond to the allegations he was about to make. His best hope for information was the Reverend Morgan Dix, who at eighty-one years of age had been rector of Trinity for forty-six years. Although suffering from asthma, Dix was still firmly in charge, preaching in slow, measured cadences each Sunday to his wealthy congregation. For years he had defended Trinity against criticism, but much like a skillful attorney he was always careful not to reveal too much. Instead, he took the public relations tack of attacking the "organs of public opinion" which "go beyond their proper province."
When Russell came to visit—with a considerable reputation of his own as a powerful New York City newsman—Dix had at least to grant him an interview, but he didn't have much to say. Russell was a man of dignity; he did not drink, nor did he like to frequent the taverns so popular with other newsmen. He was comfortable visiting with a minister, but he was clearly uncomfortable with the minister's policies. Dix told Russell that souls were his concern, not profits, and that he did not know much about the business of the Trinity Corporation. What he did know was that the leaders of the church, all prominent businessmen, names well known in New York City—Chauncey and Delafield, Fish and Parsons, Schermerhorn and Swords—had been unfairly accused. "The high standing of these gentlemen is a sufficient refutation of any such innuendoes," said Dr. Dix. Russell agreed but added, tongue in cheek, "I cannot help a lingering wish that some of them were of standing not so high and had ways of life that did not lead so straight to Wall Street, where the great money hunger is."
When Dix proved little help, Russell turned to Trinity's chief financial officer, comptroller Henry Cammann, a fifty-year-old, bearded, gray-haired, soft-spoken man, "a good man of integrity and ability," Russell concluded. But like Dix, he had little to say. Russell told Cammann that his research indicated that Trinity had spent $152,139 in 1906 but that $401,157 was unaccounted for.
"Your figures for the parish are not correct," Cammann replied.
"What are the correct figures?" Russell asked.
"It does not seem best to the vestry to take the public into our confidence concerning that matter," Cammann answered.
"Not," Russell responded, "when there has been so much controversy about this very point, so many bitter attacks against Trinity have been based upon it, and a word from you would make everything clear, putting an end to misrepresentation that must be both painful and harmful to the church?"
"No," Cammann told Russell, "not even on those grounds. We have found that everything we make public only invites further criticism, and it seems best, therefore, to say nothing."
"But you have made nothing public since 1814, have you?"
"No, not since 1814," Cammann replied.
And so Russell was left to speculate on the wealth of Trinity Church. His series began in April 1908 with "Trinity: Church of Mystery" as the lead article in Hampton's New Broadway Magazine, It was accompanied by photographs of the church's towering spire overlooking Broadway at the foot of Wall Street. "This is not a muck-raking article," Hampton declared in an editor's note, an odd statement since, sentences later, he said that Russell was about to "lift the veil" behind which Trinity had hidden for so many years. Despite Hampton's statement, what followed was classic muckraking, an effective combination of rhetorical flourishes, dramatic narrative, and facts. Hampton knew he had a winner with Russell's articles. After a career in advertising, Hampton had a shrewd marketing feel and good judgment on what would interest the public. No wonder he had taken his magazine to a half-million circulation in 1907. In Russell's first article, he wrote, "I have no quarrel with Trinity." This was somewhat disingenuous since all Russell did for the next four months was quarrel with a church that was hiding, he wrote with some hyperbole, "the most remarkable business secret in the country."
Russell's first attack on Trinity was part moral tale, part sermon, and considerable history. Relying heavily on documents compiled by a New York State Senate investigation of the church's finances, Russell wrote as much about what couldn't be found—that is, details of the church's finances—as he did about what could. His concluding point: this church has done "things impossible to reconcile with Christian character." A month later Russell lifted the curtain a bit more on the mystery, using statistics printed in various New York newspapers over nearly a decade, to speculate on the church's income and expenses.
In July, Russell climaxed his exposé with his most biting article. He guided an imaginary group of "inquiring and well-fed tourists"—and the readers of Everybody's magazine, which published the third article—on a tour of Trinity's tenements. "Come inside and see how you like it," Russell implored. He took them first to Lower Manhattan, not far from Hudson Park where a few chalk-faced children played. Behind the children, Russell pointed to the "frowsy, scaly, slatternly, bleary, decayed, and crumbling old houses, leering from dirty windows like old drunkards through bloodshot eyes." Russell told the tourists, "All about is the hell of the East Side tenement-house region." But Russell was not asking his audience to simply lament the bad housing conditions found in so much of New York. He asked: "Drunken, disreputable, decayed, topsy-turvy old houses, the homes of thousands of families and the breeding-places for so many children that are to carry on the world's work – who owns these terrible places? Who draws the wretched profit of their existence?" The answer was obvious: "Trinity Church, holder of one of the greatest estates in New York or in the country, owns many of them. This is the heart of her possessions: street after street is lined with her properties." "Wherever you walk in this dreadful region," Russell commented, "you find something that Trinity owns, and, as a rule, it is something that you know she ought not to own."
Russell led the tourists further on their tour. He took them up the broken stairs of one tenement on Hudson Street. "The halls are narrow, dark, dirty, and smell abominably," he wrote. No natural light was found, no ventilation, a horrible odor – "a prolific breeding place for the germs of tuberculosis." One tap of running water had to suffice for several families. Leaving the tenement, Russell brought the tourists to a backyard where garbage was strewn all over, "a horror into which you set your foot with an uncontrollable physical revulsion against the loathsome contamination." To his shocked tourists, Russell commented: "Human beings actually live in these places; many human beings; and pay for the privilege." But listing properties and describing them was not enough for Russell—he needed to show the people living in the Trinity tenements.
The children always came first. Russell wrote, "I have now in mind some pictures that stand out above the others of the horrible things I saw in my wanderings here." Once, he spotted five young children leaving a Trinity tenement. One had a running sore on her ear; all of them looked sickly. They were dirty, pale, dull, "stupefied by the crushing misery in which they lived." No wonder, he added, so many turned to crime. "If you wished to rear a criminal, do you think you could devise a better training place?" In an aside, Russell told his tourists that one would think the residents of the Trinity tenements must be from Naples or Palermo. "So you think," he said. "But these are not foreigners. These are Americans; respectable and industrious Americans... old-time residents of the Eighth Ward."
Why, Russell asked the tourists, would a Christian church, that had so many wonderful charitable outreaches, treat people this way? It must be, he said, sarcastically, that the church's elders simply believed that "tenement house dwellers do not have feelings like ours. They are differently constituted, their fibers are different... they do not feel the pangs of poverty or mind the dirt, darkness, squalor." It must be so, Russell continued, because "I have heard it urged by very learned and wise persons." Still, he wondered, what was it like on the night of March 29, 1896, when two men and two women were killed in a fire in a Trinity tenement on Hudson Street. Wrote Russell, "While the fiber of the people that live in tenements is different from the fiber of the rest of us, it is not sufficiently different to prevent such people from being burned, nor from having their bones broken if they fall far enough."
How could Trinity Church draw an income from these tenements? "You would want to have the money disinfected before it touched your hand, would you not?" he asked. But he knew indeed that the church was making great profits. "Much profit, very great profit," was how he characterized it. Russell ended as he had begun, addressing his audience about the "extraordinary story" that he had just told. No one knew the extent of Trinity's holdings, the extent of its wealth or revenue, nor what it did with its money. "Strange conditions," Russell said. "But stranger than all is this: that a Christian church should be willing to take money from such tenements as Trinity owns in the old Eighth Ward."28
III. A MUCKRAKING TRIUMPH
Despite years of agitation against Trinity's secrecy and its slum tenements, nothing struck such a responsive chord with the public as did Russell's articles. To make matters worse, after Russell's first two articles appeared, the Reverend Dix died on April 30 after an asthma attack; some blamed the pressure from Russell's articles for Dix's death. "It was poignantly suggested that grief and chagrin over the attacks upon his corporation had caused his death," Russell recalled. "Muck-raking had become murder." Meanwhile, newspapers throughout the nation, from Seattle to Boston, published summaries of Russell's allegations. The Socialist New York Call labeled Trinity "hell's chief recruiting station" and called her tenements "the worst in the world." Hearst's New York Journal ran a full-page cartoon showing Trinity's pulpit hovering over slum tenements.
Other publications came to the church's defense, however, echoing sentiments expressed by muckraker Ray Stannard Baker, who was a bit perplexed that this "most notable church in America" was "curiously under attack during recent months." Baker agreed with Russell that Trinity had a long and somewhat disreputable history, that its finances had remained closed for too long, that even churches needed to be accountable to the citizenry, and that it was good that "democracy stands knocking at last at the closed doors of Old Trinity." But his investigative reporting found different facts about Trinity's tenements, which, he wrote, "are not as bad as I expected to find." Surprisingly, Baker repeated the arguments Trinity made in its defense: its buildings were no worse than others in the area; its rents were very low; none of the properties supported saloons or prostitution; and the church did not own many of the buildings, just the land, and thus had no control over their condition. These were the exact arguments found in the church-related publications that apologized also for Trinity's behavior—and criticized Russell. "Some of the buildings may be old. Their condition may be run down," church comptroller Cammann told one New York newspaper, "but it all depends upon the vigilance of the authorities. The city and the lessees are responsible; not the Trinity Corporation." To Russell, however, those weren't excuses for misery. He held the church responsible for the properties from which it profited. In fact, Russell had anticipated that Trinity's defenders would claim they had no jurisdiction over buildings the church did not own. "I know that well enough," Russell repeated three times in his final article on the church. "To rent property and permit it to become a breeding-place for tuberculosis is exactly as bad as to rent it for immoral purposes," Russell declared. Trinity's defense was based on a technicality but not morality.
Aside from reaching different conclusions about Trinity, the differences between the ideologies and journalism styles of Russell and Baker are evident in their approaches to Trinity. Those differences, in fact, reflect a split that was developing in the muckraking movement and in journalism. Furthermore, they reveal how Russell was veering away from the establishment pack and moving beyond the Progressive ideal that a bit of tinkering with the existing social system would cure the ailments the muckrakers were revealing. Russell was too angry to be so optimistic, and his heart was telling him that something deeper was at stake here. His belief that a changed environment was a key element in shaping behavior put him comfortably in the progressive-liberal camp. But his insistence that the never-ending lust for profit and private accumulation of wealth was the cause put him in the camp of the radicals—those radicals whom Roosevelt had attempted to slow down. Only Russell and Upton Sinclair ever publicly embraced Socialism and sought to rebuke capitalism. Steffens flirted with communism many years later but the dozen of so writers in the muckraking tribe generally were moderates. At the very least, however, Russell's Trinity articles showed him to be angrier than the rest of the muckrakers.
Baker, on the other hand, known for his fastidious reporting, factuality, and balance, was more typical. His reporting mirrored a growing concern in journalism about fairness and neutrality. The American magazine, where Baker, Tarbell, and Steffens went after leaving McClure's in a controversial 1908 split, was engaged in a debate about the direction of journalism. Steffens wanted to offer solutions; Tarbell and Baker insisted that more facts were needed. Russell agreed with Steffens. He was working more in the crusading tradition that he had learned working under Pulitzer and Hearst. Facts were important, but they needed to point to solutions. Baker wanted balance. For example, he not only gave Trinity's defense of its tenement holdings; he also documented its missionary and philanthropic activities. His writing was far less rhetorical and sarcastic than Russell's. "I shall here set down the facts," Baker wrote. And while he too indicted Trinity ("The plain fact is that Trinity did not care for the people"), he did so in a tone of moderation, writing caustically but cautiously. Baker was professorial, more in the "information" mode typified by the New York Times; Russell was a fire-and-brimstone preacher, more an outraged advocate than educator. While Baker was bent on educating, Russell was campaigning. "The price of a battle-ship would build sanitary, airy, and spacious homes for 20,000 persons; such assets as the great insurance companies possess would turn all the slums of New York into civilized habitations," Russell wrote. Baker would never make such connections.
Who was correct in the end on the condition of Trinity's tenements? Were they as bad as Russell depicted or were they typical of what existed in New York but no worse than many others tenements, as Baker indicated? "Facts" might seem to support Baker, but results supported Russell. One of the first results of Russell's exposé was that Trinity Church hired Emily Wayland Dinwiddie, an inspector with New York's Tenement House Department, to investigate its housing. Dinwiddie was supervised by a respected former city official, and the investigation was said to be independent of church officials, conducted by a private organization. No one questioned its integrity. "No effort has been spared to get at the real conditions," Dinwiddie said.
Dinwiddie gave Trinity virtually a clean bill of health, but one must read her report carefully to learn the reasons why. After a house-to-house inspection, she concluded that "sensationally bad conditions were not found in the tenements and smaller dwelling houses owned and controlled by Trinity Church." In fact, 96 percent of the 810 apartments and 334 buildings were in relatively good condition. Only 12 buildings were in bad condition. Dinwiddie saw little overcrowding, with two families per house, which was better than the average for the rest of the city. Sanitation was a problem in only 2 percent of the buildings, while 85 percent of the families had their own water supply and 60 percent had their own toilets. The Trinity buildings, Dinwiddie found, were in "marked contrast" to others in the area. "Whether the result of contentment or of apathy, the length of residence common among the tenants does not indicate active dissatisfaction," she wrote.
Dinwiddie's report was flawed, however. The problems were threefold. First, she constantly compared Trinity's buildings to others in the region. Lower Manhattan was notorious at the turn of the century for its horrid tenement conditions. It was hardly comforting to know that Trinity's buildings were better than the awful ones surrounding them. Second, it is difficult to know what standards Dinwiddie was using to measure cleanliness and safety. If the standards were those allowed by the laws of 1909, then her high marks for Trinity might be understandable. Those standards left much to be desired and, even if met, they would still make for conditions that were wholly inadequate. Even the Reverend William T. Manning, who took over when Reverend Dix died, conceded that "there is some of the property the condition of which is far from being what it ought to be."
But the third and most serious flaw in Dinwiddie's report was in what she didn't discuss—the tenements that Trinity did not own but that sat on its property. Dinwiddie said she wanted to include these properties (there may have been as many as three hundred) but that the owners refused to allow her access to make an inspection, saying that Trinity had no legal control over them. What this meant, of course, was that the worst of Trinity's buildings—albeit ones the church didn't own—were left out of Dinwiddie's report. While Trinity's defense—that it could not force changes over property it did not control—was technically valid, everyone knew that it had for years done little to gain control over the buildings, that it had simply ignored the horrible conditions and collected rents. Its position was legally justifiable but morally indefensible. These were the buildings that Russell had focused on, not unfairly, and they were the ones that desperately needed attention. Russell knew it, Baker knew it, and Trinity's overlords knew it also.
One other fact made Dinwiddie's investigation especially suspect. Soon after she completed her investigation, she was hired by the church to supervise the improvement of Trinity's properties. Did her favorable findings get her the job with Trinity? Did she alter any conclusions in order to please the powerful and rich Trinity administrators? Although it is common enough today for regulators to take jobs with those they regulate, certainly questions are raised by her joining forces with Trinity so soon after her "independent" investigation.
Trinity Church had warded off attacks on its character and properties for nearly one hundred years. However, the combination of the surging tide of Progressive reform, an unrelated action by the church to disassociate itself from one of its nearby parish churches, and the appointment of a new rector, Reverend Manning, made change in response to Russell's articles inevitable.
Three months after Russell's last article, Trinity announced plans to close St. John's Chapel, one of the ten churches it controlled, and consolidate its operation with the nearby St. Luke's Church. The church cited financial concerns but moreover asserted that the two churches had overlapping congregations; efficiency of operation made the change necessary. Whatever the reason, the announcement caused a furor, just what a church already under fire didn't need. "The floodgates of criticism opened wide," one historian asserted. And the critics' easiest point of attack was the slum tenements owned by the church. Reverend Manning had responded privately to the Russell articles by appointing a committee to make a personal study of the church's holdings. "I say unhesitatingly," Manning declared, "that as property owners... we are bound to do everything in our power" to improve conditions. "We ought to set not only a high standard, but the very highest. Far better, if necessary, that all our charities should be given up... than that we should maintain any of them by revenue derived from properties in an unsanitary or questionable condition."
Manning knew also that aside from tackling the tenement issue, he needed to rid the church of its air of mystery. Thus, the church began the year 1909 by slipping into the pews of its parishioners one Sunday morning a detailed financial statement—the first since 1814—for the Trinity Corporation. This was a clear victory for Russell. The Times put the story on page one, and as far west as St. Louis, newspapers applauded the action, declaring "a tremendous victory for publicity... a recognition of the people's right to know what a big corporation does with the money it handles." Russell had estimated that Trinity had assets totaling $39 million, but the church said its assets were only $14 million. This still made it the wealthiest church in the world. The church said it made only $732,741 on rents from its properties. "This property is not, as has been often asserted, a source of large revenue to the parish. It is quite the reverse," the report asserted. Furthermore, the report said that the properties were not in the terrible condition that some had charged; nevertheless, the church was planning large-scale improvements to many properties.
The extent of those changes became clear a month later when the church, to everyone's shock, announced that it would no longer continue as a landlord and that it would sell all of its real estate, except for that housing its churches and offices. As long as the church had any tenements, an unnamed source told the Times, it would be criticized. The source then repeated what had become Trinity's frequent refrain: the properties were not as bad as had been charged. Citing Russell's articles on Trinity's tenements, the church said the pictures accompanying the text were of buildings not owned by the church—but of course the church did own the land. Despite moving forward to change the practices that had drawn criticism, the church was also carefully plotting a public-relations defense strategy: hit back at the critics who were overstepping their journalistic limits; emphasize the positive by citing the church's charitable work; and obfuscate and confuse the issues by reiterating how its hands were tied on properties it did not own.
In April Reverend Manning spoke publicly for the first time in defense of the church he had headed for nearly a year. "The air has been full of the most astonishing statements... which no serious person could have been expected to believe," Manning said. "Honest difference of judgment" was one thing, "but the recent discussion can hardly be said to have been conducted in the spirit of generous and helpful criticism." Manning then responded to Russell. Since the church had opened its books to the public—an act, he said, that had been planned before the criticism—"it can never be said again that Trinity pursues a policy of secrecy or of mystery." As to the conditions of Trinity's tenements, the charges were "grossly untrue." Years later, still stinging from Manning's denial, Russell said he always asked one question of his critics: "You say these tenement houses are not really bad. Would you like to live in one of them? Take the best of them all. Would you like to live in it?"
The answer from Manning was no, he would not. While he continued to offer the standard Trinity arguments about low rents and tolerable conditions, he maintained the church's new position: it would do whatever it took to clean up all the tenements, those the church owned and those that sat on its property. Such a decision did not come easily, because inside the church many opposed Manning's decision to spend considerable sums to make improvements. Dinwiddie forced the church to acquire houses as leases expired, as Russell suggested the church could. She made sure also that the church kept rents low for large families. By 1910, however, 225 tenements had been taken down by the church as not worth reconditioning. By 1916, the 367 houses owned by Trinity were in good condition and a credit to the parish. The city's newspapers actually began to feature stories about Trinity's model tenements.
Charles Edward Russell and the forces of tenement house reform that had been building in New York City for two decades had forced America's wealthiest church to do the right thing—finally. Many years after the victory, Russell was exultant, recalling how his family had been forced to live in a terrible Trinity tenement. He commented, "The grandson of the émigré of that day had the pleasure of seeing that old rookery destroyed as a result of a campaign he had instigated." Unfortunately for the residents of Trinity's tenements, Russell added, "It was a work of grace sixty years delayed."
CHAPTER TEN
EVIL PRISONS, RACE RIOTS, JUSTICE DENIED
I. THE "ABOMINABLE" PRISONS OF GEORGIA
AMERICA WAS IN THE THROES OF GREAT POLITICAL and social change in 1908, and keeping the status quo was not an option for a society suffering from the excesses of industrialism. The explosion of its urban immigrant populations, a rise in labor-capital tension, and a growing gap between rich and poor led to problems America could not afford to ignore, at least not without running the risk of serious upheaval. The unregulated capitalism that had grown exponentially since the Civil War needed to be restrained. Republican President Theodore Roosevelt, fearful that a social revolution might brew without change, had moved forcefully but carefully after taking over when William McKinley was assassinated in 1901. To meet some of the problems brought into the open by the muckrakers' exposés—notably the threat of monopolies, the poisoning of food, consumer rip-offs in insurance, and big money influence on politics—Roosevelt began to enlarge the federal government's role in regulating commerce. Laissez-faire was out; moderate government intervention was in. Reform would do the trick, the Progressives argued, to the chagrin of many radicals who felt that reform was a bandage that would not cure the disease of the profit-making machine. Socialism had become a particularly attractive alternate in the early years of the century. Why not allow the government to own and operate some key industries? This blasphemy, of course, particularly irked the Social Darwinists and even the moderates. The search for a cure to America's new-century ills was on.
At the heart of awakening the public to America's problems and to the variety of both reform and radical options faced by a maturing industrial society were the muckraking journalists—Ida Tarbell, Lincoln Steffens, Ray Stannard Baker, Samuel Hopkins Adams, and Charles Edward Russell. Writing in mass-circulation magazines that were reaching millions of Americans, this band of exposé journalists wrote nearly two thousand articles and a handful of books describing the excesses of industrialism and the impact those excesses were having on a public that increasingly felt anxious about its future. Progressivism was in fact largely a journalistic mentality. In other words, it was the journalists who were feeding the public with the facts that were fueling both their anger and anxiety. But the journalists who were at the brink of suggesting the solutions to the problems that they were exposing were feuding among themselves about the direction their work should take in 1908, and about whether it was even their responsibility to propose solutions.
Steffens, considered the prototypical muckraker, was not so sure it was a good thing to even be considered one. In a letter to Upton Sinclair on the occasion of Edmund Wilson's criticism of the muckrakers, he commented: "The fact that he lumps us is a bad sign." Russell, on the other hand, gloried in the appellation; he saw it as a badge of honor. Soon after his articles on the beef trust were published in 1905, Russell commented, "I have been muck-raking ever since. I hope to keep on muck-raking. I like to muck-rake." But not all the muckrakers sided with Russell. Many of the famous exposé journalists were actually befuddled in 1908 about the direction of journalism—and of America. They wondered whether enough facts had been placed on the table for Americans to see the problems and solutions clearly enough. In 1904 Steffens had warned his colleagues at McClure's magazine: "Look out for editorializing. That's easy and it doesn't count for much without the facts." When he wrote a series of articles on race in America in 1906 Baker declared that only "facts" would fill his articles. But Steffens, a few scant years after his warning to his colleagues, changed his tune when the staff of McClure's moved over to the American magazine. By 1908 he was declaring, "We have the facts. The time has come to discuss the cause of our American corruption—and cures." At the beginning of 1908, Russell seemed to be listening to both Baker and Steffens.
The year 1908 was momentous for the nation and for Russell. Roosevelt decided not to run for the presidency again, and he turned over the mantel of leadership to William Howard Taft, a conservative man who was elected but not able to stem either the rising tide of Progressivism that was sweeping all levels of government or the growing fervor for Socialism. Russell for his part began pounding away at America's obsession with profit-making while at the same time he moved to expose new ills that had been largely ignored by the muckrakers. He published sixteen articles in national magazines—including his attack on Trinity Church—as well as a book about lawless American corporations. In that year he also mounted his next big crusade, this time against cruelty and injustice in American prisons. He began the year and set the tone for how he was viewing the world by telling a national audience in Human Life magazine about John D. Rockefeller, the Standard Oil magnate who epitomized the best and worst of American capitalism. Russell had observed Rockefeller since his reporting days in New York. He covered Rockefeller at a trial in 1891, watching him in the courtroom, "that long, firm jaw, the cold, thin lips drawn over the death-like face of a corpse, the pallid skin, the face as cold as death, as hard as steel." Russell concluded, "all he wants is possession, accumulation." Those lips seemed to say, "Get money. Get money." What a sad example Rockefeller was for America's youth, he wrote. "How do we benefit by teaching young men to sneer at reform, scoff at democracy, and view gain as the chief end of man"? Russell was no less critical of J. Pierpont Morgan, the other archetypal capitalist who, rumor had it, was the man behind the banking trust that had a stranglehold on the American economy. "At the lifting of the Morgan finger," he noted, "the financial heart is elated or depressed" by this man who had spent "fifty years of money grubbing." Why did Americans admire the "wholly barren and bitter existence" of a man "whose sole pursuit is gain"? Expressing both disgust and anger, Russell pleaded to a national audience: "Let us have some one blessed thing done in this country on some other basis than that of dollars." America needed to "deal with causes," he declared, seemingly ready to plunge into offering solutions. But many hidden facts were still to be revealed, and muckraking of conditions was still needed. "The best way to abolish the muckraker is to abolish the muck," he said. And so he turned his attention to the deep muck that surrounded America's prisons.
Sometime in 1907 Everybody's magazine received a letter from a young man, an ex-prisoner who told of his experience in the Georgia prison system. It's unclear why he wrote to Everybody's, but not surprising. A national magazine with a monthly circulation near 500,000, it had consistently muckraked on a wide range of issues, publishing fiction and nonfiction by the likes of Owen Wister, David Graham Phillips, Frank Norris, Alfred Henry Lewis, O. Henry, Booth Tarkington, and Booker T. Washington. Begun originally as the house organ of department store owner John Wanamaker, the magazine was sold to Erman J. Ridgway in 1903. Ridgway enlisted Russell to write his beef trust articles in 1905 and sent him on an around-the-world trip to investigate social conditions in other countries in 1906. But his magazine especially made its mark in 1904–5 when it published the revelations of Wall Street insider Thomas Lawson, whose "frenzied finance" exposé shocked the nation and sent the magazine's circulation soaring. Ridgway turned the letter over to Russell, who was already investigating Trinity Church. He assigned him a researcher, little-known journalist Hugh C. Weir, and the two unfolded the story of a fresh-faced boy who entered a Georgia prison for a minor burglary and came out a brutalized victim—and a criminal. Everybody's editors labeled it "the terrible story of life in a Georgia convicts' camp" that symbolized "conditions existing in every part of the United States."
In storylike fashion that did not stop to give statistics or background on Georgia's prison system, Russell dramatically told the youth's shocking tale in narrative fashion. The tale of woe began in an Atlanta courtroom where the young man—whose identity was "carefully guarded"—pleaded guilty to stealing $300 from his employer's cash drawer. "He was no familiar and hardened criminal," yet he was sentenced to four years. The next day, shaved and shorn and wearing the stripes of a convict, he was placed on exhibition in front of agents for private contractors. Georgia had no prisons in 1908; in fact had not had any since the Civil War. With an upsurge in prisoners after the war—mostly black men—Georgia simply abolished its penitentiaries in 1879 and began to lease its prisoners to companies which paid the state $500,000 in twenty annual installments. "A very strange device," Russell said, selling people into the "the hands of private and irresponsible persons...." He compared it to slavery. "Fifty years before... another man had gone similarly up and down another line, making similar selections for service. But the service of fifty years ago had been called slavery," he told the nation. In fact, this same argument had been made by W. E. B. Du Bois, the articulate black scholar and a friend of Russell's. "The convict lease system," Du Bois had declared, is "slavery in private hands... a direct child of slavery." And after all, Russell added, sarcastically, "Convicts and Negroes, we have decided, are outside the pale of humanity, having no souls, nor rights nor feelings."
At first the young convict was hopeful he would survive prison. But, Russell noted, "the battered old hulks of professional criminals" drifted by him and they "shook the spirit of bravado. He did not want to end up like these men." One old bank robber was convinced that the kid was a professional criminal. "You're in the bank-sneak line, ain't you?" he asked, as Russell used dialect to re-create conversations. The kid answers, "I was thinking what I can do to keep straight when I get out of here." The man laughs. "Do you suppose anybody ever came in here and kept straight afterward... a crook you'll stay till the end of your days." This was Russell's first point: the prison system ruined rather than reformed people. "We are engaged in our favorite national pursuit of dosing the symptoms of an evil instead of cutting out its source," Russell wrote. It was a theme he would trumpet for the next decade. "It is the system, not the individual, that is as fault."
The system in this case was convict leasing, which allowed the state to make money off prisoners, elected officials to receive contributions from the companies leasing the prisoners, and prisoners to be brutalized without oversight. "The whole thing is utterly and incurably and hopelessly evil," Russell declared, "probably the most atrocious thing of the kind on this earth and the foulest blot on our civilization." Eventually, the young convict, George, was taken to a remote camp to make bricks. "Nobody knew what went on there, and nobody cared," said Russell. His first breakfast consisted of greasy corn bread and salt pork, which he had to eat with his hands. Worms crawled in the pork, which another prisoner ate when George couldn't. While a man with a rifle stood watch, the prisoners—men and women—filled 300-pound wheel-barrows with 50 to 70 bricks; 105 loads a day were required. When a prisoner failed to meet the minimum, he was strapped to a barrel in front of the other prisoners as two men held him down and a guard with a leather belt three feet long whipped him. Through it all, the man on the barrel "screams a horrible shrill scream of unutterable pain," Russell wrote. The whippings were supposed to be reported but only one in twenty was.
The narrative, written in a seamless fashion with little commentary, gets only more gruesome as one prisoner, rheumatic and unable to meet the daily workload, is whipped and left to die. Others, working in cold swampy water, contract pneumonia. And, despite state rules about conditions, the young convict realizes that no one heeds or enforces any regulations. "All these rules were as if they had never existed," offers Russell. George realizes he is of no concern to Georgia or the company to which he has been sold. "Between the two he is the lost and forgotten outcast and pariah... nobody cares. Why, then, should the convict care what war he makes upon the society that has thrust him into a pit and left him there?"
Finally George's time came to be released. A guard says to him when he leaves. "Well, I suppose you are going to yegg it," meaning that he was going back to a life of crime. And George said, "By god, I am." He went back to Atlanta and turned burglar. Asked Russell: "And was he the only man that went forth from those gates resolved to prey upon the society that had preyed upon him? I think not." Self-interest alone should make Georgia eliminate the prison-leasing system. Otherwise, "the world at large must pay too dearly." One would think, Russell reasoned, that "our common humanity" would force an end to "this abominable system... this cancer." But dollars interfere with sense. Russell documented the profit made by the state, which, when relieved of a prison system, did nothing but make money from the labor of its prisoners. "These profits are the sole returns from a system that multiplies criminals, breeds brutality, encourages crime, and puts upon one of the fairest states in the Union a hideous blot. If the profits were a thousand times as great, they would be dear at that price." The Georgia lease system gave Russell his chance to make a frontal attack on the never-ending urge to make profits as the cause of the prisoner abuse, but instead his attack was muted. Certainly, he didn't blame the people of Georgia, who "abhor the system... never chose it nor wanted it nor approved of it. They have always loathed it.... And yet this hateful thing continues." Why? The people "have no direct control of their own affairs; and, second, the system is profitable to very powerful interests." It was classic Progressive reasoning: the "people" have no power over the "interests."
The response to Russell's revelations, not unlike his Trinity articles, was immediate and considerable, more than perhaps he or Everybody's editors could have imagined. "The people of Georgia have been intensely aroused over this record of incompetence and brutality and greed," one writer noted. Mass meetings occurred in a number of cities. One Sunday in Atlanta there was a monster meeting in the city's opera house. The members of the state legislature were inundated with letters, telegrams, and petitions. One Georgia citizen commented that Russell's article was "the spark that set off the powder that is now exploding in the legislative halls of Georgia." A doctor testifying at a public hearing said he had just returned from England where even the British knew of the conditions and were attacking Georgia. The exposé "has made us stink in the nostrils of civilized people the world over." One legislator, demanding an investigation, called the scandal "a stain upon our civilization and an insult to humanity." The newspapers, long silent on the prison lease system, now began to pick up Russell's trail of evidence and scandal. "Georgia's fair name has been trailed in the dirt in magazines and elsewhere for too long," declared the Americus Times Recorder. Added the Cordele Rambler, "We have been advertised to the world as allowing all kinds of cruelty, graft and corruption, and nothing short of an investigation will place us in good standing again."
The squeals of indignation forced the Georgia legislature to take up the issue, albeit reluctantly, as some legislators tried to argue that the system should be investigated and perhaps reformed but not yet repealed. But as hearings got under way in July, it became impossible for the legislature not to act. First it was revealed that, in violation of law, misdemeanor convicts were farmed out along with felony offenders. Then testimony confirmed the poor food, filthy living conditions, and the brutal overwork. Three brick companies were found to be the worst offenders. "Some of the convicts are being worked harder than beasts," one legislator declared. Russell's story of one convict, as headlines throughout Georgia trumpeted, was just the tip of the iceberg as the legislature pored over 18,000 prison reports from a six-year period. Then the final blow to the existing lease system was applied when an eyewitness testified that he had seen convicts beaten to death. Day after day the evidence mounted—convicts being lined up and sold like slaves; cruelty and beatings in various camps; wardens taking money for leasing to favorite companies; a contractor who made $300,000 in a five-year deal with the state; state commissioners who knew of the graft money. One former warden admitted publicly that he took bribes. Perhaps the most pitiful case was that of a white sixteen-year-old who threw coffee on a warden's hog and then was beaten so brutally by guards that he died, allegedly of "tuberculosis." Some of the testimony was "unprintable," one writer commented. By early August the prison commission was defending its actions—but no one was buying it. The Atlanta Constitution in an editorial printed in bold face capital letters declared: "The people of Georgia are unalterably opposed to the continuation of the convict lease system. They wish to get as far away as possible from the system." End the convict lease system, the editorial pleaded.
The legislature adjourned in early August, however, without taking action. The Senate wanted to continue the system for one more year while it investigated further; the Assembly wanted an immediate end. After a three-week hiatus, the public clamor forced the first special session of the Georgia legislature in twenty-five years. A compromise was finally reached on September 19, 1908. Prisoners were to be transferred to the state's counties to work on public roads, and they could only be leased to private contractors if the counties did not have work for them. This did not happen. More than two thousand prisoners were put to work on roads by the counties, and prison leasing was ended forever. Everybody's gloated. "Georgia didn't waste any time finding fault with us for calling attention to the spot on her pretty gown. Georgia cleaned the spot off quicker 'n scat—that's Georgia's. We are proud to have had a little share in the good work."
While Russell was silent publicly about the reaction and never wrote about it, he was not content to stop with his exposé of Georgia's prisons. He used a three-part series of articles in Hampton's magazine, which was then publishing his Trinity church articles, to further examine prisons. Entitled "Beating Men to Make them Good," the articles appeared in September, October and November of 1909 and they did what the narrative Georgia articles didn't—they analyzed and offered opinion. Russell and his research assistant Weir produced a meticulous survey of fourteen American prisons, replete with charts, tables, and statistics. Russell was both gloomy and optimistic. On the gloomy side, he wagged his finger at American communities, "filled with intelligent, extremely self-satisfied, and highly moral people that survey with joy the cleanliness of their town, their noble churches, handsome parks, admirable schools, and their own incomparable virtues as model citizens." And yet, when it comes to their jails, they are "murdering men's souls and bodies, and never once give the matter a thought." Nonetheless, Russell concluded, despite the "hellish horrors" and a "long trail of manifold horrors, cruelties, and barbarisms, burnings, manglings, and beatings," reforms were taking place. He pointed especially to the federal prison at Leavenworth, Kansas, and contrasted it with the "grimy old dungeon," the Columbus (Ohio) Penitentiary. "Not very swift, but still—progress," he wrote. "They are not enough to make us all sing for joy, not because we have actually gained much so far for decency, but because of the shining promise that at some time hereafter we are to be decent." Russell's key point: prison is a place to salvage those who have gone wrong, not to punish or brutalize them for their mistakes. "Good will, decency, and kindness seem much more effective in keeping men in order." Help the convict "straighten his walk," he wrote.
Like most Progressives, Russell believed that environment was primarily responsible for shaping people's character. There were no bad men, only bad conditions that made men go bad. "I have known criminals of every shade, kind and degree," Russell said, "and I have yet to find one in whom there was not plenty of good." Moreover, Russell had the Progressives' faith that institutions could help reshape character. "It is not the character of the convicts that determines; it is the degree of enlightenment possessed by the authorities," he argued. "Men that have wholesome occupation in the fresh air, good food, good treatment, and adequate rest turn naturally not toward evil, but away from it." Russell pointed to young boys from New York City who were in trouble with the law. "How little chance has the tenement-house boy, how little of inspiration and how much of evil are in his environment." What they needed, he argued, "was not punishment but opportunity." Thus, the prison could—and should—be a tool for saving those who had gone astray, a position that was at odds with American prison history. The two major models of prison structure, the Cherry Hill prison in Philadelphia and the Auburn prison in New York, were both founded in 1830 using punishment, isolation, and hard work by prisoners as their tenets. Regeneration might come about for prisoners, but not because they were to be treated with kindness or self-respect or even decency.
Russell used the example of notorious inmate Ira Marlatt to make his point. Imprisoned in the Columbus penitentiary for manslaughter, Marlatt was Ohio's most feared convict, a brute who complained to guards that he was not being paid his fair share for his prison work, a complaint that was apparently true. But the guards nonetheless had Marlatt "paddled" for insolence. "They paddled him until... there was no place left to paddle," Russell wrote. "They had torn the skin from him. Then they hung him up in the bull rings. He fought like a tiger; he could be subdued only by making him unconscious." When the brutal water treatment punishment did not work, the guards beat him until he nearly died. Eventually, Marlatt was put in a special lockup called the "Demon's Cage." He lived there for years, a legend in the Ohio prison system. One day a state senator came to visit, and asked to go into Marlatt's cage. "He'll kill you if you go near him," a guard told the senator. But he insisted and entered the cage. They sat side by side for thirty minutes. When he came out, the senator announced that Marlatt wanted to go back to work in the prison. He became a model prisoner. For Russell, Marlatt typified the "new spirit" that was beginning to enter American prisons. "Ingenious punishments" fail while "fresh air, good food, good treatment, and adequate rest turn [men] naturally not toward evil, but away from it."
Russell had a final point to make, however, one that also fit into his growing belief that above all it was the lust for profit that most effected how America's prisons were run. Punishment of prisoners, Russell found, was used only in prisons where contract labor was in place. In Ohio, for example, one of the worst offending states, private companies ran the prison industry. "Corporal punishment and brutality," Russell pointed out, "are at the worst where the contract system is most absolute." He cited Alabama as a flagrant offender. What was illogical about punishment, he argued, was that discipline could be easily maintained without harsh punishment. Why then the punishment? "To extract from the prisoners the profits of speculators in misfortune," wrote Russell, using italics to emphasize his point: "Greed" of the contractors is the problem, he wrote. "Long ago I suspected this to be the fact; now I am sure of it." Russell ended his prison series by becoming, once again, the grandson of a preacher, standing on his journalistic pulpit, preaching to a national congregation. Somberly he concluded: "The hearts of men are not naturally cruel; cruelty is the offspring of greed, and greed is born of the social system that enables the strong to prey upon the weak and one man to live upon another's toil." But Russell was ready to leap beyond the constraints of Progressivism, which argued continually that the system could be reshaped and reformed. "It is the system, not the individual, that is at fault, and nothing is so pathetically hopeless as the various movements for better government that go fumbling around the edges of the questions. Deal with causes and not results." Russell was primed to take two steps: the first was to reject reform in favor of more radical solutions. And the second was to go beyond journalistic observation and for the first time take direct action as a participant in another social justice cause, the plight of African Americans.
II. THE FOUNDING OF THE NAACP
The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, the oldest and most effective voice of black advocacy in America, got its start indirectly and inauspiciously on the night of June 1, 1908, in Springfield, Illinois. Joe James, a young black drifter from Alabama, arrived by train to this city of 47,000 people, the birthplace of Abraham Lincoln. Springfield was a logical place for the nineteen-year-old to seek a job. It had a modest black population of 2,500 and its coal mines and brickyards offered Jones a reasonable chance of finding work. James got waylaid on his first day in Springfield, however, for he ended up in the Levee, a small neighborhood that housed saloons, gambling dives, and houses of prostitution. Many of the saloons were black owned; with no friends or relatives in Springfield, James ended up in the Levee.
One evening, soon after his arrival, James got arrested, apparently because he beat some locals in a poker game; to get even, they told the police that James was a vagrant. He was arrested and went to the city jail, where he was a model prisoner. In fact, so trusted was James that he was sent from the jail one night in July to pick up food for the guards. He got waylaid again at a saloon. In return for drinks and food, he played the piano, after which he began drinking heavily and gambling. By 11:00 P.M., drunk, he stumbled out of the tavern.
That same night, a sixteen-year-old girl, the daughter of a white engineer, awoke to find a black man lying at the foot of her bed. She screamed, and the intruder fled, but her father, Clergy Ballard, followed him. They grappled in the front yard and the intruder stabbed Ballard several times. No one could identify the assailant, but before he died Ballard told his family that the man was black. Early the next morning, Joe James was spotted by the side of the road several blocks from the Ballard house; he was sound asleep. Ballard's relatives arrived shortly before the police and beat him severely. James was arrested and taken to jail, where he awaited trial for many weeks, even though there was little, if any, evidence to link him to the murder.
A second incident that inflamed Springfield, even if unjustifiably, came in August when Mabel Hallam, the wife of a city streetcar driver, was allegedly sexually assaulted in her home while her husband was working. She said a black man committed the assault while she was preparing to go to bed. Black workmen employed at a nearby house were considered suspects. From a police lineup Mrs. Hallam identified one of them as her attacker. He too was taken to the city jail. News of the arrest was displayed prominently in the city's newspapers, and many of Springfield's residents began to talk of seizing Joe James and George Richardson, who was accused of the Hallam assault.
By early evening of the Friday that Richardson was arrested small crowds of angry whites began to gather in Springfield outside the city jail. Cries of "Lynch the nigger!" and "Break down the jail!" could be heard. But the police chief, fearing mob violence and a lynching, had secretly whisked away the two prisoners outside the city. William Hallam, Mabel's husband, was allowed to search the jail and report to the crowd that it was indeed empty. When the crowd learned that the prisoners were gone, they became angry and began to throw bricks. But police held them at bay and they were forced to direct their growing anger elsewhere.
The crowd moved en masse to a nearby restaurant owned by a white man whose car had been used to take the black suspects out of town. The mob broke the restaurant's windows, chasing the employees, including the owner, into a basement where he was forced to fire warning shots to the menacing crowd. "Curse the day that Lincoln freed the nigger!" shouted one attacker. The restaurant was demolished and the restaurateur's car was set ablaze while the angry crowd danced with glee. Now the mob, which began to take on a life of its own, headed to the black commercial district. Random assaults on innocent blacks started occurring. City authorities had seriously underestimated the seriousness of the situation, and there were not enough police to control the mob's growing hunger for revenge against the city's black population—and against some whites who were considered friendly to blacks. The black business district was gutted. Blocks of black homes were burned. After several hours of looting and burning of businesses, black and white alike, the mob sought out human victims and this led to the most gruesome incident of the evening.
At two in the morning, the rioters reached the house of Scott Burton, a fifty-six-year-old barber who had sent his wife and children out of town while he remained at his house, shotgun in hand. But the mob was more than he could handle; he tried to escape out a side door. The mob caught him, beat him unconscious, and dragged him to a street. They then hanged Burton from a dead tree in front of a saloon. While flames roared in the background, the rioters riddled the corpse with bullets, gashed it with knives, and tore off his clothing. Finally, at 2:30 in the morning, state militia troops arrived and dispersed the crowd, firing warning shots before the crazed rioters began to return to their homes.
But the white Springfield rioters were not finished. They moved next to the house of William Donnegan, eighty, a retired shoemaker with severe rheumatism who owned a home near the governor's mansion and the state arsenal. Donegan met the crowd at his door. They dragged him outside, beat him with bricks, and slit his throat with a razor. The white rioters then hanged him from a tree from a clothesline. When the militia finally arrived to cut him down, it was too late. He died in a hospital the next day.
By Sunday morning the rioting was over. After state police finally imposed an uneasy peace, two innocent black men had been lynched, four white men were dead and scores more were injured. Nearly two thousand blacks had to flee their own hometown. But the nation—or at least the portion of the nation that cared—did not yet know much about Springfield riot. Nevertheless, the riot made clear that racial violence was not limited to the South—it was a national problem. Both the North and the South were infected. It would take a tall radical but courtly Southerner, William English Walling, an old friend of Charles Edward Russell's, to get out the message about the riot's devastating effect—and to make a clarion call for action to prevent more lynchings from taking place.
Russell knew little of the Springfield riots. The year 1908 was a busy one; he was enmeshed in various projects, including his campaign against Trinity Church, as well as the writing of feature profiles on John D. Rockefeller, labor leader Samuel Gompers, and Wisconsin Senator Robert La Follette. But like so many of the muckrakers, he was virtually silent on the question of racial injustice. Privately, however, he made his feelings clear. Quietly he sent a $1,000 contribution to Fisk University in 1904, becoming the first white man to donate to the black university. But in none of his major writings in the national magazines that he wrote for is there any reference to racial conditions. He was publicly indignant about poverty and slum housing; about prison conditions and corporate manipulations of the free marketplace; and about the endless attempts by the business community to buy political influence. But he expressed nary a word on racism. Part of the explanation for that might have been that muckraking or exposé was an uncertain vehicle for dealing with an issue around which there was no popular indignation or even a consensus on how to structure the facts. Exposé usually meant revealing something that was hidden beneath the surface. Racism was out front for all to see. It needed to be explained, analyzed, and publicized, but muckraking journalism, as many commentators have pointed out, was often not very good at providing solutions for the problems it exposed. A second possibility was that for reform journalism to work, it needed active partners in order to mount a crusade. Powerful groups advocating Negro rights did not yet exist. The muckrakers could hardly look to the White House of the conservative William Howard Taft for help. When Russell attacked prison conditions, he consulted various reform groups. And as he exposed Trinity Church, he worked with housing reformers who were desperately trying to get New York City to improve its regulations. Maybe, when it came to race, Russell felt that advocates were more needed than writers. The third possibility—a glum one—is that writing about race was not a popular cause, not a story that would bring readers flocking into the circulation base. As Ray Stannard Baker wrote in 1906: "The people one ordinarily meets don't know anything about the Negro, don't discuss him, and don't care about him." Would they wish to read about their plight?
Some magazines, however, were at the forefront in getting at least some information on race to the public. McClure's, Cosmopolitan, and the American joined older journals like the Independent, the Nation, and Outlook to denounce racial discrimination and violence. Baker, who had differed with Russell over his Trinity Church conclusions, led the way in 1906 with groundbreaking articles in the American magazine about racial conditions. His articles came after a vicious race riot occurred in Atlanta in 1906, one that was remarkably similar to Springfield's. Like most of the magazine editorial writers, Baker argued for enforcement of existing law. He also seemed to embrace a position of benign neglect that many Progressives had taken, similar to Booker T. Washington who stressed that blacks needed to improve their lot through hard work and industrial education. This was much easier said than done: while shiftless and irresponsible blacks were the constant targets of violence, blacks who had prospered and achieved success were equally resented and discriminated against by working-class whites. Whether foundering or succeeding, the black American was often under attack.
Russell summarized where America stood in the wake of the Springfield riots. The South, he said, "was virtually a unit in support of hatred and the ethics of the jungle. The Civil War raged there still, with hardly abated passions." But the North was little better, despite public impression. It was "utterly indifferent where it was not covertly or sneakingly applausive of helotry," he declared. Blacks, Russell pointed out, were disenfranchised by the millions, "denied their constitutional rights, denied the protection of the courts, denied the shield of justice, denied the opportunities of which other men boast, denied the bare right to economic welfare, persecuted, hounded with an inexplicable but insatiable hatred, exposed to the fury of maddened mobs, lynched, [and] burned alive." With "the whole of society... crystallized" against the Negro, Russell knew something had to be done.
Enter Walling, who arrived in Springfield the morning after the eighty-year-old William Donnegan was lynched, as smoke still billowed from burned buildings. Walling was an odd character, even for the Progressive Era, when so many conflicting political winds were blowing in America. His mother's family had been Kentucky slaveholders, but the thirty-one-year-old Walling, a millionaire, was a passionate reformer and a member of the American Socialist Party. He and his wife, Anna Strunsky, had just returned from Russia where he had gone to write about riots in St. Petersburg. While visiting relatives in Chicago, they learned of the Springfield disturbance. He and Strunsky took a night train and reached Lincoln's birthplace Sunday morning. A police force of 3,700 had stopped the violence. "We at once discovered, to our amazement, that Springfield had no shame. She stood for the action of the mob," Walling later wrote. To his shock, Walling found Springfield's residents unabashed. "Why, niggers came to think they were as good as we are!" they repeatedly told him. Little by little, he pieced together the stories of the lynchings and the beatings.
Walling's article, "The Race War in the North," appeared in the weekly Independent magazine, which had been the Negro's steadiest champion among national journals. Walling pointed the finger of blame at the white Springfield residents whose "fanatical, blind and almost insane hatred" had initiated "a permanent warfare with the negro race." If this riot had happened thirty years ago, with the memory of Lincoln still fresh, Walling pointed out, "the whole country would have been aflame," demanding to know why Springfield's people could be allowed to act this way. Walling concluded with a demand for action. "Either the spirit of the abolitionists... must be revived," he said, or the Southern racists will have "transferred the race war to the North." Springfield was a threat to the American democracy, prompting Walling to ask: "who realizes the seriousness of the situation, and what large and powerful body of citizens is ready to come to their aid?" Unfortunately, no body of citizens had yet been mobilized. But Walling, Russell, and a social worker from New York City were soon to change that.
III. "BARE HANDS, BRUISES, DERISION"
Mary White Ovington, a social worker who had studied Manhattan's black community, was stirred by Walling's article. She wrote immediately to Walling, who put her off until the new year, though it was clear that he was interested. They met in New York when he returned. After giving a lecture in Manhattan, Walling and Strunsky spent an evening of intense discussion with Ovington. She learned that Walling and his close friend, Russell, had already spent much time discussing the race question in conversations at New York's Liberal Club. Walling had told Russell that he was considering calling a meeting of interested citizens. Russell poured out to Walling his anger and dismay at racial conditions. Walling took his hand and said, "If you feel like that, and I feel like that, let us see if we cannot find some others, no matter how few, that feel the same way and see if we cannot take a stand somewhere against this monstrous flood of injustice that is sweeping us down hill." Walling convened a meeting in his New York apartment on West Thirtyninth Street during the first week of 1909. Russell could not attend the initial meeting, but he became a regular after that as the group, ranging from four to a dozen people, began to flesh out the problem and a possible solution. "We talked informally about the possibilities of creating some society or organization that might contend against the racial madness that possessed the North only a little less than the South," Russell recalled. "The whole thing seemed comically futile." For his part, Russell was especially angry about the lynching of blacks. The reason was a personal one—Russell's father was nearly lynched by an angry mob in the years before the Civil War when he edited the Davenport Gazette.
As Russell recalled it for the group, Edward Russell was a prominent and indefatigable foe of slavery. Both his family and his mother's, the Rutledges, had secretly helped slaves escape from the South through the Underground Railroad. Edward Russell became known as the "nigger stealer" editor. It was common for the Russell family to have ruffians knock at their door in the wee hours of the morning and yell insults and curses at the father. "These conditions disturbed him not; he knew well enough," Russell said of his father, "that no man with impunity attacks a vested evil." But when "the mobsters began to gather around his house and terrify his family," Edward became concerned for their safety. Friends gave him a cane and a revolver, but he refused to carry them. After a summer of "horrors and sufferings," Edward Russell was forced to move the family to a house on the outskirts of town, more than a mile away from his newspaper office. This quieted things for a while, although once he was shot at while walking home one evening. The family moved again, even though Edward Russell kept up his antislavery editorials in what became known as the "nigger loving Gazette." The son believed that the town's support for slavery was based not on race prejudice, but on fear of losing profits from the bustling river trade from the South.
Russell's mother was sick with worry that terrible harm would come to Edward Russell, and it almost did on a Saturday night, the one night her husband was home with his family, since there was no Sunday newspaper to produce. The family heard noises outside the house as a drunken mob assembled. "My father looked out of a front window and the situation seemed really serious," Charles recalled. One man conspicuously held a rope in hand, as the group stood next to an inviting maple tree. Edward Russell walked out on the roof of the house's porch and with "winged words" began to convince the crowd that a lynching was not deserved. "The crowd listened," the son recalled, and then quietly "slipped away." But Edward Russell, despite his ardent belief in the abolition of slavery, had less to fear than, say, William Donnegan. Russell was a prominent white man. The white mob opted to let him go, but nonetheless they needed someone to oppress, someone to step on. Charles Edward Russell, perhaps naively, never believed that race prejudice was at the heart of America's racial problems. Blacks were not the objects of white venom because of their color, but because of class and caste. "It persists solely—and most significantly—because of the survival of old, fetid, nauseous caveman Snobbery here in free America, democratic America, enlightened America," declared Russell. "It is the survival of the brutish instinct of primitive man that he could not feel comfortable unless he could deem himself better than somebody else; that he could not stand unless he had his foot on some other man's neck." Edward Russell was spared, in part, because the whites still had blacks to subordinate.
Charles Russell's view of interracial relations began to form in his days growing up in Davenport. His father, a strong influence, told the son that it was a "sacred duty" to help the slaves find freedom. Moreover, Edward Russell taught him, it was "utterly preposterous" to believe that one race was superior to another. Yet, as the young Russell learned, that was the accepted creed around Davenport. To the natives of Davenport, the German immigrants were "damn foreigners." When young Charles crossed the river to nearby Moline, Illinois, it was the Swedes who were considered inferior. When Russell went to school in St. Johnsbury, he observed Vermonters sitting around, chewing tobacco and condemning the French Canadians. Later, as a reporter, he took a train ride and saw the "white" folks push the Italians out of seats. "This is a white man's country," one passenger declared. "There ain't no room here for damn dagos." To Russell, this was no different from the way blacks were treated. (Although commonly applied just to Italian immigrants, Russell said that he heard the word "dago" applied to all foreigners.) Russell concluded that all non-natives, not just blacks, were victims of discrimination. "There is no race problem," Russell declared. "The only problem is the problem of snobbery." Despite Russell's belief that class was at the heart of the race problem, he still had to know that conditions for blacks—in terms of income and protection from white violence—were clearly worse than for immigrants. Walling, for example, stressed that blacks in America were treated even worse than Jews in Russia. While Russell was slowly becoming more radical in his economic views, he still clung to Progressive values. His abolitionist heritage called to him to join with others to seek a "shield between the Negro and his oppressor." Despite the overarching problem of class-based social values in America, progress to Russell was still possible without a social upheaval.
What Walling wanted was an organization for the "advancement" of colored people that would take the lead in advocating for equal rights and opportunities for black Americans. Walling and Russell, however, were adamant that the Booker T. Washington approach of appeasement and more job opportunities was not enough. Something more radical was called for, more along the lines of the 1905 Niagara Movement that was led by Dr. W. E. B. Du Bois. Litigation, new laws, mass meetings, annual conventions, publicity—these were the things that an organization comprised of "fair-minded whites and intelligent blacks" must pursue, Russell felt. Walling and Russell needed now to convince people to join. And they did, bringing in what one historian called the "cream of progressive reform"—Lillian Wald, Rabbi Stephen Wise, Reverend John Haynes Holmes, and Oswald Garrison Villard, the editor of the New York Evening Post and the Nation magazine. Villard's grandfather was the famous abolitionist, William Lloyd Garrison. Villard was a key figure, a wealthy, powerful, albeit somewhat conservative voice. Walling enlisted him to write a call to action that was to appear nationwide on February 12, 1909, Lincoln's birthday. Villard wrote of how "disheartened and discouraged" Lincoln would be to see America today, to see the "revolting brutalities" against blacks. "This government," he insisted, indignantly, "cannot exist half slave and half free any better today than it could in 1861." While Villard is given credit for writing the call, Russell likely had a hand in it too. In one speech, Russell used words much like those in the call. "The nation cannot endure half with rights and half with none any more than it could endure half slave and half free." The powerful and impressive call was signed by fifty-three people, both black and white, including Russell and his muckraking colleague Lincoln Steffens. It implored citizens to attend the first National Negro Conference on May 31, 1909. Charles Edward Russell was chosen to chair the meeting.
The choice of Russell was logical. The "chief of the muckrakers" had a reputation as fair and even-handed among both blacks and whites. He was not recognized as too radical, yet his fury and passion for good causes would certainly lend prestige to the conference. The New York and national press would have to take this conference seriously with Russell, among the most famous journalists in America, chairing the event. Plus, he had first-hand knowledge of the conditions of blacks in America. In 1891 the New York Herald had sent him through the South—Virginia, North and South Carolina, and Georgia—to observe social conditions. Then again in 1906 he took another extensive tour of the South, retracing his earlier steps. He knew intimately conditions in Boston, New York, Chicago, and Washington, D.C. But writing stories was easier than chairing a conference with competing factions from different races. The fledgling organization faced many problems: How could it placate the Booker T. Washington forces without letting them derail the new and militant reform effort? "Some of the colored people," Mary Ovington recalled, "evidently were distrustful of us." How could they get blacks and whites to agree to cooperate, without either side seeming to dominate? Explained Walling, "We were determined not to become a little sect but to leave our doors open to all colored people who would stand by their race and to all white people who would take their stand with them." Finally, could they agree on an agenda for change? For Russell, the agenda was simple: America needed an organization that would "stay the overwhelming reactionary flood" and go to battle for "tolerance, opportunity, and equality... an efficient instrument for racial justice."
About three hundred people—including liberal reformers and black activists—gathered in New York City for the first National Negro Conference. The organizers, including Russell, were nervous. They knew that history was about to be made, but they had decided that the fullest discussion possible should take place. That was a risky strategy. Would the forces of Booker T. Washington try to disrupt the meeting? Washington received a late invitation from Villard, but he politely declined. Nonetheless, his emissaries were at the meeting and their interference would not bode well; if this organization got started it would need money from organizations and individuals supporting Washington. "If you wanted to raise money in New York for anything relating to the Negro, you must have Washington's endorsement," Ovington recalled. Nerve-racking also was the mingling of the races at a very public meeting that was being closely watched by the national press. A lunch with blacks and whites seated together was planned on the first day, which was unusual even by the more relaxed standards of New York. As Russell sat on the stage, he looked out over a packed auditorium in the Charity Organization Society in lower Manhattan. Reformers, academics, social workers, journalists—all, as Walling put it, had heeded the call to "enlighten the public opinion of the whole country." The keynote speaker was William Ward, editor of the Independent, which had printed Walling's Springfield riot article. Ward's stirring words called the audience to battle.
What followed was less enthralling, and perhaps even a bit uncomfortable. Russell introduced the morning's speakers who, often in scholarly fashion, laid out scientific data to show that blacks and whites were mentally and biologically equal. In fact, the official theme of the proceeding was the scientific evidence of human equality, much in dispute in 1909. Burt G. Wilder, a professor of neurology at Cornell University, discussed the brain weight of Negroes, all to prove that it was the same as that of whites. Of course, Russell never had any doubt about that. "Men are the same regardless of complexion or shape of nose or curl of hair," Russell believed. "The only real differences among them are differences of opportunity. Theories of the superior and the inferior race are mere fictions, convenient for the purposes of imperialistic exploitation or to excuse savagery, but otherwise footless." But Russell did not express his beliefs; he simply ran the conference.
The morning went well, and the group went off to the interracial lunch at a nearby hotel. The press followed closely, wondering if some spats or awkward moments might emerge. Du Bois noted: "The curiosity of the spectators was toward the darker and less known portion of the audience," but the luncheon was convivial and pleasant. Russell commented, "I never was so interested in meeting people before."
After lunch the meeting moved to the cavernous auditorium of Cooper Union for the Advancement of Science and Art. The afternoon session was highlighted by the speech of the highly regarded scholar Du Bois, who eventually became the most important figure in the NAACP. "Here was a man of manifestly unusual mind and equipment," Russell said of Du Bois. "He astonished and charmed all that heard him." Russell first heard Du Bois speak a year earlier at the Republican Club in Manhattan. Other distinguished speakers came before Du Bois that day, but Russell remembered that no one was as impressive as Du Bois. "In the logical and coherent arrangement of his matter... in research and knowledge, in the polished and carefully chosen cameos of his language, in the polished fluency of his utterance—unequaled." And yet, Russell knew that this man—because he was black—met "unprovoked hostility" wherever he went. He could not join a labor union or a social club, would be refused entry to many churches, most restaurants and hotels, and received the worst accommodations on trains. Only menial jobs would be available to him, despite his brilliance. If he protested his condition, he might be lynched. "If he were lynched, no effort would be made to punish his murderers," Russell knew. Why? "Because of his complexion," which, Russell noted, ironically, was only a few shades darker than his own. Wherever he goes in America, the Negro is "hated and spat upon," Russell said. And that was why the National Negro Conference was so important. Something had to be done.
Nearly fifteen hundred people listened as Du Bois, in essence, refuted the approach of Booker T. Washington, the "Wizard of Tuskegee," who wanted blacks to accumulate wealth patiently as a means of gaining more freedom. Du Bois argued that wealth would follow when blacks had political power. Du Bois's speech may have energized and empowered the black participants at the conference. He later commented that in the afternoon session "the black mass moved forward and stretched out their hands to take charge. It was their problem. They must name the condition." Some of the organizers' fears were realized as tension between blacks and whites mounted. In particular, Ida Wells Barnett, a crusading black journalist who had documented lynching murders in the South, and Monroe Trotter, the editor of the Guardian and a key member of the Niagara Movement, raised strident objections to various proposals. But Russell, Ovington said, "was the personification of courtesy. He let each talk, and yet guided the debate which went on and on."
The evening closed with Walling, whose speech was as stirring as Ward's morning talk. "If justice is to be done to the Negro in this democratic country, it must be done through the enlightened and active interest of some important... elements of the population," he told the crowd. Walling, a Southerner, lambasted the prejudice that typified the South. Although silent on stage, Russell must have been thinking of the times he traveled in the South, observing conditions as a reporter. Once he conversed with three lawyers in Atlanta. "They were talking about the race problem," he recalled. They each had a solution: one wanted to deport blacks back to Africa, although it might be too costly. The other two felt the problem would soon lessen because so many blacks were dying of tuberculosis or alcohol consumption and would soon be extinct. On another occasion he overheard men on a train applauding the fact that black looters had been shot in Galveston, Texas. "It was too good a chance to kill niggers and the boys couldn't let it go by," he heard them say. Russell could only see "a vast white population whose controlling thought at all times is hatred."
The next day, June 1, was the trickiest—and most important—as the group tried to agree on resolutions. What would they stand for? What would their strategy be? And who would steer the new organization; the white liberals, the conservative Washingtonians, or the more radical faction from the Niagara Movement? Some points were easy to settle. Blacks and whites were equal; agreed. As Russell put it, "A Negro... is just like a white man, entitled to exactly the same rights and the same treatment—always, everywhere and under all conditions." Both the North and South were guilty of utter discrimination; agreed. An organization had to be formed to mount a campaign that would insist on laws being enforced; agreed. The end of lynching must be a foremost goal; agreed. The way to achieve some of these goals would be with publicity; agreed. But no agreement was evident on who should serve on the steering committee of forty people. A coalition of blacks and whites would work best, but which ones? The fear was that too many people in favor of Booker T. Washington's ideas would comprise the committee. Mrs. Barnett was fearful that Villard, a Washington supporter, would exercise too much influence. And in fact, behind the scenes Villard was calling the shots. But Mrs. Barnett assured her friends that she had seen the list and that she was indeed on it. As the meeting approached midnight, with all the participants exhausted and edgy, Villard offered various resolutions, which, Du Bois's biographer noted, "were received like live bait tossed to piranhas, mangled, chewed, and regurgitated." J. Milton Waldron, another veteran of the Niagara Movement, urged Russell to force the conference into a third day. "God almighty was a million years in making the world—why not go another day," he said. But Russell refused. He recognized Du Bois who read the names of the so-called Committee of Forty, an interracial group that leaned much more toward Du Bois than Washington, even though Mrs. Barnett and Trotter were left off. Russell was, of course, one of the members. Russell now quickly gaveled the meeting to a close, thinking all had been settled.
But, as Mrs. Barnett recalled, "bedlam broke loose." Mrs. Barnett's supporters, including Russell's newspaper friend John Milholland, were angry. Villard, Walling, Russell, and Du Bois quickly huddled, and Russell called Mrs. Barnett back to meet with them. Du Bois explained that her name had been left off so that others opposed to Washington could be placed on the committee. Mrs. Barnett felt that she was omitted because Mary Ovington, jealous of her, had insisted on it. In her recollection of the events, Ovington conceded only that the "powerful personalities" of Barnett and Trotter might not be "fitted to accept the restraint of organization." Nonetheless, she applauded what she said was Russell's initiative. "Quite illegally," Ovington said, Russell tried to put Barnett back on the committee. She refused, although later she admitted, "I did a foolish thing." Barnett wished she could have joined the fledgling group; it was soon to become the nation's most powerful weapon of black advancement. A new era in black-white relations had begun. Wrote Du Bois: "The problem of the twentieth century was about to be attacked, vigorously and collectively."
The Committee of Forty met off and on in 1910, planning for another national conference. Some things were settled before the second conference: the group would be called the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. A committee of thirty people would act as a board of directors. Russell was on the board. Then, in May, when the committee met for the first time, with Russell chairing again, W. E. B. Du Bois was appointed ostensibly as director of publicity. But in reality he was asked to run the new organization. A man of charisma and vision, Du Bois, whom Russell so admired, would for the next twenty-five years try with "bare hands to lift the earth" and make the NAACP a key force for black emancipation. Russell used remarkably similar words in remembering how it all had begun. "Four or five men and women—what could their bare hands achieve except bruises and derision?" He answered his own question many years after the NAACP had become a powerful force for reform. At a memorial service when Walling died, he recalled "the victims it has snatched from an unmerited gallows, the persecution it had thwarted, the pursuing hatred it had frustrated, the lives it had brightened, the millions of consciences it had awakened to the most glaring of our social transgressions, the slow but steady emancipation of people that had suffered an ineffable wrong, the slow approach toward the reality of equality."
Russell's impatience with those who persisted in opposing improved conditions for black Americans came through in a weekly column he wrote in 1910–11 for The Coming Nation. All victims "look alike to us," he wrote. "If there be among the congregation those to whom race prejudice is an essential of being—well, parting is sweet sorrow." The grandson of the Baptist preacher ended his sermon sarcastically, as he often did, noting: "The organ will now play... [and] those that conscientiously believe in race hatred and cannot live without it will have an opportunity to move towards the door."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
OUT FROM BEHIND THE PEN
I. "AGITATION, PROPAGANDA, EDUCATION"
WHEN CHARLES EDWARD RUSSELL WAS CHOSEN by the Socialist Party in 1910 to run for governor of New York State in what would be his first of four runs for political office, the New York Times accorded him unusual deference. Given that socialism had always been mixed up in the public mind with bomb-throwing anarchists, one would expect the Times, always a voice of the establishment, to largely ignore fringe candidates. As Russell observed about Socialism, "No other movement in our times has been so fiercely denounced." Socialists, he noted, were viewed as "dangerous and detestable wild beasts." And yet the Times treated Russell as one of the three legitimate choices for Governor. The other two candidates were John Alden Dix, the Democrat who was a rough-and-tumble political fighter, and Henry L. Stimson, a Republican and longtime advocate of clean and open government who later became famous as Secretary of State. On three Sundays leading up to the election, the Times devoted full cover-page articles in its fledgling magazine to the three men. Stimson was depicted as a "strong personality," fond of books and the outdoor life. Dix came across as a political insider, with a successful career as the owner of lumber mills in the Adirondack Mountains. And then there was Russell, the magazine writer, whom the Times labeled "an intellectual," a man whose only manual labor "has been done mostly at the typewriter," which was odd, the newspaper said, for someone who ostensibly represented workers. Highlighting the feature profile of Russell was a large sketch showing his chiseled chin and bright eyes. "An old newspaper man, his name is familiar to every reader of magazines," the Times noted.
Although he would not fare so well in terms of news coverage in his three later bids for political office, perhaps it was not surprising that Russell and Socialism were treated so prominently in 1910. This was, after all, the age of "muscularity and vigor" for socialism, its Golden Years—and Russell, one of the most famous writers in America, was at the peak of his productivity and at the height of his muckraking triumphs. His attack on the Georgia prisons had just caused a national furor that led to the scrapping of the state's prisoner lease system. New York's Trinity Church was still reeling from his exposé and was now making startling changes in its tenement operations. Less public was Russell's involvement in the founding of the NAACP, but in progressive and socialist circles it was clear that Russell the magazine writer had come out from behind the pen. He now was engaging in direct action to change social conditions. The line between Russell the muckraking reporter and Russell the socialist advocate became increasingly difficult to separate. Beyond the changes that his writing was promoting was the fact that it was impossible to escape Russell's name—he was everywhere in the national magazines.
Between the time Russell's beef trust articles ended in September 1905 and the New York governor's race took place in November 1910, Russell wrote more than one hundred magazine articles and had three books and two collections of poetry published. He had nine articles in five magazines in the first four months of 1909 alone. And his work often put him in the eye of the storm. The beef trust articles had firmly put Russell on the national stage, but just as they ended he captured the public fancy again with a five-part series of articles in Everybody's magazine, then circulating to 550,000 people. Russell asked a simple question about how the fortunes of some of America's greatest industrialists and financiers were accumulated: "Where did you get it, gentlemen?" His answer: "Their profits were utterly illegal." How could the public applaud these men because of the "piles of dollars" they had gathered? "Have we ever stopped to bother very much about the means [by] which the piles were gathered?" Focusing on New York rail magnate Thomas Fortune Ryan, who consolidated many of New York City's trolley systems, he painted a picture of capitalists who bribed legislators, watered stock, and duped the public to accumulate huge fortunes. And, in the end, the service provided by the trolleys Ryan took over was worse than before. The capitalists that Russell profiled had no redeeming qualities, unlike the John D. Rockefeller whom Ida Tarbell drew, who was ruthless but brilliant. When Russell's articles were turned into a book in 1908, it was titled "Lawless Wealth," an apt description of how he saw fortunes being made in America. Russell knew that his history would cause a controversy. "To question in any way the ability, energy, and foresight of men [who] accumulate great fortunes is fraught with some danger," he wrote. "It is attacking the most sacred doctrine of that commercial religion of which they are the high priests." But Russell did not blame the capitalists, who were not evil men; he blamed the public. If you leave a pile of silver dollars on the doorstep, he said, someone will steal it. His main point: "So long as we give over public utilities to private greed we should expect to have them used for the piling up of great fortunes at our expense." Russell did not say it so clearly in these articles, but his goal was becoming obvious: public ownership of key industries.
As Russell predicted, Lawless Wealth's harsh view of the esteemed capitalists caused a stir. One newspaper praised Russell as the "prince of the muckrakers" but noted how he seemed to find "keenest enjoyment in telling how bad the American richmen are." The Times commented that Russell did muckraking "perhaps better than anybody else. His style is vivid, his explanation of intricate finance clear, his convictions sincere." And yet his "denunciatory sermons" showed no "reserve, moderation, no mixture of motives." His capitalists were "bad through and through," which made this book a "source of error rather than instruction." The Times added, "Mr. Russell may easily enough like muckraking, since it gave him his opportunity, but the taste is fading."3
In fact, the Times was not far off the mark. Most of the muckrakers were backing off their exposé writing. Some of their reforms had come to fruition and the public seemed to be tiring of the onslaught against industrialism's ills. As Lincoln Steffens recalled about 1910, "Most of all I wanted to stop muckraking.... [It] looked useless. Society moved like a glacier; if it progressed it grew like an oak tree—slowly. One might water and manure the soils about it, but it was no use shouting at it." Russell, on the other hand, was shouting louder than he ever had before, plunging deeper into his attack on American capitalism and moving well past the perimeters of progressivism. He was more and more convinced that reform was a futile folly that would do nothing to alter the growing influence of J. P. Morgan and John D. Rockefeller, the corporate behemoths that Russell saw lurking everywhere. "The corner of Wall and Broad Streets," the headquarters of the Standard Oil Co., Russell said, that is "where sit the real rulers of America."
At fifty, Russell was busier than ever, pressing his case as an editor for Benjamin Hampton's radical but still establishment Broadway magazine along with writing a weekly column for The Coming Nation, a new Socialist publication that allowed him more freedom to comment than ever before. His life began to revolve more and more around a swirl of Socialist activities. Morris Hillquit, a key figure in New York in the advocacy and organization of socialism, commented that "the life of the socialist propagandist is the continuous feast of speaking and writing." Running for office "is an almost inescapable part of the work," even though there was little expectation that Socialists, despite the tremendous gains they had made since 1900, stood any chance of winning a major election. It was simply duty—spread the gospel, proselytize, and push capitalism in a constructive direction while waiting and hoping for the promised land—the cooperative commonwealth—to become reality. "Agitation, propaganda, education, literature, campaigns, meetings, a party press"—those would be the tools, Russell declared. As 1910 unfolded, Russell combined preaching, writing, muckraking, and running for political office, roles that were increasingly difficult if not impossible to separate. He did it, however, out of anger at what he continued to see, and out of a continued conviction—much like that of other Progressives—that he really could move the glacier. "Guns roar and armies march and generals maneuver in the center of all men's attention, but the real force that moves the world and is always mightier than all of these is the force of moral conviction," he wrote. Indeed, Russell did not lack conviction as he laid out his criticism of capitalism in magazines, books, and on the stump. The system, he said, simply, is "wrong, rotten, cruel and fatal." And the way to move it, the greatest power, he observed, is "the power of a protest against a fundamental wrong." What, then, according to the man who was alternately called the "chief" or the "prince" of the muckrakers" was fundamentally wrong with America?
II. POVERTY AND PROSTITUTION
"It seems to me now that the abolition of poverty is the only thing at present that is worth thinking about," Russell told a reporter who was writing a long and flattering profile of him in 1908. What angered him especially was the gap between those at the bottom and the top of the economic ladder, a fact that first confronted Russell in the 1890s. Using a storehouse of anecdotes from his reporting days, he emphasized the injustice of this discrepancy repeatedly in speeches and writing. While working as a reporter for the New York Herald in 1892, he told audiences, heating prices inexplicably went up in the city; Russell was sent to Pennsylvania to see if a coal shortage was the cause. It was not; the owners were simply holding back on production while keeping the miners unemployed. He saw shivering and starving coal workers' families, while in the background stood the palatial houses of the well-fed coal barons. "For this condition I could find no defense, excuse, nor even palliation, and I have been able to find none since." Why should 1 percent of the people own 55 percent of the wealth, he asked, a question he repeated to himself after returning from Fall River, Massachusetts, where he covered the Lizzie Borden ax murders that same year. The palaces of the mill owners towered over the shacks of the workers. Why the disparity? "It was impossible to avoid that question; it was thrust too persistently in my face."
How could one explain or justify the contrast, for example, between the fabulous mansions that lined New York City's Fifth Avenue and the grinding poverty on the Lower East Side? Moreover, Russell could find nothing admirable about those who had accumulated great fortunes. Why were the rich held up as models of American greatness? "The life spent in the pursuit of gain is a very pitiable life," he observed. Businessmen "cringe and crawl and wallow and wade through filth, but they get the money. The beautiful dough, the long green, the grand old Mazume, that's the stuff. Get it. No matter how you get it." And when businessmen did accumulate great riches, Russell pointed out, scornfully, they bought yachts, entertain French actresses, and built mansions with gold doorknobs. As "the palaces rise, the steam yachts sail [and] the figures of the great fortunes mount," Russell observed, "in every city the slums spread, the bread lines grow, and the numbers of the poor increase." J. P. Morgan, the archetypal banking mogul, took three Episcopal bishops to Chicago on a trip that cost $30,000. Meanwhile, "Worn-out William," a fictitious urban dweller, lives on the edge. "We give poor old William no chance. For him the Poorhouse or the river," Russell wrote. If the tycoons of American wealth angered Russell, the poor thoroughly depressed him. Take a family he had known since his reporting days, the Bernsteins of Manhattan, who lived in poverty in a disease-plagued tenement. Visit them, he urged his listeners.
Go into some of the courtyards... the filthy and vile overcrowded dwellings, the poisoned air, the moldy dampness of ancient and dark passageways, the reeking halls, the ragged crowds, the toiling men, the tired women, the ill-developed, half-nourished children, the jostling mass on the sidewalks, the forlorn and unkempt appearances of the streets, the painful evidence of a daily and grim struggle, hand to hand eye to eye for bare life and breath....
When one of the Bernstein children died, the father turned to Russell and said, "I did my best." Russell could not hide his anger. "Why, yes, I am bitter. God send me more bitterness... with what voice we have we utter bitter protest and utter it without ceasing," he wrote in his weekly Coming Nation column, a series of strident and sarcastic editorials. As Thanksgiving Day approached, Russell wished that the poor would creep up from the slums to the houses of the rich and peer in their windows. "Why do these creatures come to bother me?" the rich would ask. "Because you and your kind have made us what we are and we want you to see on this day of feasting the results of your work."
Russell's views on poverty made headlines after one speech he gave in Philadelphia. He criticized the clergy who talked too much of the "curse of drink" and not enough about the cause of poverty. "Although I am a total abstainer," he declared, "I would keep drunk all the time were I obliged to live under the same horrible conditions that these people do." Conditions in the world's great cities "make hollow mockery of civilization," he added, while urging reformers to send rum to the poor, not flowers and fruit. When Russell repeated his remarks in a speech in New York City, two Protestant ministers, saying nothing about poverty, told the New York World they were astonished at Russell's comments."
Russell's reply was to point to New York City where he counted 10,000 rich and 32.5 million poor. "Instead of being a country of general prosperity it is evidently a country of general poverty. There is something radically wrong in this situation." Of course, poverty was even worse abroad, he reminded his listeners. Going to Calcutta, Bombay, and London on his trip for Everybody's magazine, Russell encountered misery beyond what he saw in America. "While we feast," he wrote on Christmas Day, "the majority of the men, women and children upon this earth live in conditions unfit for human beings and have probably never once known what it is to have enough to eat." In the rest of the world, four out of five children were born into poverty. "The truth is that the world... is a pleasant or even a tolerable place for only the minority of the persons that live in it. Poverty and insufficiency," Russell concluded, "may be said to be the rule." That finding left Russell admittedly bitter. "A man that could spend somedays in the East End of London and write of it without bitterness has powers of self control I can never hope to emulate," he said. In fact, it was such passion that was making socialism popular. The socialists' anger at poverty and their fervent hope for a better world was finding a receptive audience.
As Russell honed his message for public consumption and readied himself to run for governor in 1910, he used a constant refrain: capitalism and competition were the cause of American poverty and its problems. A bad system, not bad men, drove people to bad things. Again, he used a reporting anecdote to drive home his point. This time it was the Rubensteins, who lived in a two-room flat in Manhattan. The grandfather was a poor tailor who worked in a sweatshop, when he could. The grandson, Julius, was a cripple who sold newspapers while a granddaughter, Bertha, a pretty girl, worked in a department store. Russell kept up with the family through Julius, whom he met each day on his way to cover the courts. When Julius told him how Bertha had gotten a job in an all-night restaurant, Russell was suspicious. One night, coming from the theater, he spotted a group of women skulking on a side street. They were prostitutes, and Bertha was among them. When the grandfather learned of Bertha's fate, he committed suicide. Bertha never returned home. "A man need not be a puritan nor of any nice scruples about the recognized facts of life to be struck here into dumb disgust of the whole business," Russell wrote. "There are other causes for prostitution than the one great economic cause," he admitted, "but the economic cause is greater than all other causes together."
For poor women, the choice was to sell their bodies or starve. But even the wealthy were forced by the system into selling women, Russell asserted. Just look at the American mania among the wealthy class to sell off their daughters in marriage to blue-blooded European aristocrats. In three articles for Redbook, he named Anna Gould, Gladys Vanderbilt, and forty-three others, information that "no man has had the courage to expose," the magazine asserted. He exposed a European company that was finding aristocrats for American women, a service that led to police scrutiny and arrests. The magazine ran a photograph of Russell and called him "the greatest investigator of his day," even though his articles seemed as much tongue-in-cheek as serious. Fictional dialogue and scenes were as prominent as facts, but nonetheless, his point was clear: the rich, trying to mimic the class system of old Europe, would prostitute their daughters just to get a title. "Lost women's souls and ruined lives are the product of this system," he believed. "It is not wise to buy and sell women."
III. A GLASS BOTH EMPTY AND FULL
The issue of altering the balance of economic power between rich and poor was at the heart of both progressive and socialist causes in the years after the turn of the twentieth century. Progressives wanted to bring change by making the corporations and the wealthy industrialists susceptible to the control of the large majority of the people with taxes, regulations, and more opportunity. The socialists wanted to get at the root cause—competition and profit—and allow the people to own key industries. Underlying the belief system of Russell and the Socialists were two assumptions. First, capitalism was illogical, brutal, and destined to die. Russell called it "purely arbitrary, irrational, and unjust... a false system of society that makes enemies of men that otherwise would be friends." Not only was poverty "absolutely wrong" but it was also "utterly unnecessary." Naively, Russell and his comrades argued, just get rid of capitalism and poverty would disappear. How to accomplish this—and what tactics to use—was a cause of disagreement among the socialists, however. The evolutionists, including Russell, believed that socialism would come gradually, evolving from capitalism, just as capitalism had evolved from feudalism. Russell repeated this consistently in speeches and writing, rebuking at the same time those who believed in revolution or violence to bring about the cooperative commonwealth. "Socialism is opposed to all violence, force and coercion and seeks its aims only through appeals to the reason," Russell explained. Success at the ballot box, however remote, was the means to a Socialist state for Russell's faction of the party. "The kind of revolution that socialists think of would never disturb our grandmothers," he noted. The second assumption was about the nature of mankind. Socialists felt that people shared a common fund of humanity and interdependence; the world was not a Darwinian jungle where beasts competed. It was the competitive nature of capitalism that turned people into animals. Without capitalism, people would be good, rational, and willing to sacrifice for common goals. To argue that without the possibility of personal gain and the pursuit of wealth there would be no incentive to work or achieve was "to take the lowest possible view of man, and to deny all that is good in him," Russell believed. "The greatest joy that life affords is something done for somebody else. The man that lives for himself dies within himself."
Undoubtedly Russell was an optimist—as were most progressives and socialists. But whether he really believed that socialism would cure the world's ills is difficult to determine. Indeed he was gloomy about the state of America in 1910, a pessimism that would deepen over the next five years. He was absolutely unequivocal that reform would not help matters (even though his journalism was helping the reformers) and he was adamant that electoral change was unlikely to succeed because the political system was in the grip of corrupt ruling forces. All of which begs the question as to why he would even bother to run for office. The answer is that he constantly saw the glass as half empty and half full—at the same time. He trusted the people explicitly. "All they need is the facts," he observed, exactly what many of the muckraking journalists said. They can be "fooled, betrayed, bamboozled... but the heart of the people is true." Moreover, he said, "the time is coming when the people will get up and kick the system into the street...." The problem, if Russell's muckraking political reporting in the years leading up the governor's race was to be believed, was that the electoral system was so manipulated the people were powerless to make changes.
Russell believed there was little difference between the Republican and Democratic parties, that in fact they were one party controlled by the corporate interests. In reality, he said, it was the capitalist parties versus the socialist party. But "before we can have Socialism we must introduce the machinery of a genuine democracy," Russell explained, not an easy task as he tried to show with his reporting. Russell saw politics influenced in two ways—with direct and outright fraud at the polls and with corporate bribery and payoffs to legislators. He dug into his reporter's bag of tricks to prove it, writing two multipart series of articles for Hearst's Cosmopolitan. The articles display Russell at a logical point in his development as a journalist and ideologue. He was, as the Times called him, "the magazine writer," but clearly he was and wanted to be more. He wanted out from behind the pen—but the pen nonetheless was the way he reached his audience and would likely still have his greatest effect. His journalism, even after his declaration for socialism, showed him to be a careful muckraker on one hand and an ideologue-socialist on the other. Russell used the results of the 1905 mayoral campaign in New York City to show how the entrenched political parties kept power. Hearst lost this election by a scant number of votes in a contest that historians agree was stolen by ballot-box fraud. Russell, who had covered or coordinated election coverage in New York City for thirteen years, had spent Election Day at the polls witnessing "a vast, organized, articulate and profitable industry" of fraud. He used an anonymous source—a reformer from the West Side of Manhattan—to tell an insider's tale of how elections were manipulated. His tale began at 5:00 A.M. at a flophouse for vagrants in Manhattan where two-hundred men were rousted out of bed, given breakfast, and then brought to various polling places to vote under someone else's name for the machine's candidate, after which they were paid. At one location Russell saw 100 fraudulent votes cast out of a total of 380. "The respectable, intelligent, patriotic, right-minded citizen... has no knowledge of the stupendous size of this evil," he commented. The reformers, of course, did know—for example, how $25 was paid for someone to vote more than once—but when they complained or intervened, they ended up in the hospital, bloodied by the machine's goons. "And no one has ever been punished for any of these crimes, " he reported. "One can order any reasonable number of fraudulent votes with as much certainty as one would order oysters."
When importing and paying voters to commit fraud was not enough, then a second method came into play. Tally sheets used to tote up the final vote were smeared, defaced, mutilated, blotted, or written over with acid and ink to distort results. Russell's detailed and meticulous reporting, impressive even by modern standards of investigative reporting, paints a convincing picture of fraud, which he said could be found in cities from Philadelphia to Denver to Portland. Russell could have called his four-part series of articles the "shame of the ballot box." It revealed a corrupt system that matched the one Lincoln Steffens had found five years earlier. But while Steffens often said he was not sure of what he had found in his look at American cities, Russell was quite clear. "Here is revealed one of the means by which the corporations elect their puppets, secure their franchises, obtain the laws they want, control legislative bodies [and] forestall investigation." How can Americans preach for fifty-one weeks about "the beauty of public purity, the duties of citizenship, and the grandeur of civic honesty," while on the fifty-second week the "very breath of republican government" is choked by a "gangs of thugs"? Russell's look at election fraud struck a responsive chord in the New York State Legislature, which began an investigation. A year after his articles, the legislature toughened its election fraud laws, giving it one of the better systems in the nation. Russell took the same tact as Steffens who, when he finished his "shame of the cities" in 1902, went on to investigate the states. But Russell's six-part "What Are You Going to do About it?" articles, also in Hearst's Cosmopolitan, are less impressive. Written in 1910, the articles, although carefully documented, deal mostly with graft and corruption in five state legislatures a decade earlier. Moreover, they are much longer on rhetoric than on fact. His point, repeated often, is that bad men are not the problem. "The real culprit," he writes, "is the System that makes grafting inevitable... no matter how many men we put into jail nor how many families we break up, so long as we have the System, we shall have its results."
IV. RUNNING FOR GOVERNOR
The "system" took center stage in the race for governor of New York, at least as far as Russell was concerned. The Socialists got a jump on the other parties by nominating Russell in June 1910, well before either Republican Stimson or Democrat Dix. Russell laughingly called the nomination "an act of derangement" by the party. But he was deadly serious about the issues: poverty, slum housing, the increased cost of living, the failure of regulation, corruption in government—and the concentration of power and wealth that "is as much a menace to free government as imperial authority might be in another country." The cure for it all, he declared, was Socialism, "the next advance for democracy." Be assured, he said, "it is no dreamy Utopia." Winning the election might be a dream, but at least at the outset of the campaign it appeared the socialists were gaining strength.
Russell opened his campaign at a picnic in Astoria, Queens, in late August. More than two thousand people cheered as he made his entrance and a procession headed by a brass band accompanied him to a lectern. Russell said he appreciated the cheering, but he understood that the cheers were for socialism and not for him. The cheers died down quickly, however, as Russell spent the next eleven weeks campaigning throughout New York State often at places where virtually no one showed up, and when they did seemed not to care at all about what he said. "Few things in nature can be more comical than the spectacle of an elderly person scrambling madly from town to town and city to city, trying to tell people something they do not wish to hear," Russell recalled in his autobiography. In White Plains, New York, one night he addressed eleven people; in Rome, someone opened a switch on a railroad steam pipe so nothing he said could be heard. It could have been worse. One Socialist candidate was thrown into the Erie Canal after a speech. In Wellsville he spoke at a firehouse, but the townspeople all stood in the back, with no interest and no applause. The town gave him seventy-eight votes. In Bolivar his train arrived so late that he missed his engagement, found all the hotels closed, and a policeman had to sneak him into a room. One hotel in Rattlersville was so bad that Russell slept in his clothes with his head near the window to ease the smell. Was this the road to the Cooperative Commonwealth? If so, it was to be a bumpy road. Meanwhile, the other candidates said little about concentrations of wealth or threats to democracy, but they also said little about issues relating directly to New York State. Because of his background as a lumber mill and bank executive, the Democrat Dix stressed that if elected he would bring efficiency to state government. He favored popular election of U.S. Senators, direct primaries, and a federal income tax. He saved his choicest words for Theodore Roosevelt, the former president angling to run again in 1912, who had hand-picked Henry Stimson as the Republican candidate. Dix denounced Roosevelt as a "public enemy" and "an agent of destruction." Russell was no kinder, calling TR that "wild-eyed person" and "skillful demagogue." The fastidious Stimson, a graduate of Yale and Harvard and a former U.S. attorney, was caught in a crossfire between President William Howard Taft and Roosevelt, Taft's predecessor who was mounting his comeback. Moreover, Stimson was unsuited for the mudslinging often associated with a New York campaign. The press tagged him with the nickname "the human icicle."
The campaign heated up in early October when Russell addressed a crowd of ten thousand in Union Square in Manhattan. They had come to hear the Socialist gubernatorial candidates from New Jersey, Connecticut, and New York. Russell assailed both parties. The Republicans have "Boss Roosevelt," he said to laughter. "He opposes all bosses except himself." As for the Democrats, they answer every question with: "Ask Murphy." Charles F. Murphy was the Democratic chief of Tammany Hall. "If you asked them what the weather was they replied, 'Ask Murphy.'" He then turned to the issue of poverty, noting, "Life grows harder and harder for the average man." Three days later he received a long ovation from one thousand people in Lower Manhattan where he was well known and where the Socialists had their greatest strength. "In both parties, the workingman has no friend, no representative," he declared. Only Socialism could help. "It proposes to abolish the system under which a few men can control everything." In Brooklyn another friendly crowd cheered Russell as he made fun of Woodrow Wilson, "the new Messiah from New Jersey," and "Dr. Roosevelt," whose remedy was "down with the boss." Never mind, Russell said, "whether you can pay your grocery bills." Neither party could stop the trusts from overwhelming the people's interests. "The real remedy," he said, "is to let the nation own the trusts." Russell seemed to strike responsive chords with his audiences. After one speech, The Call, the Socialist daily newspaper, commented: "Russell was at his best. He spoke with a conviction and enthusiasm which sent a thrill through his audience." When he was finished one speech the crowd rushed to the platform to thank Russell for his "eloquent indictment" of the present system.24 On October 15, the campaign's highlight came when Russell addressed a packed audience at New York 's Carnegie Hall. He gave an hour-long speech filled with sarcasm and repetition. After asking why he was a Socialist, he cited the troubling statistics on poverty, wages, and the trusts, ending each segment by telling the audience, "There is your answer." After attacking the Rockefeller-Morgan group, he thundered, "Let the nation own the trusts," adding, "our aim is not for today but for all the future." A moment of tension interrupted his speech when a woman stood up and demanded that Russell address the question of woman's suffrage. "Silence!" someone yelled. "Put her out," said another. But Russell waved the crowd to let her speak, and then replied, "I am for it. I believe in it without reservation." And he described what he had seen in New Zealand where women voted. The audience applauded. He concluded with the same refrain he had used when he had been criticized about his Trinity Church articles: How could anyone stand idly by in a "world filled with unnecessary horrors and never make a protest"?
By November 1 Russell was feeling confident, writing, "We have a better opportunity than I had supposed." But he reminded his audience that electoral victory was not the real goal of the Socialists. "We are not seeking political power," he wrote in The Call. "We measure our advance by the spread of ideas." Much like many of the other positions advanced by Russell, his stance on winning elections was embraced in almost lockstep fashion by members of the party. In fact, historian Daniel Bell points out that one of the flaws in the Socialist movement was its rather rigid adherence to a set of set party principles. While Russell did emphasize some positions and issues over others, he sounded remarkably like other Socialists in expressing the party line.
Perhaps the best measure of what Russell believed as the 1910 campaign drew to a close was his interview with the Times in which he was asked what he would do if elected. Of course, he said immediately, he would need a Socialist legislature to get his way, but if he had one, he laid out a vision that by today's standard does not seem very radical. First, he said he would institute recall and referendum, which would allow the people not to have to wait until Election Day to get rid of elected officials and policies they did not like. "In the long run, the people are always right," he said. Russell wanted "home rule," so that, for example, no legislator from upstate New York would tell New York City how to govern itself. "What human being is fit to decide an environment he does not know"? he asked. Dix also advocated home rule.
Russell sought an eight-hour work day, overtime pay for any work beyond the normal work week, equal pay for men and women, limited overtime for women, a ban on children under sixteen years old in the work force, workers' compensation for injury, government-funded pensions for old persons, breakfast and lunch programs for school children, and a more rigorous civil service system. Except for limits on women's overtime, all those proposals are in place today. More controversial, however, was his desire to give free land upstate to people living in crowded urban areas; for municipalities to assume control of electric, water, telephone, and gas utilities; and for the state to take over certain natural resources, including oil, timber, and water power. Russell conceded to the Times that his proposals were not likely to lead to victory in November, but "we can march up and drop the ballots that register our protests, and sooner than people think there will be a Socialist government at Albany."
In the last week before Election Day, Russell visited Auburn, Syracuse, Rochester, Buffalo and Schenectady, a Socialist stronghold where an overflow crowd heard Russell lash out at his opponents. Stimson and Dix were both selected "for the one purpose of permitting the capitalist class to go on fleecing and exploiting," he said, as applause erupted. On the eve of the election, back in New York City, he gave an impassioned speech, repeating his story of the coal workers in Pennsylvania, finishing with a tearjerker ending about a miner whose teenage son died in an accident in the mines. "Russell, it's better this way," the father said, holding the limp body of his son in his arms. "And it was better that way," Russell told the audience. "But what shall we say of a civilization in which it is better for a child to die than to live?"28
Election Day came. The socialists made great gains, sending the first Socialist ever to the U.S. Congress and winning the municipal elections in Milwaukee. German immigrants on the Lower East Side of Manhattan shouted, "Endlich! Endlich!" ("At last! At last!") But, alas, Russell garnered only 4.4 percent of the votes in New York. Dix won with 689,700 votes to Stimson's 622,229. Russell later recalled that on the eve of the election "the sidewalks were jammed with shouting people, the windows were full of smiling faces, old men and women wept and cried" in support of Socialism. "But when Election Day came around we did nothing of the kind. We had the cheering and the old parties had the votes." Russell was not in the least disturbed by his defeat, however. He received a letter from his friend and Socialist colleague, Algernon Lee, who congratulated Russell on his showing. It brought tears to Russell's eyes. He replied, telling Lee about "the wonderful way that life has changed for me since I came into the Socialist Party." He added: "I don't quite understand it myself... nothing seems to annoy me very much now and I feel a kind of pleasure in living that I never felt before. It seems strange to me that what purports to be an economic philosophy should be a great moral force but I am sure I am a better man since I came into the Socialist Party. If I live long enough, I may be of use someday, but not yet." Eagerly, Russell returned to his muckraking and, eventually, three more runs for political office.
CHAPTER TWELVE
GRAPPLING WITH THE OCTOPUS
I. MUCKRAKING IS DERAILED
WHILE HIS FIRST CAMPAIGN FOR GOVERNOR OF NEW YORK was underway in 1910, Charles Edward Russell began another multipart series of articles that would cause a reaction unlike one that he—or any other muckraker—had ever gotten. This time he turned to the topic of railroads, which first caught his attention during his 1904 investigation of the "beef trust." Russell had an obsession with the railroads, as did the rest of America. He wrote two books and dozens of magazine articles about them. More than likely the obsession stemmed from Russell's belief that his father's newspaper had been killed by the railroads many years before, much the same way the Rockefeller cabal had put Ida Tarbell's father out of the oil business.
Such an explanation is too simplistic, however. Russell understood the actual and symbolic importance of the rails, just as he knew that Trinity Church was both a bad neighbor and a capitalist icon. As a reporter he had closely watched various groups grapple with "the octopus." Populists and farmers throughout the Gilded Age, angered by being at the mercy of the railroad companies, had sought a combination of tougher regulations and government ownership. The Interstate Commerce Commission was largely created to meet their demands. Yet the railroads controlled everything from the legislature to the press and represented a central element in the political, economic, and social development of the United States. But they represented much more than simply an engine of growth. As the railroads pushed westward and facilitated population expansion, they changed America. In the process, the men who built America's 250,000 miles of track from 1870 to 1900 became legendary heroes and epic villains, representing both the American Dream and nightmare. The robber barons and the "octopus" they controlled were made-to-order topics for the muckrakers who had been pounding away at various sources of concentrated power since the turn of the century.
Benjamin Flower's Arena magazine began the scrutiny in 1904 by tracing "Twenty Five Years of Bribery and Corrupt Practices" by the railroads. A detailed look at high accident rates followed in Leslie's. And then Ray Stannard Baker put the railroads on trial in his famous muckraking articles in McClure's in 1905. The result, at least in part, was a public outcry and federal regulations in 1906 that revitalized the thirty-five-year-old Interstate Commerce Commission, but also put the brakes on demands for more drastic remedies. After his tour of the world in 1907, Russell returned to America convinced more than ever that government oversight of the rails was not enough. Blaming the poor condition of the American railroad system on "the dizzy financial juggleries of the Kings of Finance," and the "gentlemanly thieves of Wall Street," Russell sought to set the record straight in a 1910 series of articles in Hampton's. He wanted a history that would show, first, how consumers paid the price for a legacy of fraud by America's railroad tycoons and, second, what should be done about it.
A handful of men built the rails in America. The best known were Jay Gould, William H. Vanderbilt, E. H. Harriman, Collis P. Huntington, and James J. Hill, all of whom were revered as examples of the great industriousness that typified America's best men, "the gifted generals of the commercial battlefield," Russell called them. "According to the entertained theory," Russell said, these men "have developed the railroads, built the factories, established the commerce, created the industries of the land." And the entire world looked up to them, which galled Russell who believed they were what today would be called white-collar criminals. If "thoughtful men" looked at how railroad fortunes were made in America, they would have to conclude that "the whole American railroad business was rotten with fraud and lying," Russell argued. So, Russell dipped back more than twenty years to trace how the railroad moguls built their lines—and made their fortunes. Anticipating criticism, Russell asked: "Why recite these things now? The Past is the past: let it be." His answer: "I recite them because they have direct and absolute bearing upon the greatest public question that this generation will have to deal with." The railroads are "a power superior to the government, they levy and collect from every community whatever toll they please and every attempt to restrain them or control them ends in the same ridiculous failure."
Take for example, the Canadian-born James J. Hill, the first railroad tycoon profiled by Russell. Not a surprising choice, since the financial shenanigans of Hill, Harriman, and J. P. Morgan had precipitated a stock market panic in 1901 and led to a U.S. Supreme Court decision that shot down a merger of their rail lines into the Northern Securities Company. While the merger made Hill infamous and led to Theodore Roosevelt's ballyhooed decision to bust this "trust," it was Hill's rail construction exploits that had made him legendary.
In what was probably the greatest feat in railroad building in the United States, Hill pushed his St. Paul and Pacific Railroad from Minnesota through the Rockies, despite the appalling difficulties of the terrain. By 1893 the line reached Seattle. Hill was "the most admired of our railroad kings," Russell pointed out, often held up as "the perfect model for our aspiring youth." He had industry, zeal, ability and integrity... or so it seemed. But such conclusions were reached, Russell noted, before "those vile creatures, the muck-rakers, had begun to cast their baleful shadows upon our fair land." To get the true story, Russell ventured to Minneapolis, where his sister had since moved from Davenport, Iowa, and he dug into documents in the federal courthouse. What he found was a lawsuit brought by one of Hill's early partners, who told of a secret arrangement in the 1870s to water the stock of Hill's fledgling company. In court testimony the partner said had he told Hill, "We will have to keep this thing to ourselves." Hill replied, "Certainly it won't do to let anybody know anything about it." What the partners did, according to the testimony, was to overcapitalize the stock of the company, thus allowing the partners to invest little and then reap large profits—if the company succeeded, which it did, as Hill pushed its expansion and oversaw its great growth. The partner sued because he was cut out of the eventual profits, an allegation the court did not believe since, it concluded, the alleged oral agreement was too disputed to be trustworthy. For Russell the real point was that fraudulent methods began the Hill empire and led to "colossal profits" from little or no investment. In thirty years, he asserted, Hill and partners made $407 million profit! "Never before have there been such marvelous results from a beginning so inconsiderable," he wrote.
Russell's readers had to wait until the next month's installment to find out more about Hill's dark deeds, about how when he pushed his rail line through the Rockies he promised the people of Spokane, Washington, in his "large warm patriarchal manner," that rail rates would be kept low if they helped him. "The heart of Spokane leaped with joy," and Hill was given a right of way for a mere $70,000. At last he reached the Pacific, but then, according to Russell's account, Hill "had lapsus memoriae in its worst form." As to everything connected with his promises to Spokane his mind went blank, "a malady that "did not effect his ability to keep things; only his power to remember things." His shipping rates amounted to extortion. To prove this Russell used complicated and virtually unreadable charts showing comparative rates. He reached three conclusions from the story of James J. Hill: first, the consumer invariably foots the bill for steep shipping costs in higher coal, food, and clothing prices. Second, the railroads "have the power" and can "levy and collect from every community whatever toll they please." And, third, no government is strong enough to stop them. These were sweeping conclusions from one look at the "money mill" of James J. Hill, but were they an accurate portrait or was Russell the Socialist bound and determined to use Hill's story for propaganda?
Russell found nothing redeeming about Hill. Unlike Tarbell, who understood Rockefeller's genius and Standard Oil's corporate efficiency, Russell could see nothing but an evil system that had corrupted all men. Even Lincoln Steffens had found many of the corrupt bosses of American cities to be likable characters, but Russell would not be charmed by Hill. Was the lure of great profit the beneficent influence that drove Hill to push his rail lines to the Pacific? Russell could not even consider the possibility; it would debunk his belief that men were driven by the common good, not by private accumulation of wealth.
And so it went in the rest of his articles as Russell insisted to Hampton's 425,000 readers that the railroads existed for no other reason but "to issue, to manipulate, and to possess railroad securities." In other words, the rails in private hands were solely a moneymaking tool and not an instrument of public service. Collis P. Huntington, Russell's other major focus, was much like Hill. The California storekeeper joined with Leland Stanford and two others to create a railroad company that had practical control of the West. Although his construction of a Pacific rail line was a magnificent physical victory, Russell depicted it as "a monstrous triumph of greed, fraud, and corruption." Moreover, the Southern Pacific displayed the evil influence of the rails over government. The company was a "truly imperial power that had seized the State of California," Russell charged. Huntington's "great political machine was much more efficient than Tammany's or any other machine that ever existed," and the people had no chance against its "colossal" might. Russell warned in his March article that this "steadily growing evil" was "more menacing than any problem any nation has ever dealt with." This was surely an exaggeration, but his words stung Huntington. Before his next article on Huntington appeared Russell received a telephone call from someone with "intimate" knowledge of its contents. The caller tried to refute some of the facts, urging Russell not to print his article, but he refused. In June, Russell reported that a federal judgeship was promised to a Huntington friend because of the rail magnate's campaign contributions. The allegation was based on a source that allegedly overheard a conversation between Huntington, who had died in 1900, and the president, who, oddly, was not named. Russell's article, heavily documented and filled with charts and long quotations from various correspondence, made it almost unreadable, but nonetheless it was a damning portrait of money influencing politics at all levels of government. Of course, such revelations and charges were nothing new for the muckrakers to make—or for the American public to hear.
Russell drew the ire of the rail companies once again in November 1910. Two weeks before publication of an article on William H. Vanderbilt's rail lines, a man who said he represented the New York Central Railroad called Russell, saying he knew the contents of the upcoming story. If the article was not suppressed, the rail line would withdraw advertising from the magazine, a common threat during the muckraking era. Undaunted, Hampton published the article in which Russell painted a dramatic a portrait of "Death Avenue," a rail crossing in crowded Manhattan where four hundred had been killed and hundreds maimed over the years because there were no crossing gates. Rail owner Vanderbilt was supposed to elevate the tracks but had not done so, which had long been a scandal in New York City. Russell was certainly not exposing a new problem, but his words were harsh and pointed as he told the story of Seth Low Hampton, the one hundred and sixtieth child to be killed at the crossing. His five hundred schoolmates wept as they marched behind his coffin. Men cursed, teachers cried. They knew, Russell wrote, that little Seth was a "needless sacrifice to the system that makes of public highways a private gift." If the Lows had been rich they could have met "bribery with bribery, lobby with lobby, influence with influence, wrong with wrong." But since they were poor, "they must submit to this monstrous perversion of justice and lawmaking." The Seth Low anecdote, which Hearst would have so loved, was placed deep in the article, however, and the "Death Avenue" story was not told as effectively as either Russell's Trinity or prison exposes. Nonetheless, when the articles appeared, the railroad followed through with its threat: it withdrew advertising from Hampton's next edition—not the first time a muckraker's taunts had irked a businessman.
Even though, as Russell told the story, threats continued to the magazine, Russell and Hampton kept publishing the "stories of the great railroads." The series neared completion in October when a man who said he represented Charles S. Mellen, the president of the New York, New Haven, and Hartford Rail Company, came to Hampton's office to say the article, still in page proofs, was "full of lies." He identified four facts he said were false, but Hampton felt they were accurate. If the article was printed, the visitor threatened that the financial powers backing the New Haven railroad would ruin the magazine and Hampton. The threat notwithstanding, "The Surrender of New England" was published in November, a fitting ending to Russell's series as he used examples—again, many years old—to repeat his themes: that the Mellen rail companies cared only about watering stock and making profits; that they gobbled up all competition by quietly buying the stock of small owners; and that Mellen used his political influence to block anyone who stood in his way. When one Massachusetts businessman successfully led a fight to block Mellen's consolidation efforts, his credit at the banks was discontinued. Russell warned: "This shows what this Power really is—how tremendous, how many sided, how long armed." He asked: "Who are the real rulers of America? How long can we continue this process of piling up capitalization and increasing the cost of living?"
With the articles completed, Russell and Hampton awaited reaction. It came swiftly. In late December Hampton wrote to Russell, apologizing for not paying him but explaining that he was having trouble getting loans from New York banks. A bank vice president had told Hampton that a loan was a "certain" proposition. But after ten days the vice president reported he would have to take the loan deal to the bank's president. "He seemed to think it was all right until he learned the name of the magazine. Then he declined to discuss it any further," wrote Hampton, who said he had visited twenty one banks; all of which refused to loan money. Hampton added that a friend who worked in banking "advises me that, in his judgment, it will be practically impossible for us to borrow any money at New York banks. Our proposition is all right, he says; bankers have to acknowledge that it is, but they do not like the magazine. All of which I am sure will interest you." Later Russell learned that the company's financial ledgers had been stolen by a newly hired accountant. Soon after, many of the company's stockholders in New York City were visited and told that Hampton was misusing company money and that he had bought an estate in the Adirondack Mountains and a Fifth Avenue mansion. The charges were ridiculous, Hampton insisted. "Mrs. Hampton and I were having a time to buy clothing for the children," he later recalled. "We were near the line of desperation." But the Hampton's stockholders were stunned by the allegations; Hampton was unable to raise needed cash to pay expenses. For Russell it was déjà vu. Just as the rails had knifed his father, now, he wrote, "Mr. Hampton was ruined according to prediction and his magazine was swept out of his hands." Despite a large circulation and a brisk advertising business, "not a bank in New York would advance it one dollar," noted Russell. By the summer of 1911, the octopus had strangled its enemy. "The run that had been foretold to Mr. Hampton was come upon him," Russell concluded. Facing receivership, Hampton relinquished his magazine to a group of promoters who he later alleged looted the magazine, destroyed its financial records, and wrecked one of the few remaining muckraking magazines in the country. Concluded Russell: "Nothing is clearer than that the masters mean to absorb the monthlies and weeklies of liberal tendencies."
Russell fully accepted the theory that a conspiracy existed to put the muckraking magazines out of business. "Several chuckling gentlemen" had met in New York City and decided to halt the exposing of the facts, he wrote four years after Hampton's went under. "The Interests set out resolutely... to bring in the fiery untamed muckraking magazine and tether it in the corporation corral." The special interests, according to this view, then canceled advertising, bought certain magazines outright or forced banks to call in mortgages and loans, as with Hampton's. "There must be less muckraking, greater amiability toward business," one banker declared. The overall results were spectacular: between 1905 and 1911, Era, Ridgway, and Human Life went out of business. Between 1911 and 1916 Hampton's, Success, Twentieth Century, and Harper's Weekly failed. By 1912 conservative business interests had taken control of McClure's, the American, and Collier's.
But the question remains: Did the "Morgan interests" really conspire to silence Russell and the muckrakers? The answer is yes and no. The powerful banker J. P Morgan did not convene a meeting to plot strategy. Little by little, however, the combined efforts of businessmen began to stifle muckraking and reform. But other factors also influenced the direction of the magazines' editorial content. Many of the changes the writers sought—food and drug controls, banking reform, an enlarged central government to tackle the excesses of industrialism—had come about. Eventually the public tired of exposé journalism and as circulation of the magazines began to drop, editors sought new approaches. Russell was the only writer of expose who kept pounding away consistently, but at times his style, replete with long quotations from documents and complex charts, may have turned off audiences. Moreover, his socialist ideology might have tainted his reliability. In the end many social factors combined to slow down and eventually stop the muckraking movement. But in the case of Hampton's, the last of the attacking magazines, the rail interests clearly struck a direct blow at an opponent who was not only making damning allegations but who was proposing a remedy that threatened the rails' very existence as private companies. Russell declared at the end of one article: "The highways are the people's. Let us return them to the people from whom they have been taken chiefly by chicanery, bribery, and fraud." Russell did not want to regulate the rails; he wanted to take them away from their owners. He was the enemy at a time when the enemy was making gains. For Russell, the attack on and demise of Hampton's was proof that the "people" were in a war with the "interests." And while most of the muckrakers turned to other pursuits, Russell kept fighting the war, becoming, in fact, more obsessed—almost paranoid—about the dangerous might of the capitalists.
II. QUARRELING COMRADES
If the muckraking magazines were being swallowed up by Wall Street, as Russell and others were convinced, only one choice remained for him and the socialists if they were to continue to educate the public: start independent publications free of advertising dollars and corporate ownership. If anyone had expertise on publishing to offer the Socialist Party it was Russell, who had edited some America's greatest newspapers. The Socialists' most widely read publication was the highly political Appeal to Reason, run out of Girard, Kansas. But some Socialists wanted a publication that would broaden their appeal, especially to families. Thus in 1910 they began to publish the Coming Nation as a supplement to the Appeal. Edited by Russell and Algie M. Simons, it featured complex articles on economics and politics, along with a children's page, a women's column, fiction, and drawings. Each week page one prominently featured an editorial written by Russell. Although financial problems continually plagued the publication in its run from 1910 to 1912, the Coming Nation was unique among radical publications. It attempted to move past politics and economic theory and fuse the concerns that people faced in everyday life with overarching issues about how to reach the "Co-Operative Commonwealth." Unfortunately Simons and Russell never had enough money to produce the quality publication they wanted. Furthermore, while the Socialists were preaching on their pages that under Socialism "democracy would be realized, the family would be strengthened and public morality would be improved," behind the scenes they were increasingly undermining this vision of harmony, acting like bourgeois capitalists fighting over a loose nickel.
In his 1933 autobiography, recalling the days when Socialism was growing in leaps and bounds and hopes were high, Russell noted the conflicting strains in the Socialist Party. Upon entering the party, one automatically became "comrade." This custom, imported from Germany, "represented a beautiful ideal," Russell said, even though he felt it "was unsuited for America." It was even more unsuited for the fractious debate that often dominated party meetings. In New York a central committee made all decisions on policy for the party's local branches. Russell was a delegate to the committee, which met every Saturday at East Eighty-fourth Street in Manhattan. "We sat always until 2 a.m. and sometimes later, ardently discussing the points of pins and the like vital matters," noted Russell sarcastically. There was no limit to debate and the factions often engaged in what Russell described as "acrimonious squabbling." The Socialists, in fact, had been squabbling ever since the party's creation in 1901. The party was born out of a wonderful ideal—that the people should own and share resources—but deciding how to get there, what tactics to employ, and who should lead the crusade split the comrades endlessly. "The great compensating fact about the whole business," Russell noted, "was the unmistakable spirit of devotion to a cause in which all believed implicitly." As Russell told friend Algernon Lee, "I could kick myself" for not joining the party earlier.
But Russell had barely declared for Socialism in 1908 when he watched an angry dispute break out between Simons, his future co-editor, and William English Walling, with whom he would soon start the NAACP. Walling, not even a party member, wrote a letter seeking to oust five members of the party's national executive committee, including Simons. Walling wanted the party to ally itself with the union movement, a decision that many opposed because the unions were pro-capitalist. When Walling's letter outlining his reasons and calling for the ousters was read aloud at a party meeting, it caused uproar. Party mainstay Victor Berger said Walling was at the head of a "cabal" to disrupt the party. But there was no cabal; the party members just differed wildly on numerous key issues.
The issue of labor unions was particularly tricky. The Socialists considered themselves the party of the workers; after all, they wanted the workers to own the factories... eventually. The labor movement, however, was more concerned with immediate improvements in salaries and working conditions. The American Federation of Labor, led by Samuel Gompers, staunchly opposed Socialism. Russell wrote and said little about labor. Even in speeches he gave scant attention to the question, except to note that wages were not keeping pace with costs. When he did write about labor, however, he was typically of two minds—Progressive and radical. Gompers, America's most important labor leader, was "sensitive, imaginative, kindly," Russell wrote in a 1909 profile, and he came away from an interview with Gompers with "increased respect" for how he had helped the unionists. But he noted that Gompers's concern for the workers would do little to halt poverty, slums, and breadlines. Powerful unions were not enough to ameliorate the gut issues that moved Russell.
The other more vexing question raised by an alliance with labor concerned violence. Was "direct action" by unions and workers—strikes, slowdowns, and sabotage—ever justified? Should socialists obey injunctions and laws passed, interpreted and enforced by defenders of capitalism when those laws operated against the interests of the working class? Was violence to bring about the Co-operative Commonwealth ever justified? A 1910 dynamite bomb that killed twenty people in a labor dispute at the Los Angeles Times; the great 1912 strike in the textile mills of Lawrence, Massachusetts; and ongoing threats of "direct action" by "Big Bill" Haywood and the International Workers of the World all precipitated a heated quarrel over the efficacy of labor violence as the socialists prepared to go to Indianapolis. Even though Russell was signing his letters to other socialists "Fraternally yours," the party was clearly divided into two less-than-brotherly camps: the moderates and conservatives, also called the constructivists, were on one side. The radicals, sometimes known as "impossibilists," who believed in more aggressive action, were on the other. While Russell was impatient with social injustice and capitalism's flaws, he was nonetheless a conservative socialist, adamantly insisting that evolution, not revolution, was needed to bring about socialism. "Socialism is inevitable," Russell wrote, "because evolution, the process of conditions, the immutable laws of human development make it as certain as the sun." The constructivists were generally content to educate and propagandize, and then turn to elections as the preferred route to socialism. This might mean a slow process of change, and some constructivists were willing to accept immediate changes in the form or government regulation. Certainly Russell's reporting, on prisons and on Trinity Church, for example, implied the need for immediate change and reform. But even on the matter of reform, the socialists were split. Some felt that to give in to reform was to accept and help capitalism. Others felt that Progressive changes were acceptable, for to reject them was to turn the Socialist Party into only a party of dreams. The impossibilists were not content to wait for the capitalists to reform their system; they wanted to use "direct action," in the form of strikes, for example. Some felt that violence was acceptable. In particular, the International Workers of the World—the Wobblies—were reputed to have anarchists in their ranks whose penchant for violence would ruin socialism's chances of attracting more Americans to the fold.
Not all the socialists' disputes were over policy and substance; at times the arguments were petty and personal. The writer Gustavus Myers, whose histories of corporate chieftains were much like his friend Russell's, was told to appear before the party's Central Committee to answer charges that he had criticized another party member in uncivil terms. Myers refused to appear, declaring, "If suspension is to be the price for freedom of speech in the Socialist Party, particularly in self defense, I shall very gladly pay the price." Myers quit the party. Even Eugene V. Debs, the party's presidential candidate in the three previous elections and the most well known and revered socialist in America, was involved in angry personal disputes with both New York's Morris Hillquit and Milwaukee's Victor Berger. "I have been silent under his insults a good many times for the sake of the party," Debs declared of Berger, "but [I will] tell a few truths about Berger the Boss and the bully that will put him right before the comrades." Russell understood that some of the infighting had to with "personal ambitions... men that mixed much desire for limelight with a purpose to emancipate the working class." And the feuding troubled Russell. "We have not one moment to waste in internal quarrels," he declared.
While Russell was as impatient for change to occur as some of the more left-wing party members, he was restrained and even cordial in his approach to those both in and out of the party. In fact, despite his bitterness toward capitalism, he always maintained warm friendships with those who had more conventional political beliefs. His closest friend was David Graham Phillips, the former newsman who turned out two novels a year after he left Pulitzer's fold in 1902. While Phillips flirted with socialism, he stuck to believing capitalism could be reformed; Russell stayed close to him nonetheless. Tragedy struck Phillips on January 21, 1911, when a deranged man who thought that a Phillips novel had maligned his Southern family shot him in Gramercy Park in Manhattan. Russell rushed to his friend's bedside, but Phillips died three days later. Russell's most frequent correspondent during this time was Julia Marlowe Sothern, who had been America's most famous actress before her retirement and permanent move to Europe. Russell spent two months each summer in Europe, often visiting Marlowe in Switzerland and Paris with his second wife, Theresa Hirschl, whom he had met in Chicago and married in 1909. Hirschl was a native of Davenport, Iowa, like Russell, but it is unclear if they had known each other growing up. Like Marlowe and Russell, Theresa shared a love of the arts, and she fit easily into his other orbit, the one centered on poetry, music, and theater into which politics and economics rarely intruded.
Russell also kept in close touch during this period with Arthur Brisbane, his former colleague who had become Hearst's second-in-command. Brisbane moved to the political right over the years and owned considerable New York real estate, yet that did not hinder his friendship with Russell, to whom he jokingly signed letters "Downtrodden proletariat." For Russell, Brisbane the landlord was simply the logical product of a competitive system, a theme he repeated over and over in his 1911 book Business: The Heart of the Nation. He used harsh words about capitalism, but his actions were conciliatory. For example, he never commented publicly on the issues that split the party and seemed to think compromise was always possible. When a union disturbance threatened the editorial independence of the party's daily newspaper, The Call, Russell commented: "I think the men in the union must be reasonable persons and cannot want to insist upon conditions that would make publication impossible. I should think some kind of compromise would be feasible and much preferable to any row." Negotiate, talk, and settle differences the way a "reasonable man" would, he suggested. He asked, "Is it impossible that the men in [the union] might be reasoned with?" As the party prepared for its presidential nominating convention in May 1912 in Indianapolis, Indiana, Russell tried to play the role of reasonable man, a task that would prove to be increasingly daunting.
III. CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENT
The year 1912 was a watershed in American politics. Teddy Roosevelt, who Russell called the "wild man from Oyster Bay," decided to come out of retirement, create a new political party, and challenge his hand-picked successor, William Howard Taft. Russell called Taft "the putterer" because he did little but putter around the golf course while America's problems mounted. The Democrats were pinning their hopes for a return to power on the man from Princeton University, Woodrow Wilson. Meanwhile, the optimistic Socialists were hoping to build on their strong showing in 1908 when Debs received 402,000 votes and drew large inspired crowds to Socialist rallies. Russell was downright ebullient in his Coming Nation column, declaring, "Socialism has advanced to the point where it is a serious menace to the exiting order." He added, "reaction cannot much longer be dominant in America." Debs echoed Russell, commenting in early spring of 1912, "The outlook is positively inspiring... things are shaping rapidly for the undoing of the powers that are grinding the faces of the people." Indeed, Socialism had made gains, electing by 1911 one congressman, 18 state legislators, 33 mayors, 2 township chairs, and 313 other officials. Reflecting on the progress he saw the Socialists making, and with just a touch of hyperbole, Russell declared: "There has never been another time in the history of the world when it was so good to be alive."
By mid-May the Socialists began gathering in Indianapolis, the city in which the party was born eleven years earlier. Representatives from every state except South Carolina were on hand, including the new kid on the block, Charles Edward Russell, who was attending his first national convention of Socialists. As a reporter he had covered the conventions of the Democrats and Republicans, but at this one he was a participant—and, as it turned out, a leading contender for the party's presidential nomination. Although a party member for only four years, he came to the convention riding a streak of victories as a writer-reformer, one of the only delegates who was known nationwide, and one with a reputation as an orator who could move and inspire audiences. New York's twenty-three-man delegation was enamored of Russell. Russell had to know, however, that the Socialist Party belonged to Eugene Victor Debs, the God of American socialism who had run for president in the three previous elections. Debs, like Russell, was an inspiring speaker known throughout the nation. As a paternal figure who tried to avoid becoming embroiled in party squabbles, Debs was also able to bridge the radical and conservative factions of the party.
There is no indication that Debs and Russell worked on any issues together before or after the convention. There are no letters between them and no reason to believe they had a personal friendship. This is not to say that they were enemies. In fact, in the one reference Russell makes to Debs in his writings, he calls him "the apostle and solider of the working class." On the other hand, there was some rivalry between the two, at least in Russell's mind. When Debs went to speaking engagements for the party, he was paid $100. When the party offered Russell only $50, he balked, even though he found it "painful and awkward" to voice his complaint. "It would be very difficult for me to think that you intended to offer me less than you paid to Comrade Debs," he wrote a party official. Russell saw himself as Debs's equal. They clearly came from different worlds. Debs had been involved in labor and union activity since the great Pullman strike of 1894, and Socialism had been his milieu since before the turn of the century. Russell, meanwhile, has been immersed in journalism, writing about the activities of leaders such as Debs, but he was more comfortable in Progressive and reform circles than in radical activity. That the two had in common a passion for the common people is clear. Debs, however, was known to like a good time, while Russell the teetotaler was a less rough-and-tumble personality. There was no worry about social gatherings between the two at the 1912 convention: Debs chose not to attend, even though the convention was taking place in his home state, and his absence fed rumors that his often-problematic health had worsened. Moreover, his calming and lordly figure might have mellowed what was soon to be a stormy convention.
New York delegate Morris Hillquit opened the proceedings on May 18 by applauding the Socialist Party's growth from 10,000 members in 1901 to 100,845 dues-paying members in 1912, making it "a political party of the first magnitude... a factor in the social, political and public life of this country." But he added a warning: "Let us not waste time [on] petty, unimportant, insignificant matters." On Day Two a Tennessee delegate tried to lighten the mood by reminding the attendees that Socialism was "a movement for joy, for happiness, for health, for laughter, for flowers, and for the good things of earth in general." They applauded as he added, "This is the best world I ever got into, in spite of the fact that it is run by the capitalist class." The "doggoned socialists," shouldn't "make such sour faces. You are not going to catch flies with vinegar, and if you want to catch a bear use honey or molasses. Now, friends, be cheerful about the thing and don't quarrel much, and when you do quarrel put on a smiling face." Laughter echoed through the hall. But then somber-faced and sour John Spargo of Vermont got up to ask that foreign delegates be recognized, ignoring completely the previous speaker. It was time to do business, and honey was not in the recipe. On Days Three bickering broke out about whether a commission form of government gave Socialism a better chance to take root. On Day Four fighting became nastier when a committee headed by the Coming Nation's Simons urged that private farms be socialized. One delegate immediately challenged the report, but another questioned his right even to speak on the convention floor. A third delegate followed by saying that only farmers should enter into this discussion, not delegates from urban areas. Another then asked whether the report meant that all private property should be communally owned or just farms. Didn't the people own all the earth's land? Finally, someone reminded the convention that the party already had a position on this issue and had rejected communal property. The debate ended, having gone nowhere.
The next day was more productive. Russell, making his first appearance on the dais, praised the "spirit of socialist unity that has been such a beautiful and attractive feature of this convention." He presented the delegates with recommendations of the platform committee he chaired. They approved abolishing convict labor for anyone under sixteen years of age, equal voting rights for men and women, shorter work days, a day and a half off each week for workers, more factory inspections, public works programs for the unemployed, old age insurance, compulsory accident insurance, and a graduated income tax. A proposal to eliminate all federal courts was controversial. Russell defended it by saying, " We take the federal courts of this country to be a source of infinite evil in the community. Being a source of evil we think we should cut it out." Finally, Russell agreed to change the wording of that proposal and a handful of others also. He was gracious and moderate in making concessions. But then, as Russell's work was finished, the fireworks broke out.
Jeb Harriman of California had alluded to a simmering issue when on May 22 he argued for more aggressive tactics by the party. "You don't scatter literature when a man is starving: you throw a beefsteak in his mouth," he observed. "The socialist party as I conceive it has but one purpose, and that is to apply its philosophy, not to theorize about it, but to apply it. " Harriman was not content to wait for the ballot box to reap dividends; his comments were a veiled attack on the party's moderates. But many party members feared where Harriman's brand of activism would lead. Syndicalists, anarchists, and the Wobblies—all wanted aggressive actions that many felt threatened Socialism's viability. Delegate Cassidy of New York rebutted Harriman, pointing to the "great danger, the tremendous danger that faces the movement today... from the end... that smells of violence and anarchy." A secret caucus led by Victor Berger and Morris Hillquit drafted an amendment to the party's constitution that read: "Any member of the party who opposes political action or advocates crime, sabotage or other methods of violence as a weapon of the working class to aid in its emancipation, shall be expelled from membership in the party." The amendment was aimed directly at "Big Bill" Haywood and the IWW faction, and it touched off even angrier exchanges. "Sabotage means jack-ass methods of fighting capitalism. In the end it spells but the philosophy of the individualist," one delegate yelled. When a delegate from New York began telling a long story about how the anarchists had marred some New York rallies, he exceeded his allotted time and shouting ensued about whether he should continue. Another delegate tried to drown him out, declaring that the Socialists should not air their internal disputes in public. Responded another: "I don't believe this is a washing of dirty linen. This had better be thrashed now than to be held in abeyance."
The party's organizers had planned that on Day Six, at three o'clock, all work would stop and the presidential nomination would take place. No one had expected that a debate on violence would be in progress. But the delegates voted to take a short break and then resume the debate. The nomination would have to wait. When they returned, Berger, perhaps the second most powerful Socialist in the party next to Debs, took to the floor. "Let us be perfectly sincere about this matter," said the man from Milwaukee. "The time has come when the two opposite trends of thought that we have had must clash again." He meant Socialism and Anarchism. "There never can be any bridge," he said, decrying those would use the party for "IWWism, sabotage, and syndicalism." Dramatically, Berger insisted, "I do not believe in murder as a means of propaganda; I do not believe in theft as a means of expropriation; nor in continuous riot as a free speech agitation." Berger then threatened to quit the party and take his considerable Midwest organization with him. When he finished, another delegate mockingly replied that Berger always threatened to quit, but never did. Berger's words, however, had aptly summed up the opposition to violence.
Although Russell was silent at the convention about violence, the issue was one with which he had grappled. He made up his mind about it in the winter of 1907, while he was researching stories on New York City's rail lines. One night in a howling snowstorm he talked with young women who had just been dismissed from a factory job that paid meager wages. They were trying to decide if they had a nickel to take the trolley home. Just then a heated limousine carrying one of the factory owners who was wearing a fur-lined coat drove by. Russell was infuriated. "I began to understand what oppression meant," Russell recalled. Moreover, he added, "I began to feel coming up in my head the old jungle impulse for vengeance. I wanted something in my hand to throw." But Russell decided that violence would be foolish. "No act of violence could possibly help those victims of the system. Any act of violence would only degrade me to the level of the thief." Russell decided that the workers needed to unite, not fight. With the issue long decided in his mind, he thought the debate at the convention was a waste of time. "Nobody knows how [Socialism] is going to be established," he wrote shortly after the convention. "We might as well quarrel about how the wind is going to blow seven years from today." Furthermore, he said, "I don't give a hoot how it is established. All I care about is to get it and to get it in the shortest possible space of time, because every day that it is delayed costs hundreds of lives needlessly sacrificed to the blood-dripping profit system." While one could interpret the "I don't give a hoot" comment to mean that Russell might support violence, the evidence points in an opposite direction. For Russell's wing of the party, especially the Socialists from New York, incremental change and gradual progress was acceptable. Ballots and not bullets would bring them to the Promised Land. And the majority of the party agreed, voting 191 to 90 in favor of the anti-violence amendment to the party's constitution.
Having succeeded at getting its way on the sabotage question, the party's right wing now zeroed in on the presidency, which was somehow anticlimactic after the slugfest over violence. Debs had been the party's standard-bearer for every election since 1900, and his vote totals had improved each year. But the powerful Berger, with his Milwaukee and Chicago followings, wanted someone less independent than Debs, someone he could "boss," as Debs noted privately. The New York coalition sought a candidate who might better speak for the urban East. Russell was a logical choice. In fact, the International Socialist Review seemed to imply that the convention would look to either Debs or Russell when it asked the duo to write, side by side, articles on the party's strategy for 1912 in an issue published just before the convention. Oddly, Russell, the passionate writer, did not come across as well as Debs, the passionate orator, in detailing his position. Both agreed that the Socialists needed to stick to their principles and not to sell out to reform or the unions. "The moment [socialism] takes a seat at the grimy board is the moment it dies within," Russell wrote. Debs warned of giving in to "bourgeois reform." Getting elected was not worth giving up on the principles of socialism, he said. Russell used the examples of Australia and New Zealand, where socialism had flourished, to argue his point of view, but the story he told was obtuse and complicated. It hardly seemed that it would capture the imagination of Midwest farmers, Western miners, and Southern Populists. Only the immigrants of New York, if they could bear to read it, might relate to Russell's story. While he concluded on an inspirational note—"If this cause of socialism is worth believing in it is worth following to the end without compromise"—his message was likely lost on the delegates. Debs, meanwhile, was inspirational throughout, arguing clearly what socialism must stand for, what it must resist, and whom it must help. As a biographer recounts, Debs could be a formidable force. Once at a rally in Illinois, two Irish women came to hear him speak. After Algie M. Simons addressed the crowd, one woman said to the other, "An' is that Debs?" The other replied, "Oh no, that ain't Debs—when Debs comes out you'll think it's Jesus Christ."
The only question that remained was about Debs's health. Ever since the 1908 campaign, when he had periodically suffered from exhaustion, Debs had had recurring ailments, including throat surgery in 1910. But his allies made clear that the candidate was now healthy, rested, and eager for a new fight; he would accept the nomination. With that assured, the right wing of the party was no match for Debs. The Milwaukee-Chicago coalition nominated Emil Seidel, who was Milwaukee's socialist mayor. The New Yorkers nominated Russell. Since the Socialists eschewed the politics of personality, no nominating speeches were made. The candidates were named and the vote was taken. Debs received 165 votes, Seidel 56, and Russell 54. Even if the right wing had coalesced around one candidate, it would still have fallen short of defeating Debs. The nomination was his. Seidel immediately asked that the nomination be made unanimous. Russell responded: "I never had greater joy in my life than I have when I second that motion." Russell then declined to be considered for the vice presidency; Seidel was thus chosen with 159 votes. In effect, the convention was over. The Socialists went home, and when Russell returned to New York he was quickly chosen by his party to be the nominee again for governor. With Indianapolis behind him, Russell began his second campaign as a Socialist political candidate.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE DOVE BECOMES A HAWK
I. A RADICAL IN THE STOCK MARKET?
EVER SINCE HIS BREAKDOWN AND RECURRENT health problems began in 1902, Russell had taken a vacation each summer for at least a month. Without fail, he would sail to Europe, usually visiting France, Switzerland, or Germany. The baths at Carlsbad were one of his favorites. His good friends, Julia Marlowe and her husband, Edward Sothern, would anxiously await the arrival of "Charles and Theresa." The Russells and the Sotherns were an odd combination. Theresa, an ardent feminist, was active in the women's movement. Charles Russell was a sober, serious, and passionate social crusader, a workaholic. The Sotherns, meanwhile, were America's most famous theatrical couple. Edward, fifty three, scion of a distinguished British theatrical family, was a successful touring actor in the 1880s and 1890s. Marlowe, also English-born, first appeared on the New York stage in 1887, where she was an immediate success and soon after a national celebrity. Like the Russells, the Sotherns always spent summer in fashionable European locations. Eventually, Julia moved permanently to Europe and wrote often to Russell. When the couples got together, it was a time of gaiety and fun. Russell could discuss the theater, poetry, and Shakespeare. Socialism took a backseat. This is not to say that Russell did not keenly observe economic conditions in Europe, especially in Germany, which he so admired. But public policy and social issues were mostly pushed aside when he was on holiday.2
Even though a governor's race beckoned in New York, the year 1912 was no different from others. Soon after the Socialists' convention in the spring, the fifty-one-year-old Russell set sail for Europe. He had long been planning this trip, writing regularly to Marlowe. Their correspondence reveals a different side of Russell, one that raises serious questions about his true commitment to the principles of socialism that had become so much a part of his public persona. Beginning in 1901, well before his conversion to socialism, Russell began investing money in the stock market for Marlowe. The investments were in his name, probably because Marlowe, who was famous, wanted her investments anonymous. Russell invested $19,000 in New York City municipal bonds; $10,000 in the International Paper Company, and $9,000 in the Metropolitan Street Railway Company.3 In 1901 alone, Marlowe's investments earned $7,252.57, part of which Russell received as a commission. It was not until 1903 that Marlowe's name appeared on her investments, but nonetheless it was Russell who was choosing them, including a number of mortgages on various properties. Mostly, Russell recommended that Marlowe invest in government bonds. When she asked him about investing in railroad securities in 1912, he demurred. "I could not recommend them to anybody for I do not believe in them," he wrote, although he did not privately attack the rail moguls with the venom that he used in his magazine articles. Moreover, Russell did not seem to enjoy his investment advice, even though he profited. "The longer I live," he told her, "the clearer it seems to me that there is no satisfaction in anything connected with business." He added, "I had much rather be a Socialist agitator on a pittance than a multi-millionaire."
Despite his disdain for the world of business, however, it is clear that Russell, the anti-capitalist, was playing the capitalist game. It seems contradictory that Russell, so publicly angry about the inadequacies of capitalism, was privately engaging in the sport that was Wall Street. But his correspondence does indicate that almost all of the investments were municipal bonds, especially in the later years of his ongoing advice to Marlowe, which continued well into the 1930s. Some socialists believed that investment in cities and governments was not a contradiction and was an appropriate method of helping the nation's infrastructure. Even mortgages can be defended. The Socialist Party was quite emphatic that it was not opposed to private property. Only large and vital industries were to be socialized and taken over by the workers, although the list of which industries would be included was never clear. What is also not clear are the types of buildings that Russell owned with Marlowe and his old friend and former colleague Arthur Brisbane. Was Russell a landlord? And if so, was he a better landlord than Trinity Church? Did he own property that housed large businesses? There is no apparent answer to those questions, although when he died in 1941 he owned no real estate.
The evidence about his complicity in Wall Street activity indicates that Russell was not a revolutionary bent on remaking the world in radical ways. He admitted he knew little of Marxist theory. What he did understand was that the lust for profit drove people in directions that contradicted what he saw as man's true nature as a cooperative animal. He felt that the industrial world was inevitably headed down a path of monopolistic industries, but the profits would go not to Rockefeller or Morgan but to the workers. And he wanted to help make that transition come about with education and elections. Russell likely also saw the return on his investments as a means to allow him to do more work for the cause than to have to worry about making an income. During his freelance years from 1902 to 1915, he took various jobs as an editor—at Hampton's, at the Coming Nation, and at Pearson's magazine. Undoubtedly the steady income from his editing chores was useful to Russell, who traveled extensively to various American cities and to Europe. But he lived modestly, owning a house on I Street in Washington, D.C. Smoking good cigars was his only vice. At a time when he was bickering over what fee he should be paid for speeches, he wrote to one party official: "I prefer to make my service free, and I am going to strive to shape my affairs so that I can do these things without money and without price." Julia Marlowe's investments gave him that chance. In the meantime, he needed the money he earned from his magazine articles and the $75 to $100 fees that he received for his speaking engagements. When he finished his vacation in Europe, speaking engagements beckoned. Russell went back on tour for the Chautauqua, a popular commercial enterprise that hired famous authors, scientists, musicians, and political leaders and sent them on tours of American cities to provide provincial entertainment and "culture under a tent." More urgent, however, was the 1912 race for governor of New York for which Russell had agreed again to be the Socialist Party candidate.
II. REFORMED REFORMER CAMPAIGNS
John Dix, who defeated Russell in the 1910 campaign, was a disappointment as New York governor. Independent Democrats hoped for a reform administration, but Dix had proved to be utterly subservient to the Tammany Hall party machine. Woodrow Wilson, running for president, also opposed his renomination; he wanted an unbossed candidate. The Democrats thus turned to William Sulzer, also known as "Plain Bill"" or the "boy spellbinder" because of his oratorical charm. Sulzer was a mixed character, giving lip service to reform causes but also maintaining close relationships with the bosses.7 The Republicans nominated Jeb. E. Hedges, a prominent attorney, while the Progressive Party chose Oscar S. Straus, a well-known philanthropist and former member of Teddy Roosevelt's cabinet. For Russell, the three opposing parties were one and the same: only Socialism offered a different and real remedy. "The other three propose to maintain the existing system but to trim it a little and tinker it a little, if there is anything wrong," he said. Russell attacked all three parties during the governor's race, but he reserved particular disdain for Roosevelt, the man who had coined the word "muckraker" just six years before.
Russell had been observing Roosevelt for many years, first when TR was New York's police commissioner, then its governor, and then as vice president and president. He especially resented Roosevelt's saying that he was a friend of the worker. As Russell reminded voters, when he was New York's governor, Roosevelt sent out the state militia in April 1900 to break up a protest by immigrant workers who were building a reservoir for New York City in the Hudson Valley. The workers were simply asking that their wages be raised to the going rate for construction. One state National Guardsman was killed in a confrontation with the workers. "A friend of labor?" Russell asked. "Spot him instantly as a fakir and fraud." Russell somewhat exaggerated Roosevelt's view of labor, however, since he was actually progressive in his tenure as New York's governor. His administration supported the workers' request for higher wages in the construction of the New York dam, and Roosevelt ordered an inquiry to see if the workers had been forced to work longer than allowed hours.
Russell went after TR's Bull Moose Party because he believed that its ulterior motive was to thwart the rising socialist fervor. As the capitalists began to realize that Socialism was gaining, that "revolt was in the air," Russell said, "terror awoke in their hearts." They decided to develop a third party, not to defeat the Democrats or Republicans, but to siphon votes from Socialism. Of course, while this may have in effect happened, Russell could not have truly believed that Roosevelt came out of retirement just to stop the revolution. While he was president, Roosevelt had written private letters saying that he feared the great unrest that was being caused especially by the muckraking exposes, but Roosevelt returned because he was unhappy with William Howard Taft and because he wanted to win. Nonetheless, the allegation always made it into Russell's standard stump speech—and the audiences loved it as he mocked the "big Bull Moose with shining white teeth."
Russell made a more serious allegation during the campaign, one that created national headlines and led him to testify before a U.S. Senate Committee investigating campaign contributions. In early September, as the campaign heated up, Russell told a cheering audience that Roosevelt, while he was President, had demanded that financier J. P. Morgan contribute $100,000 to the Republicans if he wanted favorable legislation passed. Russell said one of his sources, whom he did not name, was with the New York banker as he had a telephone conversation with the White House; Morgan was reportedly furious at Roosevelt's demand. To Russell, the story was evidence of how the political parties were giving away the government to the highest capitalist bidder. When he first told the story, an audience applauded for eight minutes. A Senate Committee called Russell to Washington in October, insisting that he provide details. He used the platform to argue that both political parties regularly prostituted themselves for campaign contributions, and that only socialism would take the "for sale" sign off the government lawn. The committee demanded to know Russell's sources, and Russell obliged, saying a colleague at Hampton's, Judson Welliver, was his source. Welliver denied the story when he testified, but Russell said that when he reminded Welliver of the incident Welliver did not deny it. While Russell did not backtrack on his version, he told the committee that he could not verify that Roosevelt had pressured Morgan. He could simply say that a reliable source told him that Morgan said Roosevelt did. The investigation went no further, but Russell again was in the eye of the storm and able, as he liked to say, to agitate. The New York Times placed the story and his picture on page one.
Aside from the flap caused by the Roosevelt allegation, the campaign of 1912 was much like the one two years earlier. Russell scooted all over the state to crowds of varying sizes, mostly very small upstate and often quite large in New York City, the Socialists' stronghold. Two days after the Roosevelt incident, for example, fifteen thousand people gathered in Madison Square Garden to hail Debs and Russell. Debs arrived late, but when he stepped to the podium thousands waved red kerchiefs, aprons, and flags, accompanied by clapping, stomping, cheering and whistling. "The effect was startling," wrote the Times. Caught up in the moment, Russell and Debs, ostensible rivals, spontaneously hugged each other on the platform while the screaming throng cheered for twenty-nine minutes. Whatever tension had existed between the two was now gone. Russell spoke before Debs and jabbed the Progressive candidate for governor, Straus, who was the owner of Macy's department store. "You don't hear about the exploited women and children in his store," Russell charged. He suggested a torchlight parade of Straus employees, with coins jingling in their pockets to reflect their paltry salaries. Debs mocked the candidates for national office, Taft, Wilson, and Roosevelt. "Not one of them has ever had to look for a real job [or] been slugged by a capitalistic policemen," he said.
The campaign was officially off and running, interrupted only slightly when the Socialist leaders all gathered in Schenectady in late October in support of the Socialist Mayor George R. Lunn, who was arrested for speaking at a rally in support of striking mill workers. Russell and others lambasted the police action and declared victory because Lunn had been quickly released. Russell went from Schenectady to Syracuse and then back to New York, emphasizing three points as the final days of the campaign approached. With the cost of living constantly going up, Americans were becoming "worse fed, worse housed, worse clothed," Russell pointed out. Stop building battle ships, he exhorted the government, "to defend ourselves against mythical foreign enemies...." With World War I looming, however, he would soon change his tune on defense. Next, he turned to the Morgan and Rockefeller group that he said controlled one-third of the nation's wealth. "These capitalists have practically abolished the republic. They own the government." Citizens had no chance against their colossal might. "The corporations dance on your laws and kick them full of holes," he argued. Monopolies did make sense, Russell told New Yorkers; the trust was an efficient mechanism. "The only trouble is that so far it has been privately owned and operated... for private greed. Now let it be owned and operated by the community and operated for the common good and the trust becomes the greatest blessing of the age." Finally, he stressed that reform and regulation would not undo the harm caused by the trusts. Capitalism must go, he declared, adding, "We have entered upon a war against this system that will never cease until we have swept it from the face of the earth."
If the final days were any indication, the Socialists seemed poised—as they had in the 1910 campaign—to make a dent in the vote totals of the other parties. At an open-air rally in Manhattan's Union Square, ten thousand cheered twenty minutes for Russell before he could speak. When the crowd grew silent, he laid into Roosevelt 's "little 2–cent program of reform." "Let the working class rise" and take over the government, he told the roaring crowd. The next night, with 3,000 people on hand, Russell became emotional, saying, "I would rather have one exploited worker take my hand in his hard hand and have him call me comrade than have any office on earth." Service to the world was "the only thing of any real value." The following night he told a group in Brooklyn that reform was futile. "This is something about which I ought to know. For, let me confess, I am myself a reformed reformer."
On the final night of campaigning, a crowd estimated at fifteen thousand thronged the streets of the Lower East Side in Manhattan's Rutgers Square. People screamed, "Russell is coming, Russell is coming." He could hardly get through the streets. The people kept chanting. "Debs, Debs, Debs... Russell, Russell, Russell." When he spoke, he told them, "We socialists are not fighting for votes or office. We are fighting to save human lives right now." Russell got in his car trying to cross the Williamsburg Bridge, but the car moved at a snail's pace as the crowds surged around it. Finally, Russell got out again near the bridge and spoke once more. "We are going to make such a dent in capitalism tomorrow," he said. Satisfied, the crowd let his car finally cross into Brooklyn. It must have been a heady evening for Russell. He insisted that Socialists did not run for office for personal gain, but the adoring crowds made him emotional and hopeful. On Election Day, however, his hopes were dashed again. Republican Sulzer won with 664,488, Democrat Hedges got 448,918, Straus 380,899, and Russell 56,917. "It was a splendid fight and we have a made a splendid record," Russell observed. "Now let us go to it for the next great fight beginning today." Like a minister tending to his congregation, Russell wrote in The Call, "Praise socialism from which all blessings flow. " His friends, however, did not see any blessings. When Russell visited with them in Consodine's Restaurant in Manhattan after Election Day, they jeered him in a friendly way. Nobody votes for you... you pay your own expenses... you must be a lunatic, they laughingly told him, or, as he wrote in his autobiography, "the nation's incomparable dumb-bell." Nonetheless, he would do it again in less than a year.
III. ONE MORE ROUND WITH THE OCTOPUS
The muckraking journalists not only made headlines with their startling and passionate exposes in the first decade of the century, they became headliners themselves in the process. When the Chautauqua tent circuit got in full gear by 1910, Lincoln Steffens, Will Irwin, and Charles Russell were among the attractions who agreed to travel around the country giving talks to audiences in cities large and small. The headliner, however, was William Jennings Bryan, the "great commoner" and erstwhile presidential candidate who consistently drew crowds of thirty thousand people a night. It was all part of the uniquely American phenomenon that started in Chautauqua, New York, in 1904 and sought to combine, as Russell pointed out, "culture and profits." The Chautauqua was a traveling tent enterprise that sent out a strange blend of inspiring and educational speakers along with entertainers, ranging from barbershop quartets to violin concertos. At its height, 30 million Americans a year attended Chautauqua evenings in twelve thousand different Main Street locations. "It is not to be denied that often the Chautauqua was a great educational factor," Russell observed in his autobiography, but nonetheless he hated the experience of being on the road, doing a talk each evening at a different provincial location. When radio invaded American homes in the 1920s, Russell said, it brought with it "much evil," but "glory be to it," he added, "for it killed the Chautauqua."
Russell's problem with "being an attraction," as he called it, was that speakers often had to work a month straight, with nary a night off. They booked their own transportation, stayed in flea-bitten hotels, and tried to uplift their audience even when, as in Russell's case, their message was gloomy and foreboding. In one letter to Julia Marlowe, he complained that the Chautauqua was taking so much time and that he was longing for the baths of Carlsbad. Who could blame him? While it might have represented "the parliament of the people" and brought culture and enlightenment to the provinces, the tour was also backbreaking. On summer nights the tents were like a Turkish bath and a furnace combined. The audiences, often coming in from farms, could be at times hostile to the speakers, especially ones who preached Socialism, which Russell said they saw in the same category as smallpox or hog cholera.
Nonetheless, Russell went on the road each spring, summer, and fall to tell audiences about the danger of what the Socialists call "the unconsumed surplus," a topic that must have been almost unintelligible to his audience. It had to do, in short, with the fact that scarcity and poverty were common in America on one hand, and yet great wealth and a surplus of goods existed on the other. The people needed access to that unconsumed surplus. When Russell concluded his warning, he was often followed by John Wesley Hill, a powerful orator who would always ask that Russell produce the surplus on the spot and allow the audience to consume it. "This invariably brought down the house and erased my feeble efforts," Russell said. But, oddly, that did not seem to bother Russell as much as the bad food and long hours.
What is strange about this episode in Russell's career is that someone so passionate about the issues would allow himself to be part of what was often a traveling sideshow, the Progressive Era equivalent of a television crossfire of competing ideologies. The Chautauqua, was, in fact, a sizable industry and popular entertainment in an era before radio and television. It was a bit like a Pulitzer or Hearst newspaper, a combination of facts, entertainment, and vaudeville, both exciting and educational. And Russell was still willing to go along with this combination and laugh at himself a bit as he did it. He probably needed the money and liked the earnest folks who he met. For those folks, meeting and greeting the "talent," as they were called—the likes of Warren G. Harding, Walter Lippmann, Herbert Hoover, and Edna Ferber—was a thrill. Most importantly, however, Chautauqua was critical in stimulating thought and discussion on important political, social, and cultural issues of the day.
Despite the diversion of Chautauqua, however, Russell's heart was still more focused on enlightening the public to the great threat to American values—an invisible cartel of monopolists who were grabbing control of the economy and democracy. This was his passion in the years from 1912 to 1915; it can be seen consistently in his writings, lectures, and especially in his run for the mayor of New York City in 1913. The obsession began in earnest when he wrote his 1904 beef -trust articles labeling the meat packers as "the power." Two years later, probing the insurance industry, he glimpsed "a very strange and subtle power that pulled unseen strings, exerted mysterious influences, compelled men to do its bidding." When he joined the Socialist Party in 1908 he pointed to "a power seldom seen but always at work, much stronger and more subtle than any government, a power that we usually recognize by the name of the Financial Interests." As Russell elaborated more and more on this "mysterious octopus," he began to point to what he saw as its center—either J. P. Morgan, the Wall Street banker said to control the "banking trust," or John D. Rockefeller, whose Standard Oil tentacles seemed to wrap around every industry. His weekly column in the Coming Nation repeatedly cited the "the secret, malignant" power of a money trust controlled by "the Morgan gang." "In the history of the world," Russell warned, "there was never a power to be compared with [them]... absolute, irresponsible, autocratic"
How Russell believed these "Central Interests" worked secretly to get their way could be seen in his three-part series of articles in Hearst's Magazine in 1911. Turning away from the railroad owners, Russell focused his reporting on Frederick Weyerhaeuser, the timber king of America who owned 10 percent of the nation's forests. What was so different about the lumber industry, Russell found, was that no central force directing the timber owners could be detected. Nonetheless, Russell found "back of all the schemes were the vast Weyerhaeuser and allied Interests" in a loose but clear alliance that controlled four-fifths of America's lumbering, "pursuing a policy as definite as Standard Oil." Russell said this "remarkable" new development in the trust evolution made it impossible for the anti-trust prosecutors to bring Weyerhaeuser to court. This, of course, also confirmed his persistent belief that oversight of industry was futile, "like a dog chasing its tail." Reform "may afford some harmless amusement to the spectators, but it never gets anywhere," Russell tartly commented. As for the Sherman Anti-Trust Act, he asserted that it was used by the corporations to "fatten and bulwark themselves" and to "confirm and strengthen their hold upon the country." As he had done in his study of the railroads, Russell reached his conclusions by carefully tracing the history of the lumber industry and finding that its founders had a "burning frenzy to get rich, animal-like and irrational." He observed: "Any conception of pioneer heroics fades instantly upon a close examination of [this] sordid and filthy story."
Russell's reporting is impressive, a detailed behind-the-scenes look at an industry that had gotten little attention, coming also at a time when most of the muckrakers had turned to other pursuits. While Hearst's Cosmopolitan magazine had pointed a finger at Weyerhaeuser's influence in 1907, the attack of the muckrakers on the lumber moguls had, as one historian points out, "a popgun quality in sharp contrast with the howitzer bombardments that roared against the Harrimans, Rockefellers, Carnegies, and Morgans. Indeed, the entire lumber industry escaped lightly." Russell tried to correct that as he put aside his socialist rhetoric to return to reporting, even though his themes were reminiscent of his railroad series and repeated what he was saying in public speeches. Using documents and a variety of sources, Russell pointed repeatedly to a "sinister power" that made great profits by passing along costs to the public. Speaking for the ignored consumer, he asked, "Where do we come in?" The problem with Russell's articles, however, was that he missed the real story—and failed in his effort to transform the timber industry. Throughout the Gilded Age, the lumber companies had neutered forests from Minnesota to New York's Adirondacks. From 1880 to 1900 America's population increased 52 percent while its lumber cutting rose 94 percent; Americans used 400 feet of lumber per person while Europeans used only 60 feet apiece. Consumption was out of control, but Russell, who knew Europe so well, missed this fact. Moreover, he also overlooked how scientists, government officials, and lumber industry leaders—all aware of the problem of deforestation—were studying conservation and forest management techniques. In 1911 the Weeks Act was passed by Congress to facilitate the purchases of woodland tracts by the federal government, a good start in the creation of National Forests. In fact, a working alliance that would soon solve the problem of overcutting of forests was developing, with Weyerhaeuser an active and willing participant. But Russell was so stuck on the corporations as big, bad, and evil—"sinister" was the word he used repeatedly—that he could not see the forest for the trees: a progressive coalition was possible and emerging, and it needed a progressive publicist to encourage its development. America did not need socialism to regulate this industry. In his prison series only two years earlier, Russell was willing to hitch his articles to progressive reformers, but now he was less flexible.
When Russell's articles on the lumber trust were completed, he made plans to travel again to Europe. His popularity with the Socialists was stronger than ever. The newspaper The Masses held a giant rally on May 27 in Carnegie Hall in honor of "Mother Jones," the Irish-born radical labor leader, eighty-three years old, who had just been arrested for organizing mine workers in Colorado. Max Eastman, the Masses' editor, was trying to spur the Socialists to more activism, and Mother Jones was the perfect model of consistent and insistent activism. Russell joined her onstage to give the keynote speech. He was met enthusiastically by the crowd, and he "held the vast audience in the grip of his eloquence," reported The Call.
The Socialists turned to Russell to be their mayoral candidate, which he accepted, although he informed the party that he would not return from Europe until late September. When he returned, he debarked from the Princess Irene on September 25 to find reporters waiting. "From all that I have been able to learn," Russell said, "the Socialists are in a better position than they have ever been in a New York City campaign." Russell, too, was in his best position to make a run for elected office. He knew New York City intimately from his years as reporter and editor; the Socialists' strongest base of support was in the city's immigrant quarters, especially Manhattan; and municipal elections were the only ones Socialists had won, for example, in Schenectady and Milwaukee. Russell wasted no time in laying out his themes and going on the attack against thirty-four-year-old John Purroy Mitchell, who represented reformers in the Fusion Party, and Edward E. McCall, forty nine, the Democrat who was Tammany Hall's choice. Russell probably would not have run for mayor if the incumbent, William Gaynor, shot in the throat in 1910 by a disgruntled city employee, had been able to run. In his days crusading for reform in Brooklyn, Russell had portrayed Gaynor as a force for righteousness. It would have been difficult to oppose him, although Russell had come a long way in twenty years. Clean government and good people to run government were hardly the issue. The real concern, he decided, was the "invisible government" that controlled New York City and was trying to put its handpicked candidate—Mitchell—into office. It is the "Ryan-Belmont-Wall Street combine" that is the "real power" in the city, he said. Thomas F. Ryan, the owner of a slew of franchises for city rail lines, and August Belmont, a financier and city power broker, took the place of Rockefeller and Morgan in what Russell called the "secret and intangible influences" that directed the government, perverted court decisions, and silenced the press. Standing before a crowd of 12,500 at the Hippodrome Theatre in Manhattan, Russell cited the "Central Financial Powers" who manipulated their politicians like puppets and operated a "Government of Strings." Only the Socialists, he roared, could make true changes. "The reform movement," he said, "known variously as Fusion, Con-fusion, Fusion-con" was a joke. If they won, Russell noted, it would be only because "they are financed by the millionaires."
Russell could not, of course, really have believed the Socialists had a chance to win the mayor's race of 1913. Despite the gains the movement had made, it was still an under-financed blip-on-the-screen political party, largely misunderstood and often considerably distrusted by the public. In the winter of 1913 Russell suggested that the battle to beat capitalism had entered a "new and probably last stage of the conflict," but nonetheless he could offer no clues as to how the change to socialism would take place—or how the Socialists could make it occur. That same vagueness permeated his mayoral campaign. Despite his knowledge of New York issues and despite the fact that he kept assuring his audience, "We offer you the adequate and exact remedy for every evil that besets the city," he never offered specific plans. He ignored the detailed platform that the socialists had adopted in May when Russell was nominated. In fact, more often than not, Russell sounded like any other politician, offering platitudes. He complained about police corruption, while at the same time he lionized police officers he had known who were heroic and brave. He lamented the decline of the public school system, said it was headed for "extinction," and then offered the obvious: "The public school system is one of the foundations of any republic." He argued that more money was needed for school construction, but he did not say where the money would come from, except to charge that if Belmont and Ryan were not stealing so much, the taxpayers would have more to spend. Russell's solutions to the problems the city faced—population congestion, failing transportation facilities, neglected streets, increasing crime, inadequate health care—called for more money and an enlarged government, solutions that befitted a Progressive as much as a Socialist.
Russell would have balked at any suggestion that his reform goals had anything in common with the other candidates. In fact, a key point of his campaign was mocking the reformers.
"No matter which man wins, the man behind the curtain will still hold the puppets and manipulates them as he pleases," he said. Only the Socialists could cure what ailed New York, he insisted, and he pointed to the bitter fight in the state capitol of Albany that played itself out during the campaign. William Sulzer, the Tammany Hall Democrat who defeated Russell a year earlier, was impeached. His crime—taking bribes before he was ever elected to office—had been exposed by Tammany Hall partisans who were upset that Sulzer, when elected, refused to go along with Tammany chief Murphy's constant demands. In an unprecedented public spectacle, Sulzer was removed from office, which so split the Tammany Hall vote that the Fusion candidate Mitchell swept into office. Even Sulzer, once ousted, stumped for Mitchell as a way of retaliating against Tammany Hall. Russell saw it all as confirmation of his grand theory of a conspiracy. Sulzer's sin was his refusal to go along with the demands of Wall Street. "If he had never antagonized the Financial Powers," Russell wrote, "he would be sitting this day in the office of Governor." But come Election Day, Sulzer was on the sidelines, as was Russell, who garnered 32,000 votes. Mitchell became the city's "boy mayor," sweeping into office with the greatest plurality in the city's history. Russell told the voters what he saw as the hard lesson of the election. "You have turned out of office a set of men marked Tammany and turned into office a set of men marked Fusion." But in the end, "not one of your present hardships will be lessened." Reform, he wrote, was a "Hollow Mockery and Sham." Despite his continuing pessimism about capitalism and the chances for progressive change, Russell should have been encouraged. He increased the Socialist mayoral vote by 200 percent. Maybe Socialism was gaining. Unfortunately, with dark war clouds on the horizon, the advances of both Socialism and Progressivism were soon to be halted.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE AMATEUR DIPLOMAT
I. RECLAIMING HEROES AND FACTS
WITH THE MAYORAL ELECTION BEHIND HIM, the fifty-three-year-old Charles Edward Russell plunged into various new projects, most notably the writing of a biography of Wendell Phillips, the abolitionist reformer from Boston who was his lifelong hero. This was the second of eight biographies that Russell wrote. Coming from a family that had been actively engaged in fighting slavery, Russell would know about and admire Phillips. In fact, many of the positions Russell took in his life resembled those of Phillips, who died in 1880 after a long and distinguished life as a powerful orator. Phillips came to prominence after a speech in Boston's Faneuil Hall in 1835 following the assassination of abolitionist editor Elijah P. Lovejoy. He was unrestrained in his criticism of slaveholding and of Abraham Lincoln's moderate views on the emancipation of slaves. Moreover, it was not enough for Phillips that slaves be freed; he insisted that the government owed blacks land, education, and full civil rights, the radical position Russell espoused in his work for the NAACP. Even after slavery was abolished, Phillips found new unpopular social reform causes to support, just as Russell did throughout his life. Phillips fought for women's suffrage, the abolition of capital punishment, and the rights of labor well before there were unions to protect workers. Perhaps most telling was Russell's admiration for the fact that Phillips adopted positions that were indistinguishable from socialism. It was that allegiance to a non-competitive system that, in Russell's view, made historians forget Phillips. "He championed the cause of labor, he made war upon the wage system... and for this reason alone his name is slighted and his services forgotten," Russell charged. To Russell, Phillips was a neglected and ignored American hero who needed to be reclaimed. Unfortunately, no mainstream publisher agreed, and The Story of Wendell Phillips: soldier of the common good, was put out in 1914 by the socialist publisher C. H. Kerr in Chicago. Nary a book review of Russell's works appeared, and it took 44 years before another biography of Phillips came out.
But the second project that was engaging Russell's attention had greater potential to attract an audience. He was nearing completion of his first autobiography, entitled These Shifting Scenes, which was a whimsical mix of growing-up-in-Iowa tales and adventures in the news business. He recalled the offbeat characters that he encountered in his father's newsroom, told the tale of the Johnstown flood, and described the gruesome sight of the first hanging he witnessed as a reporter. One reviewer called the book "a collection of 'stories' such as will not be found in any newspaper [coming from] the most alert and imaginative reporter's pen." Another reviewer complained, rightly, that Russell was long-winded and that he made "two words do the duty of one." Nonetheless, the reviewer concluded, Russell's "romantic fascination" with journalism made the book worthwhile. The book ends at the turn of the century with Russell romanticizing his days in Joseph Pulitzer's newsroom but inexplicably ignores any mention of his years working for William Randolph Hearst. It stops well before his nervous breakdown, his muckraking crusades, and his turn to political activism. Politics and social issues take a backseat to his narrative of the first part of his life and career, the journalism years that he knew were now over forever. This book was meant to be fun for a reading public that had seen his name in headlines for nearly a decade.
If readers wanted Russell's political voice, they would have to turn to a third book that he brought out in 1914, again for Kerr, Doing Us Good and Plenty. The two years he spent writing weekly sarcastic and scorching columns of criticism of capitalism and the establishment in the Coming Nation, seen only by those in the Socialist reading community, were collected in this edition, but much of it already seemed dated—as well as overly polemical—when the book appeared.
Alongside his book projects, Russell continued reporting in his new outlet, Pearson's magazine, which gave him great freedom to make his argument that reform was folly and that the tentacles of the Morgan cabal extended everywhere. Originally an English monthly, Pearson's started publishing in America in 1901. By 1904, as it began muckraking, its circulation went as high as 250,000, but it could not compete with the larger and more effective monthlies such as McClure's, Everybody's and Cosmopolitan. Nonetheless, editor Arthur W. Little, the son of the publisher, kept trying. At a time when Russell was warning the nation of the attempts by banker J. P. Morgan to swallow up the magazines, Little scoffed at this idea, saying: "Mr. Morgan's partner has not been to see me with a proposition for the purchase of Pearson's, and I am not expecting this."
Assured that Pearson's would not be swallowed up by the corporations, Russell went to work for the magazine as part-time editor and freelance writer. He used Pearson's to continue his assault on America's railroad companies with three articles just before the mayoral campaign of 1913. Then in the fall of 1913 he turned to what he saw as the next great threat to American democracy: the takeover of the nation's news media, which, except for Will Irwin's 1911 exposé of the press in Collier's, had escaped scrutiny. Like most Progressives, Russell had profound faith in public opinion. "Nothing helps a bad situation so much as some good competent X-raying," he observed. "To right any wrong in the United States is, after all, a simple process. You only have to exhibit it where all the people can see it plainly."
The problem in America, as Russell saw it, was that the "Controlling Interests" were making it impossible for the true facts to surface. Russell had long given up on the newspaper as the "tribune of the populace." Once, around the turn of the century, "it lay bare what was wrong, pilloried malelfalctors, [and] indicated improvements" but now "the real editors are the advertisers. And back of them are the Central Financial Interests." Such a view was greatly exaggerated, of course. Advertisers had certainly changed the face of the newspaper and did influence news decisions at various times.
To assert that the advertiser ruled the newspaper reflected a paranoia that could not be backed up by facts, but it was consistent with Russell's obsession with a dark and mysterious force that was turning democracy into plutocracy. "How can we have an enlightened public opinion," he wondered, "when the public is not allowed to know what is going on in this country?" Equally worrisome to Russell was the power of the Associated Press, the newsgathering agency that took its name at the turn of the century and had grown quickly to provide information and facts to hundreds of newspapers. Often, in smaller newspapers, the only view of the outside world came from the AP. Describing the AP as "an engine that causes 30,000,000 minds to have the same thought at the same moment," Russell argued it could not be trusted to give the truth. To document how the AP was misrepresenting news events, Russell went to the scene of a labor disturbance in the Calumet region of upper Michigan, where seventy-two copper miners, their wives, and children had died in a community center in late December. The deaths occurred during the fifth month of a strike when, with sheriff's deputies blocking exits from the town center, someone yelled fire and in the ensuing panic a stampede killed the workers who had gathered for a Christmas celebration.
Why, Russell wondered, did the country know so little of this? He pointed the finger of blame at the Associated Press, which he found simply did not report accurately what happened. Russell, the meticulous investigator, did his own research, which he printed side by side with the AP account. He called his version "fact." His point was made with a question: "Are there any limits... to the actual power of the Controlling Interests?" The AP was a tool for corporate interests, not the people. And the only vehicle left to get out the truth, the magazine, was being gobbled up by the big corporations. In three subsequent articles on "the kept press," Russell tried to show how advertisers and interlocking corporate ownerships made it unlikely that facts that damaged the establishment would ever surface. Russell's articles were smooth, well argued, and well ahead of the time, but they contained few of the "facts" that had made the Calumet article so much more effective. Rhetoric and Russell's obsession with the might of a centralized corporate force took precedence over his normal fidelity to evidence.
II. WAR IS INSANITY
When winter of 1914 ended, Russell went back on the Chautauqua speaker's circuit, pointing still to the need for the public to take over the big corporations. "There is but one way to peace and justice and that is through the cooperative commonwealth," he continued to tell audiences. Russell also showed a new intolerance of modern industrialism as he mocked the fashion industry and pointed to how it attempts "by one childish device after another, to compel the small percentage of the population that has purchasing power to buy things that they do not need." The people owning the trusts, Russell insisted, was the only way to end "the present insane system." President Woodrow Wilson came in for special criticism for telling the public that the "trust" problem had been solved in America. Candidate Wilson was a "roaring champion of the people against the robbers," but once elected, Russell argued, he "turned his back so he could not see the robbers at work," acting as if "the trusts had become good, the octopus had turned angel, the monster had become as a little child." Wilson's foreign policy was also misguided, Russell declared in an angry speech in April, a speech with special significance as war loomed in Europe. When Wilson became President he inherited a troubling situation in Mexico. In 1911 General Victoriano Huerta had deposed and murdered Francisco I. Madero, who in turn had overthrown the democratically elected Porfirio Diaz. The Wilson Administration had not recognized Huerta's government, although the United States had a policy of extending de facto recognition to revolutionary governments. Wilson saw Huerta as a military usurper and was revolted by the bloody means he had used. Relations, already tense, were worsened when on April 10 the crew of an American naval vessel was arrested after it docked without permission at Tampico. The crew was quickly released with an apology, but Wilson saw it as an opportunity to move against Huerta and hasten his downfall. He received congressional approval to send troops to Veracruz, where a shipment of ammunition from the Germans was to be received. In a bloody battle on April 22, twenty-six Mexicans and nineteen Americans were killed. The American public was dazed, and Russell was indignant. "I want to love the land wherein I was born," he told an audience on April 27. "And I want to honor the flag that floats over it. But I want that flag to stand for liberty, justice, democracy and the rights of the people." The Mexican intervention, Russell alleged, was made to satisfy the American oil companies and "when a nation should turn international bandit and make the streets of an undefended city run with blood, then the flag of that nation is nothing but a filthy rag." After calling Wilson a "jingo," Russell added, "If I should be drafted I would refuse to serve." Of course, this was an almost comical threat since as a fifty-four-year-old with a number of health problems, Russell was hardly a prime candidate to fight a war. Moreover, his claim that the oil interests were behind the intervention was off base. The oil companies actually wanted Wilson to recognize Huerta because he represented a stable market. More important, however, was Russell's intimation that he would not adhere to what was long the socialists' adamant position against all wars. A just war—that Russell could support.
On July 28, 1914, after a busy year working on three books, various magazine articles, and touring on the Chautauqua and Socialist lecture circuits, Charles and Theresa set sail from Hoboken, New Jersey, for Rotterdam in the Netherlands, marking his twelfth visit to Holland. Russell was to be a delegate at the International Socialist Congress to be held in Brussels on August 22, the first such conference since 1907; when it was over he would get some needed rest and relaxation. But on June 28 Archduke Francis Ferdinand, heir to the Austria-Hungary throne, was killed in Sarajevo, and war clouds began rumbling over Europe. Despite the widespread belief that enlightened countries and modern governments would not go to war, Russell believed otherwise. In fact, the previous fall, when he returned from Europe, he had tried to convince editors to allow him to write magazine articles about a coming war in Europe. "They laughed me to scorn," he later recalled. "It was my only chance to appear as a prophet and I muffed it."
As he sat in his cabin on the trip to Europe, Russell began to harken back to all the years he had visited Germany and to how much he had grown to admire the Germans. "I know them well, esteem their good traits, like to visit their country," he later wrote. But for as long as he could recollect, Germany had "thought war, dreamed war, sung war, dined upon war, lived with and clove to the image of war." He remembered sitting near the Rhine River in 1898, watching the German army march by. "What a sight," he recalled. Miles of marching men, like machines, in step, identical motion, no deviation, no weakness, perfect coordination. "Nothing missing," he said, "except a black cloud of smoke ahead for a conquered town." A year later in Heidelberg, on a perfect Sunday, he watched civilians cower as army officers passed. The following year he watched the cowering of the soldiers themselves as they deferred meekly to their own officers. Once in 1902, while at the baths in Carlsbad, he observed an officer knock over three old women and never even stop to help them recover.
As early as 1906, when he returned from his worldwide trip, Russell had warned publicly about the "Germanizing of the world." He wrote in Cosmopolitan about a "new gothic invasion" by a "persistent, tireless, indefatigable" German nation seeking to spread its commercial tentacles. He hinted that it was eyeing both of its small neighbors, Netherlands and Belgium, spurred by a government that was "urging, encouraging, advising, pushing." The only question was when Germany would make its move, Russell warned. "To study, to wait and at the right moment to move with intelligence and gathered resources," that is Germany's plan. Only socialism, which preached that "dominion and aggrandizement are not the chief end of man," could stop the Germans. Or so he believed in 1906.
As his steamship approached Europe, Russell recalled other ominous signs; how in 1908, he entered a restaurant only to be confronted with a sign: "Jews not allowed." It was not clear if his wife, Theresa Hirschl, who was Jewish, was with him. He then went over in his mind what he had seen on a small South Seas island on visits in 1905 and 1911 when the Germans had taken over the island. The natives, once happy and smiling, no longer danced and were presided over by military officers with guns. What was once one of the happiest spots on earth, he thought, is now "one of the most wretched and sorrowful."
As Russell's ship approached Europe, it was boarded by a French naval vessel, which he knew was very unusual. The French intimated that war was at hand, which was no surprise to Russell. The previous year, while he was on holiday in Carlsbad, he noted how "the air was tense, nervous, and charged with electric expectation. I had never seen the like there. All the talk was about the war." Pan-Germanic literature was everywhere, urging the creation of a German empire. "The thing that had been surmised about and dreaded for thirty years was about to burst upon us," he knew. On August 3, days before he landed, news came over the wireless radio that war between France and Germany had been declared. Germany had invaded tiny Belgium, just south of the Netherlands. Russell asked in his diary, which he began to keep on regular basis: "Will there be any France when all this is done? Never thought before of a world without France." He worried most about the "terrible, unequaled, unapproached German war machine." As passengers listened to the news on August 5 that England had declared war on Germany, a Wall Street financier on board commented that the United States would never allow England and France to be crushed. "I wonder," Russell wrote. On August 7, France invaded Alsace Lorraine. A day later Wilson declared American neutrality in the conflict, prompting Russell to ponder how anyone would remain neutral in this war. "Only neutrals are in the cemetery. For the living it's one side or the other," he observed in his diary. But what side to take? That was the momentous question that Russell was about to face. The Socialist Party had consistently opposed war for many years as the product of competition, capitalism, and imperialism. All wars were fought for markets, and nothing else. Workers had no stake in fighting wars, and they should always oppose them at all costs. Every war was a rich man's war, but a poor man's fight, wrote Socialist Oscar Ameringer, who along with Meyer London, Emil Seidel, Victor Berger, and Morris Hillquit, were to attend the international congress with Russell. You could not belong to the Socialist Party and support the capitalists' wars. In 1914, at least, Russell embraced the Socialist position that the search for "commercial supremacy" was always the cause of war which is "only competition carried to its logical limits."
Such a simplistic position, however, left out the possibility that nationalism, old rivalries over borders, and oppressed ethnic minorities were as important in Europe as economics. But for now Russell adhered to the party line. Russell got off his steamer and he was hit square in the face with the first chaos of what he called "the insane war dance... the lunatic business of war." Because of the fighting, the socialist congress was postponed. More devastating were the first reports of those fleeing Belgium. Russell must have thought back to arriving at the Johnstown flood when he was told he would not believe what he would soon see. Except this would be much worse. By the end of the first year of the war two million were dead. In the face of such devastation, could he and should he remain neutral?
When the Russells' hotel room proved too expensive, they looked for another and saw signs of chaos everywhere. "I have not known a tenser atmosphere," Russell said. Thinking they were British, some restaurants would not take his money and waiters would not serve the Russells. The Dutch still resented the Brits for their part in the Boer War, and many seemed to support Germany, a stance that would fade, of course, when Germany overran the Netherlands. One man, whom Russell did not know, approached him and declared that the result of the war would be socialism throughout Europe. Russell suspected he was a spy, a suspicion that proved true. Once, while looking in the window of a store, a man sidled up to Russell, saying he was an American who had German parents. He wanted to get back home, he said in an accent that Russell felt could only have been learned in a German gymnasium. Russell listened and then asked, "Where did you live in the United States?" The man replied, "In Wisconsin." And where, Russell asked, is Wisconsin? "It's in Milwaukee," the man replied. Russell wished him good morning and went on, knowing he had just had a conversation with a German spy probably trying to find what he could from the famous American socialist.
Russell found the Dutch resolute in the face of the war reports. There was no sensationalism in the press, no panic in the streets, no harsh words, but people were tense, grave, and hushed as they went about their business. Sympathy began to turn against Germany as Belgians began arriving after having walked miles lugging suitcases. Many told horror stories. One woman, a famous opera singer, whom Russell did not name, told of being detained with her husband, strip searched four times, and paraded in front of German officers. "All Europe is crazy... mad as a hatter," Russell concluded. When he learned that hundreds of refugees were besieging the American embassy in the Hague and seeking help, Russell went there and offered aid to the ambassador, Henry Van Dyke. But Van Dyke saw Russell as a "detested socialist," as Russell put it, and declined his offer. A few days later, Theresa visited the embassy and convinced the Ambassador that she and Charles were respectable citizens whose volunteer work could help the overwhelmed embassy. He accepted her offer and Russell, with Corona cigar in hand, reported for work the next day at what he called "the switchboard of Europe." It was the beginning of his career as an "amateur diplomat."
Since Russell could read Dutch, he took over the task of translating dozens of telegrams and letters at the embassy from those seeking to find relatives and friends in France, Germany, and England. Two Wall Street lawyers and Van Dyke's son also had volunteered; all were kept busy with a steady stream of exasperated Dutch, French, English, and American citizens. Many fleeing Belgium had no clothing, others were without money while some simply had lost relatives and spouses. After about two weeks, reports of the Germans abusing noncombatants began to wane. Russell believed that the Germans, acutely aware of public opinion, had made clear to their troops that they needed to behave better. The Germans even began to inquire if they could compensate victims. "Somebody in the mad dance of nations had experienced a lucid interval," he observed. "They may be mad in Berlin but they are not stupid," he wrote in his diary. But Van Dyke, privy to more information than Russell, was privately warning President Wilson that Germany was "waging this war with a purpose of making Terror her ally." The war, as he was learning from eyewitnesses, "has been marked by great atrocities." Meanwhile, in the embassy, the Germans were trying to cull information with their spies. Late in August a man came to Russell's desk to inquire about his daughter who he believed was near the border. As he sobbed on Russell's shoulder, he inquired about the border situation. Van Dyke signaled Russell that the man was a known spy. "I got rid of him as soon as I could," Russell said. "It was a clumsy performance."
Russell tried to go about his life normally, but when he visited the coastal resort town of Schnevigan, which usually bustled, he found it deserted. He noted, "Never have I seen anything more melancholy." Once he was inexplicably detained while on a train, but was released shortly after. "There is no sense to a hundred things we see about us," he remarked. A few days later the conservative New York newspaper and magazine publisher Frank Munsey visited Russell, one of a steady stream of journalism luminaries who would stop by to see him in Europe during the war years. Meanwhile, Russell's publisher, Kerr, was pressing him to submit his final manuscript on Wendell Phillips. His diplomatic work had put him behind schedule. Russell knew that he would have to travel to England to do library work to finish research and writing. He began reluctantly to plan his exit. His diary entry on September 3 noted: "Not very happy to go because work has been interesting and was glad to feel myself of some slight use." A few days later: "It has been a really inspiring time. And odd thing is that while we worked for nothing, we worked hard." In his autobiography years later he elaborated, writing: "Every emergency proves that men will do for service that they will never do for hire.... The greatest of all incentives is... merely the joy of being of use."
III. "IS THERE NOTHING TO STOP THEM?"
In England, Russell worked mornings at the British Museum but spent the rest of the day observing how the Brits were responding to war. What he saw led only to "drooping spirits." The Brits' "extraordinary lack of interest in the war" and downright hostility led him to quip, "goodnight to the Empire." Even as the body counts mounted, he found the English bored. Worse were the British troops—"dwarfs and scarecrows," he called them, a conclusion he reached on September 10 as he watched the Prince of Wales lead a group of soldiers on a public march. "The Prince!" someone yelled as the crowd cast reverential looks at a white-haired, smallish man who walked with a limp from blistered feet and looked about fifteen years old. With his cap falling awkwardly over his ears and his rifle causing his shoulders to slump, he appeared to Russell "highly grotesque and unprincely." The Prince was a "most uninspiring figure," Russell concluded, but, unfortunately, he was a man who typified the British troops.
Russell was not only glum but increasingly bewildered by the war. Walking in an English garden on September 14, he observed: "Crazy is this race to fight when it might grow flowers." On September 25 he celebrated his fifty-fourth birthday quietly by drinking a bottle of Australian burgundy. A few days later, as the Germans pushed further into Belgium, Russell's concern mounted. "Is there nothing to stop them?" he asked. "I was never able to believe that the world was destined to slip back into the autocratic theory of government and civilization after all these centuries of sacrifices and martyrs, but I am beginning to think so now."
By late September Russell was ready to head back to the United States with Theresa, but not before he stirred a bit more of controversy. While publicly he adhered to the Socialists' antiwar stance, privately he showed very mixed feelings. On the one hand, he said, "if we don't like war why don't we abolish the thing that makes war"—that is, capitalism. On the other hand, he would not endorse America's neutrality. "When war is forced upon us by an enemy whose principles are absolutely false to liberty and the hope of democracy... then we must fight," he wrote in his diary, a harbinger of things to come. Russell shared these private thoughts about the need to support war against Germany with British Socialist Henry M. Hyndman, who also favored the war. He wrote Hyndman a long letter, which, to Russell's surprise, Hyndman sent to the London Telegraph for publication. When the letter made its way back to the States, the comments caused great consternation among the American Socialists. "What a nine weeks," Russell commented as he prepared to set sail, return home and to run, once again, as a Socialist candidate for elected office, this time for the U.S. Senate from New York.
Russell's run for the Senate in 1914 was hardly a run at all. No one—including candidate Russell—paid it much attention. The mass rallies and throngs of adoring crowds that marked his previous efforts never materialized. The New York Times, which had been so respectful in past elections, hardly mentioned him. Even the New York Call, the Socialists' daily newspaper, made no reference to Russell's campaign. And when he did campaign, Russell was more likely to talk about the war in Europe than New York issues or his opponents, Republican James W. Wadsworth, Jr. and Democrat James W. Gerard, the U.S. ambassador to Germany. There are a number of explanations for this. First was the obvious fact that war in Europe had begun to dominate Russell's thinking and that of America, although it was ostensibly neutral. Russell left Europe reluctantly, unhappy that he had to return for another losing effort in a political campaign; his heart was still in the American embassy in Holland. Second, by most accounts, Socialism's heyday had passed. Russell would not admit this, nor would the party's hierarchy, but nearly a decade of exposés and the resulting Progressive reforms had taken some of the wind out of the Socialist sails. Perhaps he had also tired of losing and seeing few gains among the socialists. Russell was also beginning to chafe at the rigidity and inflexibility of the socialists on many issues but especially on the war. His letter in the London Telegraph eroded some of his support in New York. His public pronouncements that Germany's brutal "savagery" in prosecuting the early parts of the war and his criticism of the kaiser likely lost him German American votes, a key part of the Socialist constituency in New York City. Russell also split with the party on tactics; he wanted to blame the war on capitalism's lust for profit and markets, but he also wanted to especially criticize German behavior as beyond excuse. The party told Russell not to do this, and he went along—for a while. In mid-October, at the biggest rally of the campaign at New York City's Carnegie Hall, Russell blamed the war in Europe on "the system" that was "more powerful than kings or Kaisers." The search for foreign markets, he declared, had driven both Germany and England to war. The only solution to war was Socialism—"the taking over [of] producing machinery for the benefit of the people."
Russell did take a few effective jabs at his opponents, especially Gerard who he claimed was callous and inept in his handling of the problems of Americans trapped in Europe at the start of war. He said Gerard's work compared unfavorably with his own in Holland. More biting was Russell's allegation that Gerard's appointment at ambassador was his reward for a $115,000 campaign contribution to the Democratic Party. Publicly at least the Socialists were hopeful of making gains, predicting that they would win 20,000 more votes than Russell had garnered in the governor's race two years earlier. The 1914 Senate race was also the first time that the people could actually directly vote for the Senate seat, thanks to the Seventeenth Amendment to the Constitution. Ironically, it was Russell's best friend, David Graham Phillips, whose 1906 articles had so powerfully made the argument for direct elections that was finally adopted in 1913. But the people did not choose Russell or Socialism. In fact, he received slightly fewer votes—a total of 55,266—than he had in running for governor. Wadsworth squeaked out victory over Gerard while the Progressive Party candidate received about 1,000 more votes than Russell did. It was Russell's last try at political office, although he probably did not know that in 1914. His name was still mentioned frequently as the likely nominee of the Socialists for the presidency in 1916, mostly because Eugene V. Debs had said he would not run again. War in Europe and Russell's emerging position on the war would intervene, however, and lead to a fractious and bitter fight between Russell and the political party that had not too long ago made him feel as if he had finally found a home. Now, as he had done throughout his life—leaving friendly Davenport for bigger Midwestern cities, leaving the Midwest to confront New York, leaving both Pulitzer and Hearst for the challenges of muckraking; and leaving muckraking to embrace the religion of Socialism—Russell prepared to break again with the comforts of his Socialist Party home.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
AT WAR WITH HIS PARTY—AND GERMANY
I. WAR, LUNATICS, AND DEGENERATES
WHILE PLAYING AMATEUR DIPLOMAT in Holland in 1914, Charles Edward Russell, the inveterate tourist, traveler, and reporter, one day slipped across the border into the small Belgium town of Herve, a quaint, picturesque village of crooked streets and queer old houses. Nearby fields were green with beets and yellow with wheat, as in a Millet painting. Three weeks later Russell returned to the village after the Germans had invaded. Nearly all of the town's 500 houses had been destroyed; most of the inhabitants were dead. He found one elderly couple, insane, "mumbling and muttering" as they overturned dead bodies. The wheat fields were strewn with severed heads, arms, and legs. He saw three heads split open by sabers, the brains splattered about. A stream ran red with blood. Russell described the stench as "intolerable," far worse than he had encountered in the tenements of Trinity Church. "Atrocity is as much a part of war as bullets," Russell knew, but the German atrocities seemed by far worse than anything the Allies had done. If only Woodrow Wilson, who was adamant about maintaining strict American neutrality in the European conflict, would listen and allow America to enter the war.
Americans were dumbfounded by and unprepared for the war in Europe. For more than a decade, reform of the economy and politics and the drive for social justice had taken center stage. Progressives, including Wilson, were bent on perfecting the world, and many of the most important reforms of the era were close to fruition. War could not be allowed to undermine the forward movement. Consequently, European politics barely registered for Americans, who knew little of the issues that had so roiled the continent. Wilson agreed with Progressives and Socialists on the war's causes and on the need to remain neutral, at least at war's outset. The nationalism of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Russia's need for access to the Mediterranean, France's desire to recover Alsace Lorraine, Germany's challenge to Britain's naval and commercial supremacy, and the imperialistic rivalries of early twentieth century all contributed to the outbreak of war. But Wilson, who abhorred using violence to achieve national objectives, felt that going to war would favor only the financiers and industrialists. America must follow a strict policy of neutrality, he insisted. Since all sides shared in the blame, Wilson told his advisers that he would listen to no stories of atrocity, German or otherwise.
The German misdeeds that Russell had learned about in Holland, however, were not the only or even the most important factors that influenced his views on the war. In a series of articles in Pearson's magazine in the winter and spring of 1915, Russell laid out the themes that dominated his war thinking for the next four years, led to a public feud with the Socialist party, and killed his chances of becoming the Socialist Party's presidential nominee for 1916. Two overarching issues were inextricably linked for Russell—capitalism and democracy. The "ultimate origin of the war," Russell declared in January, is "commercialism and the competitive system." In February he repeated: "That system was the final cause and origin of this war. It has been the cause of all other modern wars." Privately he insisted that "this war results from the competitive system and will be followed by other wars still worse unless that system is abolished." Many years later in his autobiography, he reiterated, "The last and worst of the war culprits was and is and always will be Capitalism." Russell conceded that nationalism—"almost the strongest impulse among men"—helped bring about war. But even this "strange, subtle, irrational, bone-bred and atavistic loyalty" was stirred by commercialism which, Russell argued, "keeps alive the instincts of the jungle" and "creates a situation in which good men, sincere men, men that hate war, are nevertheless convinced that... war is justifiable." Russell's public views echoed the sentiments of Socialists. Fellow New Yorker Morris Hillquit, the party's dominant theorist and tactician, summed up the party's doctrine: "The basic cause [of war] is capitalism... [a] modern Frankenstein which is destroying its own creators."
Explaining the cause of war actually came quite easily to Russell: he had been warning about commercialism's effect for years on the Chautauqua circuit in his speech about the "unconsumed surplus," a concept that bewildered his audiences. Britain and Germany have gone to war because they are trying to sell their excess goods in the same markets. As Victor Berger, soon to become Russell's archenemy, put it, "Modern wars are between rival nations for commercial supremacy." The "ruthless struggle for markets," added Russell, "that is the reason why we had this war." In short, imperialism was the cause. Again, Russell and the Socialists were quite in agreement, although this position was hardly radical. Even Progressives condemned imperialism. But privately Russell disagreed with the Socialists, telling Carl Thompson, the secretary of the party's executive committee, that its pacifist suggestions—disarmament, courts of arbitration, international police—were "foolish" and "wasted effort." Treaties and agreements were useless, given the competition for markets. "The first work before civilization is to restore a basis of faith upon which civilization may proceed," he wrote. And increasingly for Russell that meant stopping the Germans' march.
Where Russell began to split publicly with his comrades, however, was over what he saw as a secondary—and perhaps equally important—issue. The rulers of England and Germany, King Edward and Kaiser Wilhelm, who were chosen by no one, had made true democracy impossible. "So long as we have the ridiculous and pestilent survival of the Middle Ages that we call monarchies we shall have great wars," Russell observed. If the people could choose, they would not choose war. But the ruling monarchs represent "a denial of democracy, a peril to popular government, a drag upon the footsteps of civilization, and a well-spring of war." Moreover, he said, because royalty needs to keep the line of descent intact, it tends to resort to intermarriage. The result: "some of the crowned heads of Europe are now in mad houses, others ought to be." God help the nations of Europe who have committed their destinies to this race of "lunatics and degenerates." Russell's nasty allegations won him no fans in England, as he would soon find out, or among the many German-born American Socialists, like the Austrian-born Berger, who once told a Russell friend that he hated the kaiser but "when I see the world taking arms against him I feel that I must seize a rifle and take my place in the ranks and fight for him." Russell's words stung Berger and his ilk. But they put him more in line with the view of most Progressives who, as Lincoln Steffens commented, believed that the war in Europe was "the product of an inegalitarian and undemocratic social order." Russell was equally critical, however, about his own country, which he said was no more a democracy than England or Germany. In America "rich men practically rule"; the kings are the capitalists. "In subtle, secret, unrevealed ways... wealth gets what it wants," he explained, a theme he had been repeating for a decade. The King, the Kaiser, Carnegie—all were "archaic, monarchial and disastrous." Only France won Russell's admiration as a true republican democracy and a threat to the European aristocracy. "She is fighting democracy's battle," he wrote.
Eventually, Russell's passion for democracy led him to worry less about commercialism and more about German authoritarianism. Even in the spring of 1915, when hardly anyone, let alone a socialist, was arguing for American entry into the war, Russell edged toward a stance of preparedness, the first step to war. "It is time we should come out of our trance," he wrote in Pearson's in January. "If you are determined to keep the cause of war, then prepare for the war that impends." In February, he urged that the government take over all munitions making, writing: "Preparedness never prevents war; it causes war. But if we are going to be forced to prepare for war, let's do it ourselves, without profit to any private owners." Was this a criticism of capitalism or a call for America to take up arms? Russell was not clear; Woodrow Wilson was. The president still called for absolute American neutrality even though the Germans had begun attacks on unarmed merchant ships. Despite this clear German threat, Russell decided in April to return to the war front. With Theresa, who was to attend a women's conference on socialism in the Hague, and her mother, Charlotte Hirschl, he boarded the steamship S. S. Lusitania headed for Liverpool, England. Speaking to reporters at the dock in New York, Russell denied reports that he was going to investigate how prisoners of war were being treated. His mission: to research and write articles on how European countries would pay off the tremendous debt they were piling up.
II. "A TERRIBLE PALL ON EVERYTHING"
The Russells never had an Atlantic voyage quite like the one of April 1915. The luxurious Lusitania, especially popular with the rich, was the largest passenger liner afloat. However, ever since February, when the Germans had declared the waters around England as war territory, passengers had stayed away from such cross-Atlantic ocean liners. Even advertisements for the Cunard-owned British ship told potential passengers of the threat from submarines. No wonder the Russells were able to get a cabin he called a "peach." Despite the superb accommodations, the trip was harrowing. "If a sub wants to hit this ship it will," the captain told Russell, adding grimly, "It was a chance but all war was a chance." Joining Russell on board was seventy-four-year-old Richard Croker, who throughout the 1890s was the "boss" of Tammany Hall, the Democratic political machine in Manhattan. As a reporter Russell had dealt regularly with Croker, whom people on board clamored to see. "I expect to see a mob batten down with a fire axe the door to the Croker rooms," Russell wrote in his diary. Once, while strolling the deck, passengers excitedly pointed at Russell and Theresa, mistaking them for Croker and his new bride. Mostly, however, those aboard were more interested in keeping watch for German submarines. "We kept scanning the surface for a periscope," Russell recalled. To avoid being detected, the liner's lights were covered with blankets. "It was gruesome business, there is no doubt about that." During one dinner a cabin door loudly blew open and seven hundred people began screaming, all their faces turning pale. "I hadn't before had the sensation of sitting moment after moment expecting to be blown up," Russell confided. One evening during a concert the tension overcame Russell as the music moved him to tears. "I was crying and had clearly forgotten where I was," he said. On April 10, the crew and passengers spotted Liverpool. Russell observed, "I don't know that I ever felt such a grand and glorious feeling. It was as if every nerve had been stretched and painful for many hours. I breathed again and felt that life was good."
Before debarking the next day, Russell exchanged pleasantries with Croker, but as soon as he touched British soil a Scotland Yard detective pointed to him and said, "They're Socialists." Moments later a man with a bleeding finger asked Russell to help him with a bandage but then used the opportunity to ask questions about where he was going and why. Russell suspected he was a British spy. "Watched all the time," he noted in his diary. "When war comes at the door wisdom flies out the window." Russell set out to investigate the debt question, but he was more interested in how unprepared the Brits seemed. The terrible conditions of the tenement dwellers had caught up with them, he concluded. The French, reared on farms and outdoor life, were better able to field a vigorous fighting force. The Germans, nurturing their men for years just for the purpose of war, were fearsome. But the typical English soldier had pipe-stem arms, a hollow chest, pasty face, blotchy skin, and a feeble mind. Often he was drunk, but if you lived in England's slums, Russell commented, "you would go out and get soused... and so should I." Visiting a London friend, Russell learned that 250,000 British women were pregnant with illegitimate children, the fathers off to war. "War is insanity," he concluded."
Early in May Russell met for three days with British socialist Henry M. Hyndman, a staunch supporter of the war despite his socialist credentials. The sixty-four-year-old strongly influenced Russell, who left the meetings bleak about the prospects for an Allied victory. "I don't see where the Allies have a chance," he wrote in his diary. A German victory would mean "the end of everything." But "that is what we shall have and no human being or people can make Americans see this." Three days later Russell left to see if conditions were better in France. Paris shocked him. As he walked down the Rue de Rivoli on a Sunday, the streets were silent. Five women out of seven—grieving widows and mothers—wore black. The cafes were largely empty. A "terrible pall on everything," Russell noted, "all so sharply contrasted with the Paris I used to know." But "it was the look on the faces that got me most," he found. He sat on a curb and cried like a baby, making "a ridiculous exhibition of myself. The gayest city in Europe has become the Place of Tears.... grim and hideous." The news got worse the next day when he read that the Lusitania had been torpedoed by the Germans, killing 1,198 people, including 124 Americans. Russell's life had been spared by days. "The Germans must be insane," he thought, using the submarine "like a monstrous mad devil fish, sinking indiscriminately friend and foe." He thought of his steward, Wilson. "How can it help Germany that this quiet little man is killed?" When reporters asked him for a statement, he said, simply, it would now be difficult for the United States to maintain both neutrality and self-respect.
Russell's views on the war crystallized as he visited Italy before returning to Britain to sail home in April 1915. A friend told him that the Brits were unenthusiastic about war because the Socialists—"Writers like you," Russell was told—had poisoned the debate. Russell scoffed at that idea. He blamed the British press and the government's inability to enunciate clearly what was at stake: "The war is not a struggle between nations but between ideas." It was democracy—"the hope and the weapon of the working class"—on one side and "the autocratic idea" on the other. Someone needed to tell the people, Russell reasoned, and he prepared to head back to America with a new mission in mind. If France and England go down to defeat, "democracy around the world suffers its deadliest blow."
Russell arrived home to learn that his 1910 book, Why I am A Socialist, had gone into a second printing, perhaps in anticipation of his receiving the Socialist Party presidential nomination, which was expected in 1916. The book stuck nicely to the Socialist line that war was nothing more than "competition in its final form," but his chapter opposing the making of armaments clashed with his evolving war views. He now believed that America needed those weapons to prepare for war. He learned also when he returned that the president now agreed with him; the sinking of the Lusitania had forced Wilson to reevaluate the American position. The nation would trade more extensively with the Allies, prepare to defend itself, and also seek to end the conflict with mediation. For his part Russell went back on the Chautauqua lecture circuit again, this time ending up in the Northwest—and unexpectedly finding a new cause.
As a young farmer drove Russell by automobile from one North Dakota town to the next, he saw a farming landscape in disarray: fields turned to weeds, barns in disrepair, houses abandoned. One in every five farms was idle as banks foreclosed with regularity. "If they keep on, they'll own them all," Russell was told. "Hardly on the East Side of New York had I seem anything so depressing," Russell observed. Paris might be the place of tears, but North Dakota was "the Land of Broken Lives." After lecturing one night, a man who Russell did not know, A. C. Townley, offered to drive him to his next engagement. Townley was a thirty-five-year-old refugee from the Socialist Party who feared for the future of the state's farmers and had ideas on how they could be saved. "Long automobile rides have no charms for this old traveler," said the fifty-five-year-old Russell, but "I was so curious to know why he thought another movement was better than Socialism that I agreed." Russell heard from Townley a tale he had been hearing for more than thirty years: the banks, railroads, storage houses, legislators all had the farmers at their mercy. Townley's solution was a novel one: no third party, like Populism or Socialism, just a nonpartisan alliance of farmers and voters using an aggressive campaign of publicity. The agenda: elect the most qualified candidates who supported a combination of reformist measures—strict regulation of fraud and freight rates and state insurance for weather-related crop damage—along with more radical solutions such as state ownership of flour and grain mills. In essence, Townley wanted to combine a socialist and a progressive agenda, one similar to what Russell had been pursing for a decade. Townley asked Russell to help with the publicity for what Townley called the Nonpartisan League. Surprisingly, he agreed. "As soon as I was done with the horrors of Chautauqua for that season," Russell said, "I railed back to North Dakota" to start a newspaper.
Why would Russell—so focused on the war in Europe, steadily writing articles for Pearson's magazine, with a presidential nomination beckoning and a reputation as one of America's foremost journalists—agree to start a newspaper for a group with little resources and no public recognition? Answer: Russell loved a fight, loved a challenge, was excited by the prospects of a new radical-progressive agenda, and his heart broke when he saw the farm families of North Dakota. He was still angry with the businessmen who took advantage of the farmers. He wrote: "They lived in beautiful houses in the choicest regions. They went to church and prayed on Sunday and the next day donned the black mask and went upon the road, pistol in hand. Praying on Sunday and preying the rest of the week." Russell grew up with farmers like these in Davenport, Iowa; the farmers' revolt that became Populism—which was a mix of socialism and reform—fascinated him in the 1880s. Just before he met Townley, in fact, Russell had written four articles on farm conditions.
By late summer a group consisting mostly of socialists joined Townley and Russell in an abandoned church in Fargo. They had to enter the building by a plank through a window, but it did not deter their progress in mobilizing and putting out the first edition of the Nonpartisan Leader on September 23, 1915. It was a classic party newspaper: direct news and information about the group while guiding members to action and seeking to combat bitter opposition from banks and large businesses. It had a breezy conversational style, editorials written by Russell, large cartoons, state political news, items from Washington, and foreign news. The first editorial was classic Russell, gruff and folksy. "Well, we're here! Your friends, the enemy, said we wouldn't get here but we did. What's more, we're here to stay." Warned Russell: "Do not believe anything you read about [the Nonpartisan League] unless you read it in your own journal or in journals that you know are absolutely with you." War abroad might be bleak and insane, but Russell was holding on to his optimism and his zeal. Moreover, the league was a truly novel experiment on the American political scene—an organization proclaiming public ownership and regulation as a solution for economic ills. And it soon became an effective vehicle for change and a potent force in North Dakota, Minnesota, Montana, Idaho, Wisconsin, and Colorado. Russell was neither the brains of nor the brawn behind the league, but his publicity work in the first three months of the league's existence set a tone and enabled it quickly to become an influential player in farm politics. It's not clear if he quite understood that he was tacitly embracing reform again as a partial solution to industrialism's ills. In April he had written that "every governmental remedy has been tried and re-tried... and not a condition has changed." Yet only six months later he was promoting the league's amalgam of public ownership and strict regulation. Many years later, he understood the value of the league, writing, "To all persons really believing in the forward march of man, every struggle for his emancipation is an instruction and an inspiration. The name and the shape of the enemy he confronts will change from century to century.... The men of the American Revolution fought it in one shape; the Nonpartisan League confronted it in another." Russell concluded, "Progress is slow, but surely there is something gained."
III. WARNING THE NATION
Russell's next enemy, ironically, became the Socialist Party. In late fall of 1915 the "cooperative commonwealth" comrades splintered over the issue of American preparedness. The break was inevitable. It became public when a columnist for the San Francisco Bulletin, Pauline Jacobsen, an old friend of Russell, interviewed him for a nationally syndicated article. Jacobsen reported that Russell was in San Francisco to recuperate from his war-related travels, but he actually had been back in America for four months. She found that his hair had whitened, his rosy complexion had become sallow, and he was gloomy. Look at this war, he said, "poisoned wells, asphyxiating gas bombs that kill 10,000 at once, shrapnel that sends shells like rain; 'Big Berthas' that with one shell can raze a stone building and bury two hundred men underneath.... barbed wire fences fitted with heavy dynamos so that men charging through... are instantly killed." And for what? In the end, Germany would win this war, he declared: "I can't see anything that will defeat her now." Meanwhile, Americans resembled "an exalted order of mutts who still prate of peace, peace, peace, when there can be no peace now." He added: "We are fatuous lunatics. We won't abolish the cause of war, and we can't do anything to defend ourselves." All that Progressives and Socialists have stood for—democracy, suffrage, social justice, industrial freedom—would be swept away. The interview ended when Russell sighed, went silent, and then muttered: "I think I'd like to go somewhere in the country where I could raise roses—and forget."
Russell did not become a gardener, of course. Instead, he went on the stump to warn the nation about the threat from the German autocracy. In late November he told a Socialist gathering in Philadelphia that democracy was in danger and that America needed to prepare by developing the world's largest militia. "The world has refused to prevent war by abolishing the competition system," he declared, "and now we must fight." Did not this position disqualify him as a member of the party?, he was asked. "If my convictions as to preparedness interfere with my being a Socialist, which I believe they do not, then I will get out of the Socialist Party," he announced. "If Germany wins, good night to Socialism and every progressive cause." Since the speech received widespread publicity, Russell's comrades saw it. Morris Hillquit said immediately that Russell's stance did disqualify him from the presidential nomination. "Mr. Russell's views are not consistent with the ideals of the Socialist movement," he explained. Eugene Debs demurred, saying, "There's no instance in American politics where a man in order to be true to his own conscience deliberately forfeited the nomination for the president of the United States. Such men, however mistaken, are all too rare in the world." The lone Socialist in Congress, Meyer London from New York City, argued that Russell's call for preparedness was "psychological," showing only his fear of Germany's might. The party faithful sided with Hillquit, however, publicly rebuking Russell in late December, saying that the nation, in no danger of being attacked, did not need to prepare for war. Those who wanted war—bankers, ammunition makers, speculators—did so to fatten their own coffers. But Russell scoffed at that notion, calling it a "flight of fancy" without the "slightest evidence." Privately Russell told Upton Sinclair that the party's "blunders" may "wreck its existence." Didn't they understand, he asked, that the world was faced with "an overshadowing autocracy, menacing the surviving democracies of the world"? He added: "I don't know any reason why we should stand about mum and motionless when there is an emergency like this at hand." But Russell was hardly mum. The war of words was on... and the exchanges became only harsher. The party met in May to nominate its candidates for the fall election. With Russell in disrepute because of his pro-preparedness stance, the party turned to Allan Benson, a little-known journalist who had worked in the Midwest. Russell was officially persona non grata. For the first time in six years he was not running for office.
In June Russell headed once more to Europe, this time as a correspondent for the Newspaper Enterprise Association, a subsidiary of Scripps-Howard Newspapers. He hoped to get to the French front where the war was stalemated, but he ran into surprises in both Britain and France. "Feeling here against Americans is most bitter I have ever seen," he wrote on July 1 when he landed in Liverpool. Three days later he was asked to leave his hotel by the proprietors because he was overheard in his room loudly complaining that the $5 million spent each year on the royal family should go for the troops. "Found another good hotel," he wrote. As he left England for Holland, after waiting in line for hours, he was grilled at midnight by Scotland Yard: "You say you want to learn the economic and industrial conditions in Holland. What do you want to learn that for? Who are you going to see?" At 2:00 A.M. his passport was stamped, but he was roused early in the morning to stay on deck in case a submarine should torpedo his ship. "It gives you an uncanny sensation to feel an unseen eye is watching you," he noted. When he reached Holland, more questions were posed. His cigar box was dumped out and searched. He gave a cigar to a searcher. "I was here playing the part of Christian," he quipped. But the French portion of his trip was delayed because Russell was denied permission by the American Embassy to visit the war front, allegedly because he had criticized the president's peace overtures early in 1916. A New York congressman took up Russell's heated complaint that his free speech rights were violated. This was ironic because eventually, when America did enter the war, the government clamped down hard on Socialist publications, but Russell said very little. Nonetheless, Russell went back to England before returning to America and he was interrogated thoroughly again. All these questions, Russell sighed, "because I once wrote an article arguing that that if Great Britain had abolished her slums 20 years ago she would today be in a better position to fight this war." What Russell fails to note, however, and what the British did not know, was that Russell had been an Anglophobe for a decade.
In the second week of August Russell received permission to visit the battlefield at Marne, where the Allies had repulsed a German offensive in July. He saw nothing but crosses where soldiers had died, "a wonderful, sad and moving sight, that vast silent graveyard." A week later he traveled with a correspondent from Collier's magazine to the city of Rheims, which was under fire as he arrived. "It is a terrible sight," he noted. "I have never seen anything more ghastly and horrible." An elderly couple told him that their church was bombed at noon on a Sunday as people left services. They gave him shards of precious stained glass from a cathedral to bring back to America to show its citizens. Next they visited the trenches where soldiers wore gas masks "like fearsome prehistoric animals." The Germans were only three hundred meters away and a soldier—"in the midst of hell"—was playing his flute. Russell climbed out of the trench to a clump of nearby bushes when machine-gun fire broke out. It was "amazing," he commented, "how quickly some humble journalists disappeared." Back in Rheims he watched an old woman harvesting in the fields while bombs dropped about. "The whole business is unreal," he said. Three days later a group of journalists gave a dinner in his honor but the speeches so moved him that he could hardly speak. Seeing the stalemate at the front was horribly depressing, but even more so was the thought that if Germany won "life for a democrat would be intolerable." It was clear to Russell that he must continue trying to alert the nation. Preparing to return home again, he wrote in his diary, his most explicit thoughts on the war: "Nothing on earth can save this situation and rescue democracy but the United States. We shall have to go in and end this war if it is to be ended.... Everything depends upon America, the fate of the world in her hands and there is nobody or influence to arouse her. I think it [America] will wake up too late."
Woodrow Wilson was still not that influence. He ran for his second term in November, a climactic year for progressivism. Louis Brandeis, who believed strongly in the regulation of capital, was appointed to the Supreme Court, federal banks to help struggling farmers were created, and workmen's compensation and child labor laws were also enacted. Almost all the legislation Progressives wanted had been pushed through by Wilson. But he insisted that America would not go to war, that it would continue to attempt mediation and be prepared if war should come. He was a virtual peace candidate. Russell predicted that Wilson would win the election because people gave him credit for keeping the nation out of war. "That means a lot to the inland Americans," he said. Wilson was re-elected but, as his biographer points out, the war led America into "one of the bitterest and most portentous debates in its history."
Russell's fight with the Socialists mirrored the larger national debate. He applauded the pacifists for not wanting war. "Nobody wants war," he said, but "a quarrel has been forced upon us" by the Germans. Socialist Algernon Lee fired back that entry into the war would only hurt the nation's "material and moral interests," and that Socialists were duty-bound to oppose it. Russell answered Lee, saying, "I am not yet convinced that it is impossible for one to be a Socialist and at the same time to be an American. But if it is, I am American." He was even clearer in a letter to a friend from New Jersey. About the Socialists, he said, "they must go their way and I mine. That we should still have the United States of America and that it should still mean an ideal and a faith are infinitely more important than any friendships of mine." Patriotism and democracy demanded that America go to war. "We should be shameful descendants of Valley Forge... if we were indifferent to such a catastrophe," he wrote.
Germany unexpectedly resumed unrestricted submarine warfare on February 1, and soon after, several American ships headed for Britain were sunk. The United States then broke diplomatic relations with Germany. In early March the press revealed a note from German Foreign Minister Arthur Zimmermann to the government of Mexico, proposing a German-Mexican alliance should America enter the war. The public was outraged. War could no longer be resisted. On April 2 Wilson asked Congress for a declaration of war and received one. Russell would get his way. Meanwhile, the socialists were planning a special convention in St. Louis to protest American entry in the war. Behind the scenes, Russell was intensely lobbying like-minded Socialists, including William English Walling, his NAACP co-founder; millionaire James Graham Phelps-Stokes; and Vermont's John Spargo to join him in resisting the party's antiwar stance. A flurry of letters passed between those who would become known as the "pro-war socialists." They were especially indignant that some party leaders were openly supportive of Germany, a sentiment they felt bordered on treason. Stokes, the handsome Yale graduate, urged Russell to make clear that the party "has betrayed the interests of democracy, and that democracy is the sine qua non." Russell agreed fully and composed a formal statement that amounted to the group's final break with the Socialist Party. He hoped to deliver it in dramatic fashion at the St. Louis convention with the dissenting comrades walking out en masse as they resigned.
Russell's basic principle was simple: without democracy, there could not be socialism. "The world is rent with the greatest of all struggles between the opposing principles of democracy and autocracy. The future of the democratic cause everywhere depends upon the issue," he declared. By not opposing Germany, the party was betraying "the interests of the working class." In closing he said, "Between men of these convictions and men that feel their first loyalty is to monarchy and Germany there can be no association." Stokes, however, convinced Russell not to deliver the resignation statement, but to allow Spargo to elicit support for their position: the war needed to be won by the Allies, with civil liberties kept intact, a referendum offered before any draft, full government cooperation with the unions, and state ownership of war industries. But the convention overwhelmingly rejected their views. Russell did not attend because he was busily preparing to undertake a new diplomatic mission at the behest of the Wilson administration. Without Russell's keen sense of publicity to help them, the pro-war socialists—eventually including novelist Upton Sinclair; historian Gustavus Myers; 1916 Presidential candidate Allan L. Benson; author William J. Ghent; and Chester M. Wright, the editor of the New York Call—chose not to resign en masse at the convention. The dissenters thus missed a chance to grab headlines and emphasize their differences with the party. Nonetheless, a considerable flap arose as the resignations of the group became known. Their numbers were few, but since they were well-known intellectuals and writers, the press gave the resignations widespread publicity. Their departure "robbed the Socialists of some of their most eloquent spokesmen, imaginative leaders, and best-known members," observes one historian. Moreover, the party lost some of its respectability since the pro-war sentiments of the defectors underscored the party's seemingly unpatriotic attitude.
On the surface, the split was about a bitter feud between the war's supporters and its detractors. Indeed, the dissenters were angry. When Ghent resigned he wrote Hillquit a letter that ended with: "You are my enemy and I am, Yours." In a speech in Madison, Wisconsin, Russell is reported to have said: "The Socialists who are opposed to the war are dirty traitors [who] should be driven out of the country." And he hurled nasty epithets at Progressive Wisconsin Senator Robert La Follette for his opposition to the war. "I admit that I have been a friend of Robert La Follette in the past, but in this supreme hour I have no brother. I have nothing but the Republic." But the resignations went deeper than the war issue. For Russell, the Socialist Party—not socialism—had outlived its usefulness. The "damned party," he told Sinclair, "is going to hell and let it go... the sooner it got there the better." He wanted a movement with a broadened appeal, one that allowed reform to co-exist with radicalism. This is evident in the report that Spargo presented at the St. Louis conference, urging the party to work more closely with both labor groups and Progressives and to pursue reform goals while still seeking Socialism. In reality, this had been what Russell's journalism had argued for all along—incremental changes that, while they did not get at root causes, made life better. The dogmatic Socialists were, in the end, just too inflexible for Russell. Stokes, Spargo, and Russell began to discuss a new political party, perhaps fashioned along the lines of the Nonpartisan League, but first the war with Germany would have to be won. With his break with the party complete and the war officially declared, Russell made clear to Woodrow Wilson's advisers that he would be willing to help the war effort. The president called shortly thereafter.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
PROPAGANDIST IN RUSSIA
I. IMPLORING THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE
THE TRIPLE ENTENTE WAS AN ODD ALLIANCE. France, a democratic republic, had much in common with America, including a revolutionary beginning. But Great Britain, although a parliamentary democracy, was headed by a monarch who oversaw a striated society that Russell and the Socialists hated. Russia was ruled by the despotic Czar Nicholas, oppressing a people who were poor and fed up, yet fighting nobly on the Eastern Front against their German neighbor and foe. And to be allied with the czar was particularly difficult to reconcile with the Wilsonian slogans about saving the world for democracy. One can only imagine the rejoicing then when, three weeks before the president declared war, the Russian people finally revolted, toppling the czar. No one was more gleeful than Charles Edward Russell, who, always prone to hyperbole, called the first Russian revolution "the greatest event in human history," adding that "the Man with the Hoe had come literally into his own at last." On the very day America entered the war, Wilson sent a message to Russia, welcoming the world's newest democracy and making clear that a fresh political and economic relationship would be welcomed. Moreover, Wilson indicated that it would be vital for Russia to stay with the alliance and keep fighting the Germans. If the new government made peace with Germany—as many pro-German Socialists in America wanted—it would free up two million German soldiers to do battle with the Allies on the Western Front in Europe. The Allies might never recover. Desperately wanting to avoid this, the Wilson administration, at the urging of Secretary of State Robert Lansing and New York businessman Oscar Straus (who had opposed Russell in a mayoral election) began to prepare to send a diplomatic delegation to Russia.
The composition of the mission was politically controversial. Despite being a war president, Wilson was deeply involved in its makeup, saying he wanted "men of large view" and "tested discretion" who are "genuinely enthusiastic for the success of the revolution." His most important decision was naming the head of the commission. He settled on Republican Elihu Root, a former U.S. Senator and Secretary of State under Theodore Roosevelt, who had chosen William Howard Taft over Root as his successor. The seventy-two-year-old Root had made his name as a lawyer for American corporations, representing the likes of Thomas Fortune Ryan and William Whitney, the men Russell so lambasted for their accumulation of "lawless wealth." Six years earlier Russell had called Root "one of the most dangerous men in public life today, a bitter reactionary... a sly foe of democracy." Of course, Russell was not alone in distrusting the choice of Root. A confidante of Roosevelt told the ex-president that "Root in revolutionary Russia was as welcome as the small pox...."
Not even Root wanted the job, however. Russia was a dangerous maelstrom of conflicting political currents, from the moderates then in power to the Leninists lurking in the wings. A Russia expert warned the State Department that Russia "is full idealists, pacifists, socialists & half-baked reformers, who all think that the nation can be saved & made prosperous & happy only through the adoption of their visionary & impracticable schemes." Root knew little about this but was nonetheless wary. He told Taft, "You have no idea how I hate it, but is just like our boys going into the war: there can be no question about doing it."
The rest of the mission's makeup was equally problematic. John R. Mott, a champion of the YMCA, was an innocuous choice because of his philanthropic work. Cyrus H. McCormick, whose International Harvester Company had interests in Russia, New York banker Samuel R. Bertron, and Charles P. Crane, an industrialist with experience in Russia, were chosen to represent business. But who would represent the workers? And would it make sense to appoint a Socialist who might share common ground with the radical elements of the provisional but moderate Russian government? Wilson wanted Samuel Gompers, the powerful leader of the American Federation of Labor, to join the mission, but his fierce anti-socialist views made such an appointment unwise. His vice president, seventy-four-year-old James F. Duncan, equally anti-socialist, was chosen instead.
Initially Wilson opposed the idea of picking a Socialist. But he soon changed his tune, prompting the New York Times to ask, "Socialist Going to Russia?" Probably at the suggestion of Gompers, the president first considered William English Walling, an antiwar Socialist who was also a Russia expert. But Walling was committed to staying in the United States, in part to lead the fight against Morris Hillquit, Victor Berger, and the Socialists whom he considered a threat to the war effort. Lansing focused next on Russell whose ideas, he told Wilson, "are more in accord with what I conceive to be the best suited to influence the Russian socialists." Through an intermediary, Wilson now made the offer to Russell. He immediately accepted and told the president he could travel within forty-eight hours. At fifty-seven years old, Russell was no longer an amateur diplomat, but as "envoy extraordinary" he had become a member of a U.S. delegation that one historian described as "elderly, distinguished, thoroughly Anglo-Saxon Christian and conservative." No wonder the Socialists balked.
Russell had long stopped signing "fraternally yours" in letters to his comrades. In fact, as Wilson pondered his appointment, Russell and Walling were launching broadsides against the Socialists. In public pronouncements, they attacked an international peace conference being planned in Stockholm as "the most dangerous of the Kaiser's plots," insisting that the Germans wanted to use it to pressure Russia to either make a separate peace or force a civil war. All the delegates attending, including the Americans, they insisted, "will be under the influence of Berlin." A cable sent to European Socialist leaders declared: "There is only way to bring the war to an early end. The Kaiser must go." Privately Russell told Secretary of State Lansing that the conference was "sinister," and Lansing agreed that Hillquit was "a natural intriguer" and "utterly unreliable." The Socialists struck back as soon as Russell's appointment was announced. First they asked Russell not to join the mission. Then they insisted that he was one of a "very slight minority" of Socialists who opposed the war. Hillquit accused Russell and Walling of lying. In her magazine Emma Goldman mocked the "ravings" of both Russell and Walling, but said that it should come as no surprise that Russell had become a "conferee of Root." After all, she said, "nothing else could ever be expected from a journalist." A prominent Socialist journal praised Russell "as honest and as square as any man who ever called himself a socialist," but added about the man who was almost the party's presidential candidate, "he never understood socialism." He worked for too many years with publishers and owners to understand the workers truly. Neither Root nor Russell "will be able to find any common ground with the revolutionists." From Russia the novelist Maxim Gorky wondered why Wilson would choose a Socialist who did not truly represent the Socialist Party.
II. "HURRAH AMERICANSKY"
In late spring of 1917 Russia was a confused and boiling cauldron, overrun with political agents and military troops from Britain, France, Japan, Poland, Austria, and, of course, Germany. Common ground did not come easily for anyone, let alone for a group of mostly aging capitalists that totaled seventeen including military and diplomatic attachés. They arrived in Russia on June 3, after encountering stormy seas that left them tired. On the trip over Root and Russell sparred, as was inevitable, when Russell showed Root a telegram he had sent Wilson, expressing his view about the need for a full-scale publicity effort in Russia. "Root did not like it," Russell wrote in his diary, "but he said I was free to follow my own judgment." They discussed the issue of private property and seemed to agree. When not terribly ill from the ocean voyage, they all read books on Russia, had long discussions, and got along well, to Russell's surprise. "American democracy," he called it. "I humbly give thanks that it is still possible." But Russell warned the group to expect a hostile greeting. The Socialists have been sending "false reports" about the mission and they will do us "great harm unless promptly met and denied." Many "Russian Jews from New York" were on their way to make trouble, he said. Anticipating this problem before leaving America, Russell had brought with him letters of reference and praise from the likes of Jewish Daily Forward editor Abraham Cahan, Rose Pastor Stokes (Walling's wife), and Algie M. Simons. The mission faced the problems of agitators almost immediately on landing when a pro-German Socialist Russian just back from America began to harangue them. When a group he was with tried to stop the mission's train, soldiers threatened to shoot them. The mission was hustled out of Vladivistok to a secret location.
Russia became a blur of fascinating and frightful images for Russell and the delegation. At Vladivistok he saw 800,000 tons of freight—munitions, steel, shoes, food—piled high. With the Russian train system in chaos, the freight just sat on the ground, "one of the strangest sights in the world," Russell commented. The mission was then put aboard what had been the czar's private nine-car blue train, a terrible symbolic choice since, at times, the Russians thought that the czar was trying to return to the capitol at Petrograd, causing them to scream at the train. When the train would stop, they did not know if it would be met with violence or people cheering "Hurrah Americansky." Mostly, however, there were cheers. Wearing workman's clothing and holding up both his union and Socialist Party cards, Russell addressed one group at a depot, saying that he represented "the plain people of America... the workers, the radicals, the American socialists" who have "united fervently" because democracy is in "deadly peril of extinction." "We make war that we may have peace," he said. "And our word to you is, Lead on. You know the road. Where the great Russian democracy goes we are proud and glad to go with you." Russell quickly showed himself to be a keen practitioner of public relations—the old clothes, the union cards, the inspiring rhetoric and symbols. At one speech he took off a bright red tie he had purposely chosen and waved it as a symbol of Russia's red flag. San Francisco Bulletin reporter Bessie Beatty accompanied Russell when he made the speech, saying the Russians "listened to his message, but it had no meaning for them." Revolution, not unions, was on their minds. Of course, little did Russell know that holding up the card of the Socialist Party was about to become a fraud. While traveling in Russia his ex-comrades formally expelled him. Before he left America he had been asked to appear before the New York Socialists. The party had a rule that no member could take a government position without its approval. When he refused to appear, they revoked his membership—in absentia. When word came to Russia about the party's action, Russell issued a formal response: "I have not been repudiated by the Socialists of America. It is quite likely that some such action may have been taken by the Germans, pro-Germans, and wild-eyed Kaiserites that constitute a wing of the Socialist party... but these persons are not Americans." In his diary he wrote, angrily, "I was no more obligated to consult them about my course than to consult the Kaiser. So far as I am concerned they could repudiate until they were blue in the face." But the Socialists' actions complicated matters for the mission. Their lone Socialist was no longer considered a Socialist. At a train stop shortly thereafter two socialist city commissioners requested a meeting with Russell, asking how a socialist could support this war. He had a ready response: "I said they didn't disbelieve in war any more than I did nor hate it any more." But "whether the democratic principle should survive or perish" was at stake; all would be lost if the Russians made a separate peace. They left agreeing with him, but not many others would.
Arriving in Petrograd, the mission found silent throngs of people outside the huge bullet-scarred Winter Palace, the main residence of the czars since the 1700s, where the delegation was to be housed. Located on the bank of the Neva River, this Baroque-style palace had 1,786 doors, 1,945 windows, and 1,057 halls and rooms. Russell was escorted to a room with a bathtub that "you could swim in," he quipped. After formal meetings with American Ambassador David R. Francis, Russell huddled at midnight with a reporter he knew from New York, then retired to his room to collect his thoughts. The people thronging the streets bewildered him. "Everywhere we saw public meetings, in the streets, in the squares, in the parks... Orators haranguing them and the great crowds silently listening." He called it "unchained Russia... delighting in its new-found freedom." But he worried: "A voice tells me it is something more... the vast, inexpressive throngs, listening and thinking and gathering power, nobody knows what they may mean." The second Russian revolution was coming. Russell saw it in that first night in Russia, but he was nonetheless optimistic that the mission could succeed in keeping the Russians in the democratic family—and in the war. Just as he had convinced the two socialists, the mission had to convince the Russian people.
The mission's first formal telegram to the United States was pessimistic about its ability to do much good, however. This angered Russell. "Wasted time all morning which is the usual thing," he complained on June 21, adding that "looking pleasant and eating copiously" were the mission's specialties. Russell disliked the formal receptions. "The country is being ruled by its peasants and working man," he noted, "and the ministers to whom we pay so much attention are only bureau chiefs." Just as he had wandered the streets of Lowell, Massachusetts, while covering the Lizzie Borden murders, he wanted to mingle more with the people. When the mission balked at his suggestion for a massive publicity blitz in Russia, he said: "Objections are what to we do best. It seems like the sum total of what we do will be negatives. At a time like this!" Although Russell praised some of Root's speeches, he was worried when at a reception Root urged a group of Americans then in Russia "to teach these people democracy," comparing the Russians to kindergarten children. "Pray God that remark does not get out or our usefulness is done for here," Russell commented.
The mission's usefulness, as Russell began to realize and argue, was in spreading the gospel, "propaganda work," he called, to "arouse the people on the peril to democracy." Just as he had done for a decade as a muckraking journalist, he now felt that progressive publicity could work in soon-to-be Communist Russia. Even Root agreed, telling Lansing in a cable: "We think the people of Russia—particularly the soldiers—are going to decide whether Russia stays in the war, and we have got to get at them in some way." Russell wanted $5 million immediately and $100 million overall for public relations work—films, newspapers, speakers, mailings, leaflets, rallies. The mission asked for $100,000. Russell was so adamant that publicity was needed that he cabled Lansing, asking for permission to stay behind after the mission departed. But no answer came back from the States about either his request or the money.
Meanwhile, of more immediate danger were the agitators assailing the U.S. delegation. Russell witnessed a parade of thousands of people in a Petrograd square. They waved banners proclaiming: "Down With the Ten Capitalist Ministers," "Down With the War for All Countries," and "Bread, Peace and Liberty." One speaker, a hoarse red-faced little man who said he was an American, yelled to one gathering that the Root mission was sent by the capitalists to deceive the Russian people. Later Russell confronted the man. "I asked him how much of an American he was," Russell said. He did not know Milwaukee from Minneapolis, conceding to Russell that he had visited America only briefly many years earlier.
Journalist Rheta Childe Dorr, then in Russia, told Russell that many of the negative stereotypes Russians had of Americans were the work of Lincoln Steffens, who had just traveled the country. He seems to have done "a prodigious amount of mischief," Russell said, but the real villains he believed were the East Side of New York radicals sent by Hillquit to spew their lies. Given the task they faced, Russell was aghast when many of the mission's members agreed to go to Moscow for what amounted to a sightseeing trip at a time when, he noted, "hell is poppin and the world is teetering."
Further complicating matters were the constant rumors that swirled around the mission about violence. So dangerous were conditions that on June 30 the mission was asked to relocate to Finland to avoid possible attacks. "I was not going out of Petrograd," Russell told a resentful Root, even though Russell observed, "tomorrow the city may be drenched in blood." It is difficult to determine if Russell was being brave, careless, or exaggerating the threat. Nonetheless, he and Duncan, along with military attachés, not only stayed but traveled out of Petrograd to a huge old casino to address a large gathering that included Vladimir Lenin, who with the help of Germany had just recently returned from exile. Russell's speech was delayed, however, when he was told that if he made references to the war a riot would ensue. He was asked to avoid such references, but he refused. A second official then said that since he did not represent the U.S. Socialist party, he should not speak at all. Furious, Russell replied: "It would be a cold day when I stood hat in hand at the door of anybody on earth asking permission to speak." If the Council of Workmen, Soldiers, Peasants, and Deputies did not want him to speak, "It could go to hell for me."
Finally, a cabinet minister relented and Russell spoke—mostly about the war. Russell said he was received with enthusiasm, except for "the strange figure of Lenine," who sat still and did not applaud. He later recalled Lenin as a magnetic personality but an "obstinate fanatic" with a "lust for power." A few days later Russell also encountered, by chance, Leon Trotsky, soon to be Lenin's Bolshevik deputy in the communist revolution. He liked Trotsky who he saw as a "dreamy, hotheaded Utopian Jew, bushy haired, sanguine, highly smug, excitable and a gifted talker." Little did he know that Trotsky was writing that Russell was a tool of the Morgan banking interests.
Russell, ever the optimist, believed that the mission was making progress even as he grumbled more about having to meet with "ministers and mummies" when "everything depends upon the plain, hard-fisted, unwashed multitudes." At a speech twenty-five miles outside of Petrograd to six thousand peasants and soldiers, he and Duncan were interrupted with constant applause when they spoke at one in the morning after watching hours of traditional Russian dances and songs. But still no answer from Washington about the publicity money. Russell went to Ambassador Francis, who sent a cable on the spot reiterating the request. Root had also pleaded for the publicity money, insisting that German propaganda "can be prevented only by active and immediate counter attacks by same weapons." On July 5 he had a good meeting to discuss a plan to help Russia's decrepit rail system, his specialty. At another meeting a cabinet minister leaned over and whispered, What do you really think about the chance for democracy to survive in Russia? Russell pointed out the window to a line of people waiting for bread. "They will tolerate it in the summer but come winter they will not," he advised. The next day he asked Root if he could be allowed to stay behind when the mission left. Root bitterly told Russell that the publicity business was now finished; he could not stay; the group would depart in four days. "It was an unsatisfactory session," Russell wrote. The night before the mission's departure, he was melancholy, writing, "I am overwhelmed... that we are going away just as the prospect opens before us of opportunity and power to do good." On July 10 the mission members boarded their train, "a silent crew," Russell observed, "utterly worn out." Obviously forgetting his breakdown just after his first wife died in 1901, Russell added: "I have never been so tired or so depressed."
III. STAINS OF BLOOD EVERYWHERE
Most of the mission members slept as they headed back to Vladivistok, awakening only when a bridge they were to cross was burned down by anti-American agitators. After a thirty-six-hour delay, they had another close call when a building near their train was torched. The mood lightened at one stop as the mission was greeted by cheering crowds. After Russell spoke to a large gathering of soldiers, praising their revolution, one officer threw his arms around him and kissed Russell. By July 22 they were sailing for Seattle. Root wrote to his wife, "We all feel that we have accomplished far more than we dared to hope...." But the reception in Seattle was lukewarm. Root declared that Russia would stay in the war against Germany and remain a democracy, He was wrong on both counts, of course. Russell sounded like a reactionary patriot, declaring: "If a man now says, 'My wages before my country,' or 'My balance sheet before my country,' or 'My class or creed or association before my country,' he is not an American." No one can or should criticize or disagree with the war effort, he insisted. "Talk of peace at this time and arguments against sending our boys to France," he added at a speech in Chicago, "is utter rot." The mission then traveled cross-country to Washington, D.C., to meet the president and deliver its report, the highlight of which was a request for a huge publicity program. The request was sent to George Creel, head of the government's giant war propaganda machine. Feeling the mission was poorly treated, Root concluded many years later that Wilson only wanted a "grandstand play," adding, "When we delivered his message and made our speeches, he was satisfied; that's all he wanted." His criticism may have been unfair. Wilson was immersed in countless details of running a massive war effort. No one in his administration quite understood the dynamics that had been unleashed in Russia, as he was bombarded from all sides with advice. He wrote to Russell some weeks later that, "all sorts of work in Russia now is rendered extremely difficult because no one channel connects with any other." Root, for his part, had a limited view of the mission's goals—and while there he liked to get up late, read books, and see the sights as much as deliver speeches. Moreover, as a corporate patrician he was an unlikely figure to understand the plight of a poor country on the verge of explosion. Root liked only very slow change. The "filth" of the country appalled him, as did the political dynamic at work. Only Russell seemed to make a real effort to mix it up with the "people" of Russia. But he was so obsessed with the propaganda question that his vision too was narrow. His diary contains some acute analysis, but it reads best when he re-creates scenes and people, as befitting the good journalist he always was. The Root mission was off the mark in its prediction that Russia could maintain its new democracy, but nonetheless Lansing concluded that the group was "as capable of judging the situation and giving advice as any this Government could have sent out."
From Washington, Russell headed to New York, where his Socialist comrades had expelled him a few weeks before, to appear before the patriotic Union League. His target was Robert La Follette, the liberal Senator from Wisconsin whom Russell once lauded as "a different species from the rest." Now he attacked La Follette for his opposition to the war, calling him a "disloyal American, a traitor in disguise" who does "the dirty work of the Kaiser."
La Follette's Midwestern isolationism made him vote against American entry, and Russell had heard his words repeated all throughout Russia like "a poisoned dagger plunged toward the heart of your country." Russell was always prone to rhetoric and exaggeration in his writing and speeches, but now he was downright demagogic. In speeches across America he went on the attack, as if obsessed with proving his patriotism over his radicalism. Russell, the man who one Russian observer called "a most interesting and queer soul," had become overwhelmed by the lunacy of war... just like the rest of the world. The muckraker had turned superpatriot.
Aware that his rhetoric was soaring to new heights, Russell defended himself at a giant pro-war rally at New York's Madison Square Garden, explaining his fiery support of the war: "It is not because we have grown any weaker in our advocacy of social reform, social justice and industrial democracy, but because, more than ever, we are committed to those reforms. It is because we see that the very foundation of the cause we represent is in deadly peril." And then he attacked La Follette again, comparing him to traitor Benedict Arnold and declaring: "I admit that I have been a friend of LaFollette in the past, but in this supreme hour I have no friend, I have no brother, I have nothing but the Republic." In fact, Russell's view was a mirror of Progressives and muckraking journalists like Will Irwin, Ray Stannard Baker, Ida Tarbell, and Jane Addams, all of whom moved from assailing the city boss and the large corporation to attacking the Kaiser and German militarism. Russell summed up the issue bluntly in a letter to Upton Sinclair, saying "We are confronted with the destruction of democracy and the domination of the world.... Until that imminent peril is averted there is nothing else worth talking about or thinking about." Over the next three months Russell devoted himself to two things: writing a book about Russia and going on the lecture tour for Creel's Committee for Public Information (CPI). He wanted very much to return to Russia to head up a government publicity program there, lamenting to Creel that the publicity program the Root mission wanted was not implemented. "We knew perfectly well what was needed," he said. "I should have kept on the job until we got what was needed." Creel wanted to send Russell back to Russia but some in government felt he could not be trusted. As a socialist, even a patriotic one, he might propagandize more for socialism than capitalist democracy. Russell the free spirit, the man who poked fun at so many public figures and institutions, was, not surprisingly, just not safe enough to represent the government abroad. But this did not stop Creel from asking him to embark on a lecture tour for the CPI. Creel knew that in Russell he had a well-known national figure who was passionate about the war and who loved the stump. Baker called the touring ex-journalists "the vigilantes."
Russell gave fifty-eight fire-and-brimstone addresses between October and February 1918, one of the 15,000 speakers that the CPI eventually sent out across America working for $10 a day and travel expenses. In Chicago alone during the war years 451 speakers gave 50,000 talks to 25 million people. Russell mostly spoke to labor audiences, addressing particularly large crowds in Cleveland, Des Moines, and New Orleans, where he gave twelve talks. In the South he accompanied visiting French speakers, the Marquis and Marquise de Courtivron and the Marquis and Marquise de Polignac. One observer compared his "forceful presence and dramatic instinct" to the Reverend Billy Sunday. But Russell warned Creel not to book him into churches because "a church is a deadly place for the kind of meetings I want to hold," and in Nashville, Tennessee, some residents complained about his vitriolic attacks on members of Congress. For his part Russell felt that German saboteurs were shadowing him and disrupting his speaking tour. "There is spy work going on," he told Creel. The CPI speakers were extremely successful in rousing Americans to a fever pitch, but it is likely they were also equally responsible for the unprecedented attack on civil liberties that occurred throughout the war years. In reporting on the suppression of more than one hundred radical newspapers, the Times gleefully observed that the antiwar newspapers had caused "such influential men as John Spargo and Charles Edward Russell to withdraw from the Socialist Party." Russell, in fact, was still lambasting the Socialist Party, mocking its "iron-clad regulations" promulgated by "gentlemen with unpronounceable names and a tangled dialect."
Creel was pleased with Russell's speaking tour, telling him, "I hear remarkable comments from everywhere." Russell's reward came in the spring of 1918, as the war entered its final stage, when Creel asked Russell to head up the CPI's publicity office in Great Britain, of all places, the country that Russell had been privately and publicly grumbling about for nearly twenty years. "You are the man of all men for the work in England," he told Russell. With a Russia assignment out of the question, Russell accepted and joined the growing list of former journalists who plunged into the propaganda business. By April 26, with son John accompanying him, Russell was aboard an ocean liner that was zigzagging the Atlantic to avoid German submarines. "In this climate," Russell quipped, "the normal operation of the mind can only be attained with the aid of a reasonable amount of alcoholic stimulation."
Russell's three months in England were notable for three things: his inability to get along with the British and to accomplish much for the propaganda effort; his increasingly irascible attitude toward everything and everyone; and the starkly contrasting images he drew between life's delights and war's horrors. Russell began immediately to scrap with the Brits when they hassled him over his passport papers. "Madness on one side and official arrogance on the other," he commented. When he tried to get favorable news from the CPI placed, he received little cooperation from British newspaper editors, who distrusted him. "Do they think I am a German spy?" he asked. His counterpart in the British war publicity office told Russell that indeed there was "manifest suspicion" of him, but Russell wrote it off to typical "British chilliness and bad manners." His disdain for the English must have been evident.
Before Russell left for England he told Creel that he and Will Irwin, the muckraking journalist who was then overseeing CPI publicity efforts in foreign countries, had found a way to make the Allies share information. The plan did not work in England, however, as he met constant resistance from the press, causing him to be miserable. He complained about everything: English Jews were annoying because they so hated America; Scotland Yard was surely shadowing him and John; German spies undoubtedly had sabotaged one of his luncheon meetings; English youngsters were "lifeless, hopeless." Concluding that he was in an "almost impossible position" to influence the English positively, Russell begged Creel to relieve him from his CPI duties. While he waited for an answer he carefully observed wartime Britain where food was scarce, prompting him to note, "I should think myself fortunate in being a vegetarian if there were any vegetables." Most astounding to Russell were the regular air raids on London. On May 21 Russell and his son were reading in their room when the air raid sirens went off. While the sky lit up in yellow and red with shrapnel from bombs dropping around the house, they gathered downstairs with other boarding house guests to watch the "astounding drama," as Russell called it. When the "all-clear" siren sounded, he concluded, "The human race has gone mad."
Russell's only solace came when he and John took leisurely Sunday boat rides up the Thames. He gazed at the majestic homes lining the river, the flowering spring bushes blooming—"idyllic, beautiful restful delightful... like heaven." How can this exist with "a world gone mad"? he asked. He wired Creel again, asking for relief. Meanwhile, he sought the counsel of H. G. Wells, the fifty-two-year-old science fiction writer who also was an adamant socialist. Despite Wells's high-pitched voice and incessant talking, Russell concluded that he had "never met a shrewder, quicker or more certain mind." When the two discussed why Americans in England so disparaged the United States, Wells noted that whenever he discussed abolishing the monarchy someone quoted to him remarks from Americans about how dismal a failure their republic was. "I don't suppose your countrymen ever think of the harm their loose remarks do to the republican cause in Europe," Wells observed. One can only wonder if he was talking about Russell.
Russell's old friend, the reformer and former mayor of Toledo, Ohio, Brand Whitlock, visited Russell in London. Whitlock, who was America's ambassador to Belgium during the war, was thin and haggard. "He seemed to be contemplating horrors," Russell felt. Two days later Creel finally told Russell he could leave his CPI post and John, then thirty-three years old, could take over. Russell was joyous, packing immediately for Paris where he planned to join a small delegation of Socialists—including old comrades John Spargo and Simons—who were going to tour France and Italy at the behest of the CPI to bolster the morale of labor groups and Socialists. Paris shocked Russell again; almost all the women were in black; most of the men were one-legged or maimed. One day, as bombs rained down on the city, he hustled across a bridge to reach a shelter; moments later, the bridge was destroyed. On August 2, British reporter Herbert Bailey, whom he knew from Russia, took Russell through the countryside for four hours. He was shocked to see villages he had known in 1916 wrecked, replaced by battlefields covered with airplanes, gas canisters, and bodies. At one stop Russell and his comrades cut off buttons from dead German soldiers; Spargo took a bayonet as a souvenir. They all shuddered as they stood over an American soldier who died holding the book Oliver Twist, which he had apparently been reading when he was hit. Returning to Paris, they passed endless lines of soldiers—"one long avenue of war, war, war," Russell wrote in his diary. Back in Paris, Russell met with Alexander Kerensky, the now-deposed Russian leader, and discussed ways of preventing Russia from signing a peace treaty with Germany. Clemenceau, the French prime minister, met with the traveling delegation and then arranged to meet privately the next day with Russell, who told him, "Every man has now two countries—his own and France." But France told the story of the war: "the dark stains of blood were everywhere," Russell said. "I have had enough. The human race has gone insane." Russell prepared to sail home again one more time from war-torn Europe.
EPILOGUE
NEW CAUSES IN THE FINAL YEARS
I. A RETURN TO WRITING
WHEN WORLD WAR I WAS FINALLY OVER, it was difficult for any of the Progressives and pro-war Socialists to be gleeful. More than 100,000 Americans had died; 10 million soldiers lay dead in battlefields stretching from Europe to Asia; another 20 million had been wounded. The economy of Europe was in ruins, and 3.5 million American soldiers now prepared to return to America. Who could predict what was in store for the American economy? Pacifists, Progressives, Socialists, pragmatists, Romantics—all were thoroughly disillusioned by the outcome of war, confirming what many feared: brute impulse, not reason and compassion, still ruled. The triumph of progressivism was not inevitable after all. In March 1918, Russia signed a separate peace treaty with Germany. It was official: the Root mission had failed to persuade the Russians to keep fighting. The agreement was the fruit of long and bitter negotiations with Germany conducted by Leon Trotsky, soon after he and Lenin took power in the Bolshevik Revolution, which occurred only four months after the Root Mission. As Russell commented, Russia "walked six months in freedom and allowed itself to be snared by another autocracy." The treaty forced Russia to make numerous concessions to Germany, but when World War I finally ended in November 1918, many of the concessions were voided. Russell, the superpatriot, got at least part of what he wanted: the Kaiser and autocracy were defeated. Nonetheless, Russell was glum.
The fifty-nine-year-old Russell now had to reconcile the war's results with his eternal optimism about mankind. "A period of general depression" followed the war's end, he conceded, and Russell was shook as he wondered about the cost of victory. "That eleven little children playing at hop-scotch should be blown to pieces, in what way did that help to win the war?" he asked. "That a mother should claw frantically in a heap of ruins to find and clasp the headless corpse of her infant, wherein did that make for triumph?" Even Russell had to concede that "all the decent, kindly instincts in man [were] seemingly gone," revealing him as a "strange, ingenious, crafty, murderous creature, worse than any wild beast." And yet "amidst all the killing and mayhem and bloodshed he rushes into burning buildings to save little children, pulls a life boat through a storm, gives life to save others, endures pain, privation for an altruistic faith." Hope is not lost, he concluded, because "new things were about to come upon the world worth even this price." The glass was still half full for Russell. He still yearned and hoped for what he had been seeking since his conversion to Socialism in 1908: a "democracy of opportunity." Even more, however, the preacher's grandson was hoping still to convince mankind that "the only real happiness on this earth is spiritual and intellectual, that in the pursuit of the material there is literally nothing but ashes and bitterness, vacuity and sorrow." For Russell, "making our fortunes the god of our idolatry, and our business its religion, all this is but sorry employment for the aspiring human soul." The question now for the gray-haired journalist-turned-socialist-turned patriot was what pulpit would he choose to preach from? He was, after all, a man without a political party.
The Social Democratic Federation offered some possibilities as a left-of-center political party that embraced reform and Socialism. In the winter of 1919 Russell and William English Walling, both officers in the party, sailed to Europe to visit Britain and France and to meet with other Socialists in an attempt to sell Woodrow Wilson's "Fourteen Points," including a League of Nations that might prevent more world wars. But the SDF never gained any ground. Russell turned again to what he knew best—writing. In the immediate aftermath of the war he wrote three books in three years on Russia—on his trip there, on the Bolshevik revolution, and on the dangers posed to the world by an authoritarian society, no matter how noble its goal. From the end of World War I to his death in 1941, Russell wrote seventeen books, including one that won the Pulitzer Prize for biography. Russell's books displayed his dual passions—politics and art—as he carefully blended history and biography to both the delight and harsh criticism of reviewers—and the occasional anger of those who he continued to attack.
For the first few years after the end of the World War, Russia obsessed him, especially the brutality he saw in Bolshevism, which would soon become authoritarian communism. Lenin—and the American intellectuals who supported Bolshevism made Russell furious. He said about Bolshevism what he had been saying for years: there is never a justification for using violence to bring about political goals. How could the "intellectual Bolsheviks," who opposed American entry into war on the ground that "peace is a holy thing," now support "cruel and bloodthirsty" Bolshevism? Men and women Russell had met in Russia were facing firing squads soon after Lenin took power. He worried and warned about the spread of Bolshevism in America, writing, "We want no violence in this country, no street fighting, no barricades and no class warfare." And the way to prevent Bolshevik revolution in America, he said, was to keep workers' wages at the high level of wartime and to continue to make progressive social changes. Compulsory high-school education, state-funded university education, stricter child labor laws—these would surely keep the people from turning to Bolshevism. "Men that believe they are fairly and honestly treated do not listen to Bolshevism," he wrote. "Where there is no wrong there is nothing to revenge. The true bulwark against Bolshevism [is] good-will, kindness, equity, the modernizing of industry."
In 1920, Russell published his book on the Nonpartisan League, a further affirmation that he admired a combination of progressive reforms and state-funded cooperative measures to protect workers and farmers. He wrote and said little overtly about bourgeois politics and popular elections, although he raised eyebrows when he came out against using animals for experimentation, arguing that the real cure for disease is the rejection of materialism and the embrace of spiritualism. For the preacher's son, the search for the spirit became a hallmark of his last twenty years of life. "The world has no need of any affirmation of materialism," he said in an anti-vivisection speech. "It has only need of the affirmation of spirituality." After one vivisection debate, a listener told Russell he had "annihilated" his opponent.
II. THE PULITZER PRIZE
The early 1920s were relatively quiet—at least by Russell's standards. "I am glad you are well and IDLE," Hearst editor Arthur Brisbane wrote him. But Russell did publish articles on woman's suffrage and prohibition of alcohol, as well as a highly technical book on railroad regulation, and two others on the prospects of Filipino independence. His interests continued to be widespread. In a flash of insight in 1925, he warned after a summer trip to Carlsbad that Germany should be watched. "Trying it again," he said, was the idea that "most dominates" the imagination of the average German. No one paid much attention, perhaps at least in part because Russell had developed a reputation as a bit of an eccentric. "I'm a crank, you bet, right down to my corns," he told a friend. He told one interviewer that splitting wood and feeding the fire took of most of his time. "I don't do anything interesting; just knock out a few pieces on my old type-writer, and yawp a little," he said. This was mere modesty, however, because Russell was actually beginning not only to research new books but to champion new causes. Irish independence especially interested him because it was "a great cause" and "great spirits enlisted in it," something he first learned as a nineteen-year-old reporter in 1880 when an Irish nationalist spoke in Iowa about seven centuries of struggle with Britain. He regularly visited Ireland during the war. In April 1916 the British crushed an Easter rebellion, executing many rebels. Eamon De Valera, one of the rebels, was spared because he was an American, born in New York City. Exiled from Ireland, De Valera became a friend of Russell, who accompanied him on a U.S. speaking tour. When De Valera returned in 1920 to Ireland, civil war was under way and his political organization, Sinn Fein, was engaged in a widespread guerrilla campaign against British forces. In 1924, Russell visited De Valera, then the head of the Irish Republican troops. He was in hiding. Russell had to be smuggled to meet him, driving from sundown till midnight on a wild journey to a remote location – all this for a man of sixty-four years who was, for all intents and purposes, "retired." The two men talked until daybreak; Russell found De Valera "calm, steady, reasoning, unemotional, iron-nerved," even though he faced death.
When Russell returned to America he went on a speaking tour and lashed out at Britain's intransigence. "They tell me I am a proponent of the gospel of hatred because I step forward and say that Ireland deserves to be free and independent. I am. I hate Great Britain," he told one audience. "I hate it and everything connected with it and the life of it." After years of discreet diary entrances about his distaste for Britain, Russell finally pulled no punches. This was characteristic of his final years when he became blunt, forthright, opinionated, and, for better or worse, downright cranky. He reserved some of his harshest words for Britain, which he labeled "the champion of oppression." England, he declared, "perpetrates swindle in the name of religion and commits murder in the name of Christianity." The British must have heard Russell's voice. In late May 1926, he was enough of a power, enough of a threat to refuse him entry into the country. Officials told him that the Irish Free State, still part of the British Empire, had labeled him an undesirable because of his support of Irish independence. The incident made national headlines. When Russell got to Paris, he told waiting reporters he hoped the ban would be permanent. "The world was full of places I had rather be in," he quipped. But he immediately fired off a letter to Britain's Secretary of State for Home Affairs, refusing to agree not to travel to Ireland. To do so would be "degrading, disgusting and an affront to the nation of which I am a citizen," he wrote. "I am a friend of the Republican movement in Ireland. I am a friend of every Republican movement everywhere in this world. To my mind any other form of government in the Twentieth century is a grotesque absurdity." Hicks replied promptly, saying tartly: "If you are as bellicose in your acts as you appear to be in your correspondence," it is no wonder you were barred from entry. But Hicks insisted the refusal came from the Irish Free State. "What a mess, Charlie," a friend told him. Eventually the matter was taken up in Parliament and son John watched as the House of Commons voted to allow his father to enter the country. "Undesirable" Russell, sixty six, with an aching back and persistent stomach problems, could still enter the eye of the storm.
III. "SLOWLY BUT SURELY WE GO UP"
Beyond politics, however, there were other projects. He was writing two biographies that crowned his lifelong interest in music and art, an interest he had put aside in 1904 when he joined the muckraking movement. In fact, Russell's two most consistent correspondents in the last twenty years of his life were Ernest McGaffey, a poet from California, and Julia Marlowe, the famous actress-expatriate. Russell handled Marlowe's finances up until his death in 1941. She dedicated her 1954 memoirs to him, writing that his "watchful care and regard for my fortunes have perhaps been a more potent influence than that of any one person I have known." In 1926 Russell published what can only be called an authorized biography of Marlowe in which he never reveals their relationship. He wrote not only a glowing story of her life but also a history of the development of theater in America. Like everything else he had ever written, Russell was not objective in this case. He clearly had a conflict of interest, and one publisher rejected the book as too admiring. The book, deservedly perhaps, received mixed reaction. One critic cited "too much adulation, a lack of critical discrimination in discussing her art... some inexcusable errors of fact." Another said it was "too long, and it is not equally interesting in all its parts." But other critics called it careful, well informed and "an excellent survey of one aspect of the progress of the American stage."
The ink was hardly dry on the Marlowe book when Russell brought out his fourth biography, of a lifelong hero, Theodore Thomas (1835–1905), an orchestra conductor who was largely unknown to the American public. When Russell was a youngster, Thomas stayed at the Russell household in Davenport as he toured the country promoting symphonies, then unheard of in rural America. As he popularized the music of the great European masters and planted the seed for local symphony orchestras in cities across America, his route became known as the "Thomas Highway." "If I say that no other man of his period exerted upon mankind an influence so great and lasting, I shall be looked upon as lunatic, although that is what I honestly believe," Russell wrote. Certainly there was little doubt that Thomas deserved acclaim, but Russell's admiration of him related to the beliefs that drove much of his work: if America could more fully embrace the highbrow arts, such as symphony orchestras, "it might change the whole American character; it might scourge us of materialism." The critics were kind to this book, with the New York Times calling it "comprehensive, widely ranging, illuminating, valuable, interesting."
In the end, Russell's comprehensive review of the development of the American orchestra, not offered through the lens of a music critic, made the reading compelling. The following year Russell was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for writing America's best biography. Russell was typically understated about receiving the award. He never mentioned it in the autobiography that he wrote six years later. Others were more impressed. Benjamin Hampton, the editor who published so much of Russell's biting journalism, sent a note. "Trying to get in touch but no luck. But now after the Pulitzer, I assume there is no hope in the world of my ever seeing you," he wrote. "Gosh, there is no way in the world to keep a guy like you down."
Hampton had a point. Russell was a difficult man to slow down. The year after winning the Pulitzer he wrote a memoir about life on the Mississippi River at a time—his childhood—when rafts still rode the water. "Not a dull page in the book," one reviewer said. The next year, two more books appeared—on boating and poetry. He followed a year later with an odd biography—of Charlemagne, the king of the Holy Roman Empire, a larger-than-life figure who was responsible for the fusion of the Christian, Germanic, and Roman cultures that yielded European civilization. Although his armies dominated the battlefield, he was also known as a "light in the Dark Ages," a tireless reformer who improved his people's lives. Russell, at the age of seventy, was still trying to tell interesting and meaningful stories. The critics were mixed again, however, calling Russell "an industrious writer " and "careful scholar" whose writing was "as humdrum as his subject is unusual."
Criticism did not stop him, however. He quickly followed up with a biography of Haym Salomon. It would be Russell's last great cause and interest. Salomon was a young Polish Jew living in America who was instrumental in raising funds for the American Revolution and who barely escaped execution to help the revolutionary cause. In his development from penniless fugitive to respected businessman, philanthropist, and defender of his people Salomon was a hidden hero. But Russell chose him because injustice and oppression of the underclass was always his passion. He feared, especially in the early 1930s, for the fate of Jews worldwide. He wrote in 1939, "Millions of our fellow beings in Central and Eastern Europe are undergoing extermination by the most cruel means of death. What answer is civilization to make?" Again Russell was taking up a cause that few were aware of—and he wrote about it with passion and anger. In the early 1930s Russell helped form and became president of the Pro-Palestine League of America, a Christian organization that was arguing for the creation of a protected homeland for Jews in the Middle East, an area then controlled by the British. He was publicly rebuking England for making it difficult for Jews to enter Palestine to escape German persecution. He urged Americans to "stand and protest" against the "Middle Age ferocity" of the Nazis. After all, he noted in one speech, "The Jews are the only world family." At his death, one Jewish leader hailed Russell as "the foremost Christian champion of the Zionist cause." As usual, however, his words often caused controversy. After one bitter magazine attack on Adolph Hitler, an editor asked him to tone down his words. "We are flooded with letters of protest" about your opinions, he wrote.
In 1936 Julia Marlowe wrote Russell, "Charles, go slowly for the rest of your life." It was not possible for him. "I have been so rushed with the business of saving Ireland, Palestine, Manila and Madrid that I haven't yet had a chance to get to the library," he told one friend. "Your energy continues to astound me," another friend told him." But the truth was that Russell was growing increasingly nostalgic, referring to himself as a "fossil." He and Theresa now spent the summers in Vermont to escape Washington's heat, as one ailment or another often kept him idle "I look out upon the White Mountain Range, miles and miles away, across foothills and valleys. That is enough to exalt even one so dull as I am," he wrote. "Nothing really counts but the spirit, which is the intelligence that is bestowed upon each of us. The material existence is after all a kind of dream, the spiritual is reality."
Russell alternated between despair and hope. The reality of worsening conditions in Europe depressed Russell. "The world has been poisoned by this man Hitler," Julie Marlowe wrote him. A 1939 poem captured Russell's emotions. "The sadness of the world oppresses me like somber-sounded moanings of the sea," he wrote. "The sunset's grief, the dawn's pathetic plea, the dead leaf dropping from deserted tree. What is there left to light with rosy gleam the sadness of the world?" Novelist Fannie Hurst often wrote to Russell to cheer him up. "There are certain people I like to think about because just knowing they are on the planet gives me the courage to carry on," she said "You are one of the few who keep alive confidence that we are ultimately going to right the universe."
In fact, of course, Russell had slowly come to the conclusion that the work he had done and the movements in which he participated had played a key role in improving America. "The world does not grow worse, does not stand still, but slowly grows better," he concluded. Reform is a "vast, complicated and often mysterious evolution. It is not to be had with the naiveté of a single push." It calls for the persistence of each generation. "Slowly but surely we go up," he felt. He still saw the need to get rid of the "outworn, poisonous system" of capitalism, but incremental changes were needed while the world moved inevitably away from competition toward cooperation.
Russell 's life story mirrors the conflict so many reformer-utopians faced in the years between 1880 and 1920—his most important professional years. Industrialism had produced wondrous new riches for America, improved living conditions, and brought affluence never before seen. But it had also spawned dreariness and poverty, horrid living condition in urban ghettos, a threatening and dangerous industrial workplace, and a terrible despoliation of politics. The world for many was truly a dangerous and dismal place. For Russell, the excesses of the competitive marketplace and industrialism outweighed its glories, introducing conditions that he could not tolerate and that he had to fight to change up until the day he died. While the rest of the muckrakers got on with their lives, Russell kept trying to slay the beast. He grew to despise the fact that for so many Americans the goal of life was to accumulate as much wealth as possible. He wanted people to glory in the pleasure that came from cooperation, not competition. The question, of course, was how to get there. He rejected the religious solution of his parents and grandparents, which was to save souls. Instead, he grew to believe that the goodness of man could be realized only by changing the conditions that produced the misery. At first he became a reformer, a believer that by changing laws and instituting regulations many of the evils could be eliminated. But when he ousted the Boss of Brooklyn in 1888 and then watched the Boss quickly return to his throne, he realized that the people's wrath and reform solutions were short-lived indeed. Thus Russell turned to a more radical solution—socialism, the ownership by government of key industries, although he never outright rejected more temporary palliative measures.
Russell might be best remembered as the muckraker who sought both long- and short-range solutions to society's ills. He was associated with every major reform movement from the 1880s to the end of World War I. First he brushed up against the agrarian revolt known as Populism. Then, as a newspaperman and magazine writer, he was in the thick of the crusading zeal of the 1890s and the first part of the twentieth century, which led to some of the most important reforms in American life. But reform was not enough for him, and he joined the political party that sought to transform capitalism. He was the only muckraker who became so passionate about the social issues of the era that he came out from behind his pen to make four runs for political office. But he continued to straddle the worlds of journalism and politics, because even during his runs for office he kept up a steady stream of both commentary and exposé journalism in magazines and books. While journalism has always had activist and neutral strains, Russell was unique in that he successfully presented fact and opinion at the same time and thus succeeded in some of his major efforts, most notably in his triumph over Trinity Church. But his overlooked "beef trust" articles in 1904–1905 also had a major effect. Coupled with the work of Upton Sinclair and Samuel Hopkins Adams, Russell helped force the creation of the Food and Drug Administration, the federal agency which still today is the major overseer of everything from fish to drugs to meat. Its creation was a significant twentieth-century development. Russell's work in helping start the NAACP is more difficult to characterize. It is his lone significant accomplishment that did not involve his journalism or writing. He was purely a social activist, not a journalist, in pushing for the formation of this group, which became the premier advocate for civil rights up until the 1960s when so many other more militant organizations supplanted it. But for the most part Russell was a journalist who used his writing and research to make a difference.
In his final years, Russell seemed satisfied that he had made a contribution. "Nothing in this world softens the melancholy fact of increasing years and approaching death except the reflection that one has been of use, one has served one's times, helped one's fellows, brightened some lives, contributed some service that Society required," he observed. Tributes that poured in to Russell in his last few years certainly echoed those sentiments. The Literature Lovers of America gave him a testimonial dinner, as did a Jewish group in New York City and the YWCA in Washington. A little of his old spirit still remained. At the Washington dinner the eighty-year-old walked slowly to the podium. The event's sponsor went to fix the microphone. "Take it away," Russell thundered. "If I can't make myself heard in this little place, I'll crawl back in my cradle." The audience roared, and then they listened raptly as he castigated the nation for its continued discrimination of black Americans.
Russell still tried his hand at some writing, including a short story (never published) about Jewish victims of Hitler in Germany. Julia Marlowe perhaps spoke for them both when she wrote, "I am sorry but life seems to be too much." His good friend Ernest McGaffey wondered how Russell could keep "aiding in so many uplift enterprises and not get tangled up in some sort of physical reaction." Just a few months later, however, Russell succumbed. He was at his typewriter on April 23, 1941 when he became ill. He went to a couch to lie down. Soon after, Theresa came in and found her husband dead. "C. E. Russell Dies From Overwork," one newspaper reported. Unknowingly, Russell wrote his own epitaph. When his close friend William English Walling died, Russell spoke at a memorial service. He could have been talking about himself when he said: "He lived with unswerving loyalty; he fought the good fight; he loved his fellow man and served him. Greater achievement is not allowed to any upon this earth."
NOTES
PROLOGUE
. "Charles Edward Russell, 80, Dies After Brief Illness," _Washington Tribune,_ April 26, 1901. Russell Papers, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
. Telephone interview with Janet Sims Woods, April 18, 1994.
. "Charles Edward Russell, 80, Dies After Brief Illness," _Washington Tribune,_ April 26, 1901, "Charles Russell, Noted Writer, Socialist, Dies," Associated Press Story, April 24, 1941. "Charles Russell, Journalist, Dies," _New York Times,_ April 24, 1941, 44.
. Russell, _Theodore Thomas and the American Orchestra_ (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, Page & Co., 1927).
. There is no biography, only a Ph.D. dissertation: Donald H. Bragaw, "Soldier for the Common Good: The Life and Career of Charles Edward Russell," Syracuse University, 1970. See also David Mark Chalmers, _The Social and Political Ideas of the Muckrakers_ (New York: Citadel Press, 1964).
. Justin Kaplan, _Lincoln Steffens: A Biography_ (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1974); Russell Horton, _Lincoln Steffens_ (New York: Twayne Publishers, 1974); Kathleen Brady, _Ida Tarbell: Portrait of a Muckraker_ (New York: Seaview/Putnam, 1984); _More than a Muckraker: Ida Tarbell's Lifetime in Journalism,_ edited, with an introduction, by Robert C. Kochersberger (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1994); Louis Filler, _Voice of the Democracy: A Critical Biography of David Graham Phillips, Journalist, Novelist, Progressive_ (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1978); Isaac F. Marcossen, _David Graham Phillips and His Times_ (New York: Dodd, Mead & Company, 1932); William A. Bloodworth, _Upton Sinclair_ (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1977); Leon A. Harris, _Upton Sinclair, American Rebel_ (New York: Crowell, 1975); Robert C. Bannister, _Ray Stannard Baker: The Mind and Thought of a Progressive_ (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1966); John E. Semonche, _Ray Stannard Baker: A Quest for Democracy in Modern America, 1870–1918_ (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1969).
. Tarbell, _The History of the Standard Oil Company_ (New York: McClure, Phillips, 1904); Sinclair, _The Jungle_ (New York: Doubleday, Page & Co., 1906); Steffens, _The Shame of the Cities_ (New York: Hill and Wang, 1904, reprinted 1986).
CHAPTER ONE
. Russell, _These Shifting Scenes_ (New York: Doran Co., 1914), 146, noted the challenge of such routine stories, saying, "To make an annual event a story fresh and new was a test of workmanship." "Police in New Suits Out on Parade," _New York Herald,_ April 1, 1889, 9.
. A good summary of the Penny Press is Michael Schudsen, "The Revolution in American Journalism in the Age of Egalitarianism: The Penny Press," _Discovering the News_ (New York: Basic Books, 1978), 12–60. For overviews, see Frank Luther Mott, _American Journalism_ (New York: Macmillan Co., 1941), 228–252 and Michael and Edwin Emery, _The Press and America_ (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1988), 6th ed., 115–143.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 147.
. Wardman had the most successful career of "The Big Four." He stayed with the _Tribune_ until 1895 and became editor of the _New York Press_ until 1916. Kenney became an assistant to New York City's mayor, while Farrelly became a top editor at three of William Randolph Hearst's newspapers.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 148. Russell briefly recounted how he got to the scene of the disaster in "Herald Enterprise," June 10, 1889, 3. The _Herald_ 's first two pages were always filled with advertisements. Thus page 3 is the equivalent of its page 1.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 149–1450. "Herald Enterprise." Kenny's account of the journey is in "The Road to Johnstown," _New York Times,_ June 2, 1889, 2.
. "Herald Enterprise."
. Reporters knew this rule well. In New York the _Sun, World,_ and _Herald_ had long been at war. See W. A. Swanberg, _Pulitzer,_ "The Feud with Dana" (New York: Scribner's, 1967), 136–144.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 153–154.
. Ibid., 157. The telegram was reported by Kenney, "Road to Johnstown."
. "Herald Enterprise." George T. Ferris, _The Complete History of Johnstown and Conemaugh Valley Flood_ (New York: H. S. Goodspeed, 1889). Ferris also confirms the outline of Russell's account of how they came to Johnstown. On the flood, see also Frank Connelly, _Official History of the Johnstown Flood_ (Pittsburgh: Journalist Pub. Co., 1889).
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 162.
. Ibid. Russell, "After the Deluge," _Herald,_ June 4, 1889, 3.
. "Woe Wrought by the Wrath of the Waters," _Herald,_ June 3, 1889, 3.
. "Hundreds of Lives Lost in a Flood," _Herald,_ June 1, 1889, 3. "Victims Numbered by Thousands," _Herald,_ June 2, 1889, 3. In total, the _Herald_ printed fourteen stories on the first day of its coverage.
. "Victims Numbered by Thousands," 3–4. On the Hungarians, see, for example, "Lynching the Ghouls" and "Hungarians on the Loose," both page 3. David G. McCullough, _The Johnstown Flood_ (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1968), refutes the tales of the Hungarians, 211.
. McCullough's chapter on the press coverage of Johnstown is entitled "No pen can describe...," 205–229. "Chaos and Death," _Herald,_ 3. "Waters Subside on Scenes of Desolation," _Herald,_ 5. "Shadows of Despair," _Herald,_ 6.
. "Digging for the Dead," _Herald,_ June 6, 1889, 3.
. "Death, Ruin, Plague," _Herald,_ 3.
. Ferris, 299. Richard O'Connor, _Johnstown: The Day the Dam Broke_ (New York: J. P. Lippincott, 1957), 179–180. Russell, _Shifting Scenes,_ 167.
. McCullough, 208.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 168–169. Russell eventually said his success at Johnstown was "blind and irresistible chance." _Why I Am a Socialist_ (New York: Doran Co., 1910), 152.
. Kenney describes the Cafe Hungaria, "Road to Johnstown." Ferris, 298. _Shifting Scenes,_ 165. O'Connor, 182; and McCullough, 215–216; both retell the Davis anecdote. See also Arthur Lubow, _The Reporter Who Would Be King_ (New York: Scribner's, 1992), 37–39. "Thugs at Their Work," June 2, 1889, 4 and "In Unwholesome Company," June 6, 1889, 3.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 165.
. "Death, Ruin, Plague," June 5, 1889, 3. "Shadows of Despair," June 4, 3. "Waters Subside on Scenes of Desolation," June 4, 1889, 3.
. "Digging for the Dead," June 6, 1889, 3. "Mud, Ashes, Dead" and "Decaying Bodies Breed Pestilence," both June 7, 1889, 3.
. "Flood of Money for the Flood Stricken," June 4, 1889, 4. "Gloomy, Muddy Johnstown," June 12, 3. "Mud, Ashes, Dead," June 7, 1889, 3.
. Kenney notes the nickname in "How the Correspondents Live," _New York Times,_ June 2, 1889, 2. Ferris, 287. O'Connor, 164. Despite what O'Connor wrote, Russell reported that thirty priests, mostly from Pittsburgh, were on the scene by June 4. See "Waters Subside."
. "Swept from the Face of the Earth," June 9, 1899, 11. _Shifting Scenes,_ 170.
. Russell, "The Noblest Ambition," _The Academy Student,_ 4. Claire Johnson of St. Johnsbury, Vermont, supplied a copy of this article to the author.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 132.
. Ibid., 169.
. That Russell believed this is noted in a letter from William English Walling to Willoughby Walling, May 26, 1919: "Remember Mr. Russell's motto: 'The public doesn't know a fact until it has been printed sixteen times.'" Strunsky Walling Papers, Box 1, Folder: Correspondence 1917–1928, Yale University.
. "Rational Political Action," March 1912. It is unclear where this article appeared. It is in the Russell Papers, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C. He makes a similar comment in "Old Reporter Looks at the Mad-house World," _Scribner's,_ October 1933, 225.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 260. McCullough, 224.
. The cause of the dam burst is described by McCullough, 51–58, 76–77, and 247–250. See also O'Connor, 29–33. McCullough notes that "very few newspapers ever went so far as to mention any specific names" of the members of the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club, 250.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 168.
. Ibid., 167. Lincoln Steffens, "A Muckraker," _Lincoln Steffens Speaking_ (New York: Harcourt, Brace & Co., 1936), 157. His comments appeared originally in a book review of Russell's _Bare Hands and Stone Walls_ in the _Nation,_ December 20, 1933, 713.
CHAPTER TWO
. _A-rafting on the Mississipp'_ (New York, London: The Century Co., 1928), 4.
. Ibid., 6. A profile of William Rutledge is found in _History of Scott County, Iowa_ (Chicago: Inter-State Publishing Co., 1882), 633–635. Russell describes his grandfather in _A Pioneer Editor in Early Iowa; A Sketch of the Life of Edward Russell_ (Washington, D.C.: Ransdell Inc., 1941), 43–47.
. _A-rafting,_ 8
. The column appeared in _The Coming Nation,_ a socialist weekly newspaper, in 1911–1912. His work there will be discussed in chapters 11 and 12.
. On Davenport's history, see _History of Scott County,_ ibid.; on Iowa, see Louis Atherton, _Main Street on the Middle Border_ (Chicago: Quadrangle, 1966).
. An article describing this adventure, "A Mad Engineer," _New York Dispatch,_ April 10, 1887, is in the Russell Papers, Library of Congress.
. Russell made this comment in a United Press International obituary, "Charles Edward Russell, 80, Davenporter who won fame as author, newsman, dies," supplied to the author by the Davenport Public Library. The comment about Edward Russell, _History of Scott County,_ 578.
. _Pioneer Editor,_ 4, 7.
. Ibid., 1–11. The connection between temperance advocates such as Rutledge and the Russells and reform causes such as abolitionism can be found in Alice Felt Tyler, _Freedom's Ferment: Phases of American Social History to 1860_ (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1944).
. _History of Scott County,_ 579; _Pioneer Editor,_ 16.
. On the press and partisanship, see Michael Schudson, _Discovering the News: A Social History of American Newspapers_ (New York: Basic Books, 1978). On political patronage and newspapers, see _Iowa: A Guide to the Hawkeye State_ (New York: Hastings, 1949), 125.
. Russell wrote about Johnson: "He began almost at once to exercise the dictatorial instincts of his brutish mind by removing from office all persons that had displeased him or opposed his policies." _Pioneer Editor,_ 41. See also _History of Scott County,_ 580; "Iowa Imprints Before 1861," _Iowa Journal of History and Politics_ 36, 1938. v. 9. The Andrew Johnson Papers, V. 9, 315, also state that he was the first official removed by Johnson. The papers cite the above two sources. Letter to the author from Hans L. Trefousse, a Johnson biographer, September 24, 1996.
. Trefousse, _Andrew Johnson: A Biography_ (New York: Norton Co., 1989). _Pioneer Editor,_ 4.
. On the politics of Reconstruction, see Howard K. Beale, _The Critical Year: A Study of Andrew Johnson and Reconstruction_ (New York: Ungar, 1958); Martin E. Mantell Johnson, _Grant and the Politics of Reconstruction_ (New York: Columbia University Press, 1973); Eric L. McKitrick, _Andrew Johnson and Reconstruction_ (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1960).
. The _Gazette's_ history is described in _History of Scott County,_ 575–578 and "There goes the Gazette Block," _Quad City Times,_ August 28, 1981, supplied to the author by the Davenport Public Library. _Bare Hands and Stone Walls_ (New York: Scribner's Sons, 1933), 4.
. Russell describes this incident in _Bare Hands,_ 5–8. On the _Gazette's_ award, "There goes the Gazette Block," ibid.
. _Sh_ i _fting Scenes_ (New York: Doran Co., 1914), 5.
. Ibid., 14–15.
. _Catalogue, St. Johnsbury Academy_ (St. Johnsbury, Vt.: C. M. Stone Co., 1881), 20.
. Edward Russell's abstinence is noted in _History of Scott County,_ p. 581. _St. Johnsbury Catalogue,_ 21.
. _Bare Hands,_ 10. To understand the academy, I used Arthur F. Stone, _The First Hundred Years_ (St. Johnsbury, Vt., Alumni Fund, St. Johnsbury Academy, 1942) and St. Johnsbury Academy admission catalogue, 1990.
. _Bare Hands,_ 25. _The Story of Wendell Phillips: Soldier of the Common Good_ (Chicago: C. H. Kerr & Co., 1914).
. Russell's views on free trade can be seen in "The Reason Why A Republican Free Trader Gives His Reasons for Opposing What is Falsely Called a Protective Tariff," _Iowa State Leader,_ 1881. _Bare Hands,_ 23.
. _St. Johnsbury Catalogue,_ p. 19. _Bare Hands,_ 11.
. _Bare Hands,_ 12, 14.
. David D. Anderson, _Robert Ingersoll_ (New York: Twayne, 1972).
. _Bare Hands,_ 9, 15.
. Discussed in E. T. Fairbanks, _Town of St. Johnsbury, Vt.; A Review of One Hundred Twenty-five Years to the Anniversary Pageant_ (St. Johnsbury, 1912), 249.
. On Fairbanks, see _Dictionary of American Biography_ (New York: Scribner's Sons, 1959), 248–251. Sons of the founders were active in the town when Russell attended the academy, but there is no indication that he had relations—good or bad—with any of them.
. _Bare Hands,_ 16, 21.
. The chapter in _Bare Hands_ discussing Dow is entitled, "Old Jim Dow, Notcher of Beams," 8–25.
. Russell made these comments in an introduction to Caro Lloyd, _Henry Demarest Lloyd, 1847–1903, A Biography, V. 1_ (New York: G. P. Putnam's, 1912), vi, viii. A better biography of Lloyd is Chester McArthur Destler, _Henry Demarest Lloyd and the Empire of Reform_ (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1963).
. _Bare Hands,_ 16.
. Telephone interview with Newell, September 6, 1996. Letter to the author from Mrs. Johnson, February 7, 1990.
. _The Uprising of the Many_ (New York: Doubleday, Page & Co., 1907), 12. Introduction to Caro Lloyd, _Lloyd,_ see note 32, vii.
. _Bare Hands, 27._ He discusses his cousin in a letter, CER to J. B. Oakley, May 1, 1929, Haldeman Manuscripts, Lilly Library, Indiana University.
. _Bare Hands,_ 27. The Populist revolt is best described by John Hicks, _The Populist Revolt: A History of the Farmers' Alliance and the People's Party_ (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1931); Norman Pollack, _The Populist Response to Industrial America: Midwestern Populist Thought_ (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1962); and Lawrence Goodwyn, _Democratic Promise: The Populist Moment in America_ (New York: Oxford University Press, 1976).
. _Bare Hands,_ 31. "The Reason Why." See note 23.
. Perry, _Principles of Political Economy_ (New York: Scribner's, 1891), 503. Carroll Perry, _Professor of Life: A Sketch of A. L. Perry_ (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1923.)
. Russell letter to Gurney C. Gue, August 31, 1888, quoted in "The Bravery of Iowans in Storming of Chapultepec," _The Annals of Iowa_ VXXVIII, October 1946, 148.
. Russell briefly sketches his activities during this time in Arthur F. Stone, _History of the Class of Eighty-One, St. Johnsbury Academy_ (St. Johnsbury: C. M. Stone & Co, 1883), 17. _Bare Hands,_ 32.
. "The Bravery of Iowans," see note 40, 147. _Pioneer Editor,_ 51.
. Ibid., 51–52. He repeats this anecdote in _Bare Hands,_ 58–59.
. Background on the Hennepin Canal is in John J. Steinbach, "History of the Illinois and Mississippi Canal," M.S. thesis, Illinois State University, 1964,1–32 and Gerald A. Newton and Donald Griffin, _History of the Hennepin Canal_ (Macomb, Ill.: Institute for Regional Studies, 1984). Edward Russell's early advocacy is noted in _History of Scott County,_ 581. See also Roald Tweet, _A History of the Rock Island District, 1866–1983_ (Rock Island, Ill.: U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, 1984) and Gerald A. Newton, _History of the Hennepin Canal_ (Macomb, Ill.: Western Illinois University, 1984).
. _Pioneer Editor,_ 66, Steinbach, ibid., 15. See also Illinois and Mississippi River and Canal Improvement Commission, _Cheap Transportation and the Hennepin Canal: Proceedings of the Convention_ (Davenport, Iowa: Gazette Co., 1981).
. _Pioneer Editor,_ 68.
. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers found that prices could be cut in half when the railroads had waterway competition. See Steinbach, 25. Government agency was U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, _Annual Report,_ 1891, quoted in Steinbach, 31. A similar discussion of reduced rates is in Major W. H. H. Benyaurd, _From Lake Michigan to the Mississippi River: Reasons for the Construction of the New Canal_ (Davenport, Iowa: Michigan and Mississippi Canal Commission, 1884).
. _Pioneer Editor,_ 70–71.
. "Edward Russell," _Davenport Sunday Democrat,_ December 20, 1891, 2. Russell's active and organizing role can also be seen from the minutes of the 1881 conference he organized on the canal. _Proceedings of the River and Canal Improvement Convention_ (Davenport, Iowa: Gazette Printers, 1881).
. Henry C. Adams, in an introduction to F. H. Dixon, _State Railroad Control: A History of its Development in Iowa_ (New York: Crowell, 1896), 8. _Pioneer Editor,_ 70.
. _Pioneer Editor,_ 71.
. _Star Tribune: 125 Years of History in the Making_ (Minneapolis: Star Tribune, 1992). D. L. Sullivan to Russell, February 6, 1885, Russell Papers, Library of Congress.
. Ted Curtis Smythe, "A History of the _Minneapolis Journal,_ 1878–1939," Ph.D. dissertation, University of Minnesota, 1967. The comment about his editing is from an undated article that has a small drawing of Russell. Gelatt's comments are in two letters, one addressed "To whom it may concern," the other Gelatt to CER, both dated June 10, 1886. Both are in Russell Papers, Library of Congress.
CHAPTER THREE
. _These Shifting Scenes_ (New York: Doran Co., 1914), 31.
. The letter from his father is in Russell Papers, Library of Congress. _Shifting Scenes,_ 39.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 32.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 34, 40.
. Many of Russell's early newspaper articles were carefully pasted and saved in a scrapbook that I have used to understand his early reportage. In his papers, Library of Congress. "Broadway Oddities," _Commercial Advertiser,_ July 20, 1887.
. "An Aged Voodoo's Life," _Mail & Express,_ October 1886. "An Old Grave Digger," _Brooklyn Eagle,_ December 19, 1886.
. "Women Bird Fanciers," November 14, 1886, and "The Thieves of the Hill," February 6, 1887, both _Brooklyn Eagle._
. "Wonderful Crimes," _New York Dispatch,_ December 5, 1886. In another story, he gave over two full columns for one of the city's oldest detectives to talk about his years of crime solving. "Detective Life," _Commercial Advertiser,_ January 22, 1887.
. "Barrel House," _Brooklyn Eagle,_ November 7, 1886.
. "Victims of the Tremens," _Commercial Advertiser,_ May 22, 1887.
. The journal is in the Russell Papers.
. On reporters and space rates, see Ted Curtis Smythe, "The Reporter, 1880–1900: Working Conditions and their Influence on the News," _Journalism History_ (Spring 1980), 1–10. "A Widower's Wonderful Cat," _Mail & Express,_ September 1886; "A Family of Gum Chewers," _Mail & Express,_ October 24, 1886; "Anaconda's Bath," _Brooklyn Eagle,_ December 10, 1886. "Women at the Market," _Commercial Advertiser,_ June 8, 1887; "Dyspepsia," _Commercial Advertiser,_ February 26, 1887.
. "An Arkansas Mystery," _New York Dispatch,_ September 12, 1886; "A Tale of Three Lives," _Mail & Express,_ September 1886; and "The Demon of Gottingen," _Dispatch,_ February 27, 1887.
. "Hunting a Ghost," _Dispatch,_ February 6, 1887. Quoted in Hazel Dickens-Garcia, _Journalistic Standards in Nineteenth-Century America_ (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1989), 199.
. "A Woman Dies for his Love," _Mail & Express,_ January 8, 1887; "In a Very Bad Fix," _Mercury,_ March 6, 1887; "Two Trades," March 29, 1887, _Brooklyn Eagle,_ and "Whims of Abused Women," _Mail & Express,_ November 20, 1886.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 38. _The Autobiography of Lincoln Steffens_ (New York: Harcourt, Brace & Co., 1931), 311.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 47. _Recollections of a Varied Life_ (New York: Holt & Co., 1910), 294. He cites Russell as one of the outstanding reporters who worked for him, 260. On Eggleston's life, see also _A Rebel's Recollections._
. _Shifting Scenes, 55._ He wrote this originally in "The Police Justices Oe (sic) Gotham," _Mail & Express,_ February 5, 1887.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 56. "And They Were Married," _Commercial Advertiser,_ September 22, 1886.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 52. _Bare Hands and Stone Walls_ (New York: Scribner's Sons, 1933), 90.
. _Bare Hands,_ 87.
. Ibid., 81.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 49. _Bare Hands,_ 79.
. Eggleston, _Recollections of a Varied Life,_ 293.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 21. He tells about the incident in "The Case of William Heilwagner," 18–30.
. Henry David, _The History of the Haymarket Affair_ (New York: Collier Books, 1963), 58–79.
. Russell's version is "The Haymarket and Afterward," _Shifting Scenes,_ 80–110.
. "The Growing Menace of Socialism," _Hampton's,_ January 1909. Reprinted in _Studies in Socialism,_ a pamphlet, September 1910, 1–21.
. _Bare Hands,_ 193. _Shifting Scenes,_ 212.
. "The Story of the Crime," _World,_ November 12, 1886, 2. It is difficult to determine which stories, aside from the one noted here, were Russell's. Clearly, however, he was the second writer behind Henry Guy Carleton.
. "Autobiography of an Author," _Notes on Books and Authors_ from Doubleday, Page. & Co., found in Russell Papers. His two articles on Haymarket are: "The Haymarket and Afterwards, Some Personal Recollections," _Appleton'_ s, October 1907, 399–412 and "Chaos and Bomb Throwing in Chicago," _Hampton's,_ March 1910, 307–320. _Shifting Scenes,_ 94. He carefully traced how pipe bombs, like the one used in Chicago, could be bought in "Infernal Machines," _Commercial Advertiser,_ August 24, 1887.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 96. The _World_ is quoted in David, 273.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 105, 104.
. "No Parade, No Red Flags," _Boston Globe,_ November 12, 1888. _Shifting Scenes,_ 204.
. On the prison, _Sing Sing Prison: Its History, Purpose, Makeup and Program_ (Albany, N.Y.: Department of Correction, 1953). Russell, "In Sing Sing," March 1, 1887; "Sing Sing Inmates," March 2, 1887, both in _Commercial Advertiser._
. "The Capital Punishment Question," _New York Times,_ August 12, 1890, 12.
. Russell, "McElvaine in the Death Chair," _Herald,_ February 9, 1892, 5. _Brisbane, A Candid Biography_ (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1937), 97.
. "McElvaine in the Death Chair," ibid.
. "Execution of Murderer Cotto," _Herald,_ March 29, 1892, 3. See also, "Cowardly Cotto Will Die To-day," _Herald,_ March 28, 3. Russell wrote to a Davenport, Iowa, friend, Ralph Cram, on the letterhead of the American League to Abolish Capital Punishment, located in New York City, Russell to Cram, August 3, 1939.
. _Shifting Scenes, 22._ Detective journalism was almost a journalistic genre. See Russell A. Mann, "Investigative Reporting in the Gilded Age: A Study of the Detective Journalism of Melville E. Stone and the _Chicago Morning News,_ 1881–1888," Ph.D. dissertation, Southern Illinois University, 1977.
. The article is in the Russell Papers and appeared in the _World,_ May 7, 1887.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 132.
. "Where Was the Danmark?" _Shifting Scenes,_ 132–145. He discusses his love of boating, 249.
. The reference to Riis and Russell is in a fragment of a magazine article found in the Russell Papers. _Why I Am a Socialist_ (New York: Doran Co., 1910), 97.
. Russell also wrote many stories on the murder of Carl Ruttinger. See "Puzzling Mysteries of the Arthur Kill Murder," March 13, 1891, 4. "W.W. on the Handkerchief; William Wright Missing," March 14, 1891, 3; "Ruttinger's Life Insured for $21,000," March 16, 1891, 4; "Murder and Suicide Fit Wright's Character," March 20, 1891, 4. "Wright May Have Died With Ruttinger," March 15, 1891, 4; "More Mystery in the Strange Case of Carl Ruttinger," March 17, 1891, 4; "Startling Testimony that Evans Was Wright," March 18, 1891, 3; "Again All Theories Fail in the Ruttinger Case," March 21, 1891, 5; "Wright Seemed then on the Verge of Despair," March 22, 1891, p. 22; "Probably Ruttinger and Probably Not," April 1, 1891, 6, all in the _Herald. Shifting Scenes,_ 190. "Ghastly Butchery By a New York Jack the Ripper," _Herald,_ April 25, 1891, 3.
. "No 'Ripper' Yet For All the Hard Work," _Herald,_ April 29, 1891, 7. His other stories in the _Herald_ include "New York's 'Ripper' Known to the Police," April 26, 1891, 17; "The 'Ripper' Left a Fairly Plain Trail," April 27, 1891, 3; "Four Days Gone and No 'Ripper' Found Yet," April 28, 1891, 5.
. "No Motive Yet Found for the Borden Murder," _Herald,_ August 7, 13, 1891.
. "Mrs. Borden Was Dead A Full Hour Before Her Husband Came," _Herald,_ August 8, 3, 1891.
. Ibid.; "Borden Mystery May Soon Be Solved," _Herald,_ August 9, 1891, 3. There are various accounts of the Borden murder. However, the most thorough is Edward D. Radin, _Lizzie Borden: The Untold Story_ (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1961). Radin concluded that Lizzie Borden was innocent. He carefully and convincingly repudiates the biased account of Edmund Pearson, _Trial of Lizzie Borden_ (New York: Doubleday, Doran & Co., 1937).
. Radin, 4. Russell, _Why I Am A Socialist,_ 84.
. _Why I Am a Socialist,_ 88.
. Ibid., 85–86.
. _Bare Hands,_ 80.
CHAPTER FOUR
. "Harrison Men fear Blaine's name may create a cyclone," _Herald,_ June 4, 1892, 3.
. "The Bravery of Iowans in Storming of Chapultepec," _The Annals of Iowa_ VXXIII, October 1946, 148.
. Russell describes this incident in _A Pioneer Editor in Early Iowa: A Sketch of the Life of Edward Russell_ (Washington, D.C.: Ransdell Inc., 1941), 58–59. It is discussed also in _History of Scott County, Iowa_ (Chicago: Inter-State Publishing Co., 1882), 581.
. _Business: The Heart of the Nation,_ 13. Russell said both the Republican and Democratic parties started with noble ideals, but both became corrupt. See "The Breakup of the Parties," _Success,_ January 1909, 5–10; February, 80–82, 111–122.
. Business: _The Heart of the Nation,_ 20–24. He devotes a chapter to Weaver, "Greenback the Weaver," in _Bare Hands and Stone Walls_ (New York: Scribner's Sons, 1933), 57–78. Frederick E. Haynes, _James Baird Weaver_ (New York: Arno Press, 1975).
. "Life in A Big City," October 1886; "Detective and Clerk," January 2, 1887. Both articles are in the Russell Papers.
. _These Shifting Scenes_ (New York: George H. Doran, 1914), 112, 119.
. Ibid., 120.
. A Blaine biographer asserts that both Blaine sons were actively working for their father's nomination. David Saville Muzzey, _James G. Blaine: A Political Idol of Other Days_ (New York: Dodd, Mead & Co., 1963) 375. Quote from Russell, _Shifting Scenes,_ 130.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 113.
. Although the dates are not clear, Russell always especially liked Minneapolis, where he would often go for summer vacations, splitting logs and rowing on the state's lakes. He also regularly visited his brother's sisters in Minneapolis. Later, he often used Minnesota examples in his reporting.
. Muzzey, 463. See also Homer E. Socolofsky and Allan B. Spetter, _The Presidency of Benjamin Harrison_ (Lawrence: University of Kansas Press, 1987), 110.
. On relations between Harrison and Blaine, see Muzzey, 462–466 and Socolofsky and Spetter, 197–198.
. "Blaine comes on a personal errand" and "Blaine Gets Nearer to the nomination," _Herald,_ May 24, 1892, 3.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 214–215, 213.
. "Blaine will accept if nominated," _Herald,_ June 3, 1892, 3; _Shifting Scenes,_ 216; "Blaine will accept, that seems sure," _Herald,_ May 27, 1892, 3.
. "Mr. Platt Dissects President Harrison," _Herald,_ June 1, 1892, 3. On Platt's dissatisfaction with Harrison, _The Autobiography of Thomas C. Platt_ (New York: B. W. Dodge, 1910), 206 207 and Socolofsky and Spetter, 195–197.
. "Harrison men mean to make a hard fight," _Herald,_ June 2, 1892, 3.
. Ibid.; Muzzey, 472–474; "Blaine's resignation sets Minneapolis wild," _Herald,_ June 5, 1892, 3.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 217, 213.
. "Neck and neck are the leaders at Minneapolis," _Herald,_ June 7, 1892, 3.
. "Harrison ahead, but bartered votes will decide it," _Herald,_ June 8, 1892, 3.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 219. James P. Boyd, _Life and Service of Honorable James G. Blaine_ (New York: Publishers Union, 1893), 174.
. "Harrison ahead, but bartered votes will decide it," _Herald,_ June 8, 1892, 3.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 227.
. Ibid., 237. "Still hard at work to save democracy from defeat," _Herald,_ June 22, 1892, 3.
. Russell wrote an admiring description of Whitney in a letter to Whitney's biographer. See Mark D. Hirsch, _William C. Whitney: Modern Warwick_ (New York: Archon Books, 1969), 393.
. Russell wrote an admiring portrait of Whitney for the _Herald_ as well. "Whitney's able battle," June 20, 1892, 4,5.
. Russell's allegations came in _Shifting Scenes,_ 243–244. Whitney's biographer denies that Whitney had to make promises in return for Cleveland's election (411), although he concedes that Whitney's modus operandi was to meld business and politics. Hirsch, 469. Cleveland biographer Allan Nevins also makes no mention of possible vote buying, saying only that Whitney was "suave, cool and indomitable." _Grover Cleveland: A Study in Courage_ (New York: Dodd, Mead & Co.), 490.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 243, 113.
. Russell described the encounter with Kelly in _Bare Hands,_ 117–119.
. Profiles of McLaughlin include Harold Zink, " 'Old Man' Hugh McLaughlin," _City Bosses in the United State_ (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1930), 178–193, and Henry Claflin Wells, _Urban Political Development and the Power of Local Groups: A Case Study of Politics in South Brooklyn, 1865–1935_ (New York: Columbia University Press, 1986), 119–136. Wells says McLaughlin was one of the first bosses in America. For contrasting views on the political boss, see Samuel P. Orth, _The Boss and the Machine_ (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1920); Bruce Stave and Sondra Astor Stave, eds., _Urban Bosses, Machines, and Progressive Reformers_ (Lexington, Mass.: Heath, 1972) and John D. Haeger, ed., _The Bosses_ (St. Charles, Mo.: Forum Press, 1974).
. _Bare Hands,_ 119. Russell details the grievances against the McLaughlin machine in "Here, There, and About the City," Brooklyn supplement, October 15, 1. See also Russell's "Why Brooklyn is bankrupt," a less impressive story, October 21, 4.
. "Ring Ridden Brooklyn in Revolt," October 8, 1893, 5–6.
. Ibid.
. _Bare Hands,_ 121; _Shifting Scenes,_ 210.
. _Bare Hands,_ 120.
. _City Bosses,_ 192, 182–183.
. "Further Mayoralty Comments," August 13, 1893, Brooklyn supplement, 1. Russell's criticism of Boody can be seen also in "Mr. McLaughlin as Talker," September 3, Brooklyn supplement.
. " 'Boss' McLaughlin returns," September 15, 1893, 8, _New York Times._ The _Tribune_ article, November 2, 1877, 4, is cited in _City Bosses,_ 183.
. Ibid., September 15, 1893. Russell discussed the opposition in "Mr. Boody in Danger," September 17, 1893, Brooklyn supplement.
. "Specific Charges for Boody," October 19, 1893, 1; "Specific Charges, He Demands, and Here They Are," October 20, 1893, 5, both in the _New York Times._ Russell analyzes the political situation in "Mr. Boody in danger," September 17, 1893, Brooklyn supplement.
. Russell's story on the Committee of 100 is "For Brooklyn's emancipation," September 29, 1893, Brooklyn supplement. "Brooklyn Demands a Fighter for Good Government," _New York Times,_ October 1, 1893, 13.
. "Ring Ridden Brooklyn in Revolt," October 8, 1893, 5–6.
. Ibid. On McLaughlin's wealth, see _City Bosses,_ 191–192.
. "Honeycombed with corruption," October 9, 2; "Brooklyn citizens declare for their champion," _New York Times,_ October 13, 1893, 1.
. "Throttled by the Brooklyn ring," October 22, 1893, 6. He elaborates in "Find the ring hard to beat," October 25, 1893, 6.
. "Brooklyn demands a fighter for good government"; "Closing the lines around the ring," _Herald,_ October 29, 1893, Brooklyn supplement, 3, a knowledgeable commentary on Brooklyn politics and the issues posed by the election.
. "Specific charges for Boody," _New York Times,_ October 29, 1893, 1.
. "McKane and his Sunday school," October 1, 1893, 6.
. Ibid. on McLaughlin, see _Bare Hands,_ 122.
. "War on floaters in Kings County," _Herald,_ November 1, 1893, 1; "The issue in Brooklyn," October 27, 1893, 6.
. "War on floaters," ibid.; "'Boss' M'Kane to the Bar," _New York Times,_ November 1, 1893, 1.
. "Fighting for a citizen's spoils," November 2, 7. Blaine A. Brownell and Warren E. Stickle, eds., _Urban Political Development and the Power of Local Groups: Bosses and Reformers in Urban Politics in America, 1880–1920 (_ Boston: Houghton-Mifflin, 1973), 1. The authors portray rigid dichotomies such as Russell's as simplistic and offer a revisionist view that the bosses were important to stability and in providing municipal services.
. "M'Kane's Crowning Outrage," _New York Times,_ November 6, 1893, 1; " 'Boss' McKane still defiant," November 6, 1893, 1. Russell described the police effort to influence voters in "Police muster for Boody," October 27, 1893, 5.
. "Why Brooklyn's ring must fail," November 3, 1896, 6. Russell discusses campaign money in "'Boodle' for the campaign," October 18, 1893, 6.
. "Brooklyn ring annihilated," _New York Times,_ November 8, 1893, 1; "All praise the Herald," November 9, 1893, 1.
. _Bare Hands,_ 122, 123.
. Zink, _City Bosses,_ discusses McLaughlin's various comebacks and his final days, 186–189.
. _Bare Hands,_ 126.
CHAPTER FIVE
. "Controls All the Ice," April 23, 1896, 3. Discussions of the trust problem can be found in all the major literature on the Gilded Age and the Progressive Era. See Eliot Jones, _The Trust Problem in the United States_ (New York: Macmillan, 1928) and George Mowry, _The Era of Theodore Roosevelt_ (New York: Harper and Row, 1958).
. _World,_ April 1, 1896, 1, 3, 4, 5, 13.
. _World,_ April 23, 1896, 1, 2, 3, 5.
. "Began a Fight, Got Shot," _World,_ May 6, 1896, 1.
. James W. Barrett, _Joseph Pulitzer and His World_ (New York: Vanguard, 1941), 97.
. Charles Edward Russell, _These Shifting Scenes_ (New York: Doran Co., 1914), 286.
. There are three biographies about Phillips: I. F. Marcossen, _David Graham Phillips and His Times_ (New York: Dodd, Mead, 1932), Abe C. Ravitz, _David Graham Phillips_ (New York: Twayne Publishers, 1966) and Louis Filler, _The Voice of Democracy: A Critical Biography of David Graham Phillips, Journalist, Novelist, Progressive_ (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1978).
. Marcossen, 11. Russell and Phillips authored a book together called "Dictionary of things as they are." It contained such musings as: "Success—Gouging your way to the front with lies, fakes, and the strangling of your fellows." And "Friendship—The interest that Mr. A. pretends in Mr. B for the sake of some advantage he expects to win from Mr. B." No publisher was interested in this book. Marcossen, 184.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 289.
. "Was Alive in His Coffin," _World,_ April 29, 1896, 1.
. "A World Picture Did It," _World,_ May 5, 1896, 1.
. "Now Comes a Hypnotist," May 4, 1996, 3, "Dead in the River Mud," April 13, 1896, 2, both in the _World._
. "Knife Stuck in Skull," December 1, 1997, 3 and "Zavoli's Wife No. 4 to Be Exhumed To-morrow," December 12, 1897, 4, both in the _World._
. George Juergens, _Joseph Pulitzer and the New York World_ (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1966), 84. Juergens provides the best analysis and discussion of the themes that clearly emerge in the news pages of Pulitzer.
. Quoted by Juergens from a _World_ editorial, May 6, 1884.
. Juergens, quoting Pulitzer, _World,_ May 27, 1884, 70–71.
. Almost none of the editors and reporters wrote memoirs about their years in Pulitzer's newsroom. Given the fact that the _World_ was considered an admirable—if not august—newspaper, this is odd. It is understandable that they were too busy to write letters during their days as reporters; however, it is inexplicable that their memoirs reflect so little of their news days. Perhaps, since many went into careers as writers of fiction, they considered their news days as merely training grounds, with little lasting value.
. Russell, _Shifting Scenes,_ 285.
. Russell, _Business: The Heart of the Nation_ (New York: John Lane Co., 1911), 123.
. Ivy Lee to CER, January 4, 1909, Russell Papers, Library of Congress.
. _World,_ April 13, 1884, 4, quoted in Juergens, 70.
. Phillips's journalism is detailed in Robert Miraldi, "The Journalism of David Graham Phillips," _Journalism Quarterly_ 63 (Spring 1988): 83–88. This article is a summary of a Ph.D. dissertation of the same name, New York University, 1985.
. _Shifting Scenes,_ 286.
. "Death Hid in the Stove," December 3, 1897, 3 and "Her Husband a Felon," July 3, 1896, 3, both in the _World._
. "Burglars Rob Old—and Perhaps Young," _World,_ September 9, 1897. Juergens, 52. A good discussion of the "story" techniques found in Pulitzer's _World_ is Michael Schudsen, "Stories and Information: Two Journalisms in the 1890s," _Discovering the News_ (New York: Basic Books, 1978), 88–120.
. _World_ editorial, December 7, 1883, quoted in Juergens, 50.
. John Tipple, "Big Businessman and a New Economy," _The Gilded Age,_ ed. H. Wayne Morgan (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1975).
. The articles appeared April 3–8, 10–15, 1893, with headlines such as "Smash This Trust!" and "Kill these Trusts." They are discussed in my dissertation (note 22), 71–75.
. Undated, unsigned memo, about 1900, in the Pulitzer Papers, Columbia University, New York City.
. "Boodle to Buy Votes," March 11, 1895, 1. "Can't Stand the Light," March 15, 1895, 1, both in the _World._
. Ibid.
. "Controls All the Ice," _World,_ April 23, 1896, 1–2.
. Other stories on the ice monopoly included "Fight the Ice Trust," April 24, 1896, 2, "May Kill the Ice Trust," April 26, 1896, 4, and "Morse's Ice Trust," May 4, 1895, 4. Less crusading but equally adamant was a story about a court hearing on an injunction to halt a wallpaper manufacturer from controlling that industry in New York. "Wages Cut and Rivals Crushed," read a headline over the story, another example of the public outrage over lack of competition. "Fighting a Big Trust," _World,_ April 26, 1895,1.
. April 28, 1895, _World,_ 1. The meat packers, later to become Russell's archenemies, were particular targets that month. See stories attacking the beef trust on April 11, 13, and 16, 1895. Further indication of the Pulitzer obsession with the trusts' control is "At the Mercy of the Trusts," May 6, 1895, 2, which was a summary of how the trusts were overcharging consumers.
. "Shoes Will Come High," _World,_ May 3, 1895, 1.
. "Secret of the Kinsgbridge Road Big Franchise Grab," _World,_ September 27, 1897, 1.
. "Mind-Reading A Trick," _World,_ February 18, 1895, 6. Two months after this article appeared, Cochrane married and ended her illustrious and controversial reporting stint at the _World._
. Pay for Bail Bonds," _World,_ April 24, 1896, 1.
. Alleyne Ireland, _An Adventure with a Genius: Recollections of Joseph Pulitzer_ (New York: Johnson Reprint, [1969] 1920), 115.
. See note 36.
. Stories on the franchise grab appeared on September 19–20, 27–30, and October 6, 1897.
. "The World's 'Halt' Holds the Franchise Grab," _World,_ September 30, 1897, 1.
. September 20, 1897, 1; "A Philadelphia Engineer Examines N.Y. Streets for World," October 4, 1897, 5; "Chaos Collins Causes Water to Flood," October 11, 1897, 1, both in the _World._
. Quoted in Juergens, 92.
. Russell, _Shifting Scenes,_ 285.
CHAPTER SIX
. W. A. Swanberg, _Pulitzer_ (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1967), 136–147.
. In the "new journalism" of the 1880s, see Edwin and Michael Emery, _The Press and America,_ 6th ed. (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1988), 203–212. The _World_ was reaching 450,000 people, an unheard of number.
. David Nasaw, _The Chief: The Life of William Randolph Hearst_ (New York: Houghton-Mifflin, 2000), 98.
. Swanberg, 207. A glimpse at the New York newspaper world can be seen in Allen Churchill, _Park Row_ (New York: Rinehart, 1958).
. Ben Procter, _William Randolph Hearst, The Early Years_ (New York: Oxford, 1998), 81.The Goddard story is retold in Ferdinand Lundberg, _Imperial Hearst: A Social Biography_ (New York: Equinox Cooperative Press, 1936), 54–55; John K. Winkler, _W. R. Hearst: An American Phenomenon_ (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1928), 106–107); Swanberg, 206; and Nasaw, 103–104.
. Nasaw, 120, 104.
. Swanberg, 207; Nasaw, 105; Proctor, 87; Lundberg, 56.
. Russell, _These Shifting Scenes_ (New York: Doran Co., 1914), 272–273.
. Don Seitz, Joseph _Pulitzer: His Life and Letters_ (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1924), 211–212. Russell, _Shifting Scenes,_ 277.
. Abbot, _Watching the World Go By_ (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1933), 207–208. Russell, _Shifting Scenes,_ 310.
. The secret Pulitzer code names are listed on the inside cover of Swanberg's biography, _Pulitzer._ Russell's name is omitted. However, his code name is listed in the Joseph Pulitzer Collection, Columbia University, Container No. 1, Box 1896–1898.
. Oliver Carlson, _Brisbane: A Candid Biography_ (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1937), 107–8.
. I. F. Marcossen, _David Graham Phillips and His Times_ (New York: Dodd, Mead & Co., 1932), 190.
. Procter, 87; Nasaw, 113; Abbott, 134–135.
. _New York Journal,_ January 3, 7, 1897, 1. "Crime and passion... were the most pervasive themes in every _Journal_ paper," concludes Procter, 98.
. There are various accounts of the war coverage. See Charles H. Brown, _The Correspondents' War_ (New York: Scribner's, 1967); Walter Millis, _The Martial Spirit: A Study of Our War with Spain_ (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1931); Marcus M. Wilkerson, _Public Opinion and the Spanish-American War_ (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1932); and Joseph E. Wisan, _The Cuban Crisis as Reflected in the New York Press_ (New York: Columbia University Press, 1934).
. Russell, _Shifting Scenes,_ 276, Procter 137–138.
. Lundberg, 59; Procter, 99.
. _New York Journal,_ January 2, 1898, 45; Procter, 97–97; Nasaw, 102.
. Russell, "William Randolph Hearst, 791.
. Russell, ibid., 790. "Trolley defies law's edict," January 1, 1897; "Shea and His Duty," January 6, 1897; and "Officers Board the Bridge Loop," January 3, 1897, all in _New York Journal._
. Procter, 97. Nasaw (121) agrees on this point, writing, "Hearst and his paper kept a careful eye on the process, ever alert to new swindles, new payoffs, new 'grabs' by the trusts."
. Russell, "William Randolph Hearst," 791.
. Procter, 96; Abbot, 142; Russell, "Hearst," 790.
. Russell, "Hearst," 790.
. "Journalism for Revenue Only," unpublished manuscript, Russell Papers, Library of Congress.
. Ibid.
. Ibid.
. Ibid.
. Procter, 152. The rise of journalistic objectivity is traced in Michael Schudsen, _Discovering the News_ (New York: Basic Books, 1978) and Robert Miraldi, _Muckraking and Objectivity: Journalism's Colliding Traditions_ (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1991).
. Phoebe Apperson Hearst to Orrin Peck, May 3, 1899, in Orrin M. Peck Collection, Department of Manuscripts, Huntington Library, San Marino, California. See note 17, Nasaw, 621. May 3, 1899, quoted in Judith Robinson, _The Hearsts_ (New York: Avon, 1992), 326.
. Telegram Hearst to Bryan, May 19, 1900. Box 24, Bryan Papers; James K. Jones to Bryan, April 21, 1900. Box 24, Bryan Papers, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
. John Tebbell, _The Life and Good Times of William Randolph Hearst_ (New York: E. P. Dutton & Co., 1952), 153, 133. Bryan to Hearst, July 4, 1900. Box 24, Bryan Papers.
. Emmett Dedmon, _Fabulous Chicago_ (New York: Atheneum, 1981), 192–193. See also Harold M. Mayer and Richard C. Wade, _Chicago: Growth of a Metropolis_ (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1969); Edward Wagenknecht, _Chicago_ (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1964).
. "A Word to the _American_ 's Friends," _American,_ September 27, 1901
. Salisbury, _The Career of a Journalist_ (New York: B. W. Dodge & Co., 1908).
. Salisbury, 170.
. Russell identified the reporter in _Bare Hands and Stone Walls_ (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1933), 137. The major stories on the water diversion are "Water Thieves Caught," September 7; "Grand Jury at Work on Water Steal," September 10; "Grand Jury Follows the Lead of the American and Indicts a Packer for Theft of Water," September 28; "Water Thieves Are Watched"; and "Cut Off Water from the Thieves," October 1900.
. Lundberg, _Imperial Hearst,_ asserts that Hearst's newspapers ceased their attacks on companies once they began to advertise in his newspapers, 62–63. In his groundbreaking criticism of the press, Will Irwin alleges that Hearst newspapers regularly gave favorable play reviews for Broadway shows that advertised in his newspapers. Irwin, "The American Newspaper," _Collier's,_ February 18, 1911, and June 3, 1911. Hearst filed a $500,000 lawsuit against Irwin and _Collier's._ "Armour's Plant Fed by Stolen Water," November 9, 1900; "One of the Stealers of the City Water Confesses," January 14, 1901; "First of the Water Thieves Is Guilty," January 18, 1901.
. The major gas trust stories are "People Fight the Gas Infamy," September 5, "Has $6,000,000 to Fight Gas Trust," September 6, "Chicago Proceeds to Own a Gas Plant," September 8, "The Gas Group," September 9. In total seventeen stories were published on the gas trust.
. "Municipal Ownership," September 10, 4; "The Socialism of the Trusts," August 26, 1900; "Notes About Municipal Ownership," February 4; "A Great Metal Trust," February 6; "Do It Now," February 25, all 1901. Mark H. Rose, _Cities of Light and Heat_ (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1995). Frederic Lundberg asserts that Hearst's real motivation was to take the leadership out of the hands of true reformers and to assume it himself. Then he could use it to get advertising and to gain more influence in municipal politics. Lundberg's proof is weak, however. _Imperial Hearst,_ 62–64.
. About Chicago journalism, see John J. McPahul, _Deadlines and Monkeyshines_ (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1962); Tebbell, 97.
. Salisbury, 177–179.
. Salisbury, 523–524. Russell never discusses the incident, even though his two autobiographies were published after Salisbury's book. In fact, except for one three-page article in _Harper's Weekly,_ Russell oddly never discusses his years with Hearst.
. Clippings of obituaries were found in Russell's Papers, Library of Congress.
CHAPTER SEVEN
. "Charles E. Russell Goes Abroad to Remain a Year," _New York Telegraph,_ March 2, 1902. The article indicated he suffered from rheumatism as a result of his Johnstown flood reporting, and that he was accompanied by a stepson. I have found no evidence that he had a stepson. The article is in the Russell Papers, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
. Russell to Julia Marlowe, June 10, 1900; Marlowe to Russell, June 3, 1905, Russell Papers.
. Russell to Rice, September 2, 1906. Rice Papers, Newberry Library, Chicago. Although this letter is written later than the period being discussed, it is accurate about Russell's state of mind in 1902. John Edward Russell was at Northwestern University for two years. He did not graduate, however, but went into newspaper work before writing fiction and movie screenplays in Hollywood. His application form was supplied to the author by Northwestern.
. See "Dead Music," 124, and "Memories of the Riffelberg," 126, in _Such Stuff as Dreams_ (Indianapolis: Bowen Merrill Co., 1901) which was dedicated to the memory of Abby Osborne Russell. There are also seven poems written about Julia Marlowe. Russell wrote three other volumes of poetry: _The Twin Immortalities and Other Poems_ (Chicago: Hammersmark Publishing Co., 904), _Songs of Democracy_ (New York: Moffat, Yard & Co., 1909), and _An Hour of American Poetry_ (Philadelphia: Lippincott & Co., 1927).
. Russell Papers, no date. CER to Rice, December 17, 1901, Newberry Library.
. Russell, _Bare Hands and Stone Walls_ (New York: Scribner's Sons, 1933), 136.
. John A. Cassidy, _Algernon C. Swinburne_ (New York: Twayne, 1964); Edmund Gosse, _The Life of Algernon Charles Swinburne_ (London: Macmillan & Co, 1917); Edwin Williams, "Algernon C. Swinburne as Poet-Prophet," Ph.D. dissertation, University of North Carolina, 1972. Russell, _The American Orchestra and Theodore Thomas_ (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, Page & Co., 1927).
. _Bare Hands,_ 136.
. Russell, "Confessions of a Muck-Raker," an epilogue to _Lawless Wealth_ (New York: B. W. Dodge & Co., 1908), 282.
. "Confessions," 283.
. Ibid., 282.
. Gabriel Kolko, _Railroads and Regulation, 1877–1916_ (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1965), 55, and I. F. Sharfman, _The Interstate Commerce Commission: A Study in Administrative Law and Procedure_ (New York: Harper & Row, 1931), 46. For background on railroad regulation, see Balthasar H. Meyer, _Railway Legislation in the United States_ (New York: Arno, Press, 1973).
. "Confessions," 283.
. Various historians view the Progressive Era in this way. See John Chamberlain, _Farewell to Reform_ (New York: John Day Co., 1932); Eric Goldman, _Rendezvous with Destiny_ (New York: Vintage Press, 1955); and Louis Filler, _The Muckrakers_ (University Park: Pennsylvania State Press, 1976), published originally in 1939 as _Crusaders for America Liberalism._
. "Confessions," 283, and _Bare Hands,_ 137.
. _Bare Hands,_ 137.
. A. M. Simons, _Packingtown_ (Chicago: Charles H. Kerr & Co. 1899).
. Quoted from a review of Tarbell's 1902 book, _A History of Standard Oil,_ "Miss Tarbell," _Chicago Examiner,_ December 17, 1904, 6. Found in a Russell scrapbook, Russell Papers. Hofstadter, _The Age of Reform/From Bryan to F.D.R._ (New York: Vintage, 1955), 186. "It is hardly an exaggeration," he wrote, "to say that the Progressive mind was characteristically a journalistic mind...."
. "Miss Tarbell," ibid.; _Bare Hands,_ 141.
. Russell, _The Greatest Trust in the World_ (New York: The Ridgway-Thayer Co., 1905). Reprinted by Arno Press in 1975 as part of its series on American farmers and the rise of agribusiness. The book version of Russell's work was published after it first appeared in _Everybody's._ The page numbers cited here are from the magazine articles that appeared from February to September 1905. February, 151–156; March, 291–300; April, 502–516; May, 643–654; June, 779–792; July, 61–74; August, 218–227; September, 380–384. The two quotations included in this note are from 650, 783.
. "Confessions," 284. On the meat-packing industry, see Louise Wade, _Chicago's Pride: The Stockyards, Packingtown, and Environs in the Nineteenth Century_ (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1987).
. _Bare Hands,_ 132, 133; "Confessions," 284. Lawson's articles are collected in _Frenzied Finance, The Crime of Amalgamated_ (New York: Ridgway-Thayer Co., 1905).
. On Tarbell being threatened, see Kathleen Brady, _Ida Tarbell/Portrait of a Muckraker_ (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1984), 122–123. Sullivan discuses being shadowed in _The Education of an American_ (New York: Doubleday, Doran & Co., 1938), 186–187. "Confessions," 284.
. "Confessions," 284.
. "The Greatest Trust," 63, 155, 148, 149, 151.
. Ibid., 151.
. Ibid., 134, 90. On Armour, see B. C. Forbes, _Men who are making America_ (New York: B. C. Forbes Co., 1917).
. Ibid., 90, 131.
. Ibid., 107, 115, 14.
. Sinclair, _The Jungle_ (New York: Doubleday, Page & Co., 1906). Sinclair to Russell, January 25, 1905, Russell Papers.
. On Tarbell, see Brady, 144–145. Russell outlines these sources in "Confessions," 285–286.
. Kolko, 94.
. Kolko, 95. "The Greatest Trust," 215.
. "Greatest Trust," 645. Armour was particularly indignant at this allegation. Armour said Iowa state officials reported that the bank failures were because of "unwise speculations and reckless banking methods," not the manipulations of the meat packers. Armour, _The Packers, the Private Car Lines and the People_ (Philadelphia: Altemus Co., 1906), 127–128. A reliable history of the meat packers is David Gordon, "The Beef Trust, Anti-Trust Policy and the Meat Packing Industry, 1902–922," Ph.D. dissertation, Claremont College, 1983.
. "Beef Trust Resolution of Inquiry," _Congressional Record,_ House Resolution 347, 5406.
. The Sherman Act is discussed in Hans Thorelli, _The Federal Anti-Trust Policy/Organization of an American Tradition_ (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1985), 587. Roosevelt's moderate approach is best summarized in George Mowry, _Theodore Roosevelt and the Progressive Movement_ (New York: Hill and Wang, 1960) and John Morton Blum, _The Republican Roosevelt_ (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1954).
. _Report of the Commissioner of Corporations on the Beef Industry,_ March 3, 1905 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1905), 83. Armour, ibid., 70
. Kolko, _Railroads and Regulation or Triumph of Conservatism,_ 81.
. "They had shaped the terms of the investigation," wrote Jack M. Thompson, "James R. Garfield: The Career of a Rooseveltian Progressive, 1895–1916," Ph.D. dissertation, University of South Carolina, 1958, 106.
. "The Greatest Trust," 784, 785, 789. See Gordon, note 34, 157–169, in which he analyzes Russell's articles. Although Gordon applauds Russell's overall impact on the meatpackers, he wrote in regard to the Garfield report: "He continued to misread or misrepresent" it (164).
. Gordon, ibid., discusses the trial in "The Garfield Commission and an 'Immunity Bath,'" 90–125. Garfield's diaries contradict his testimony at the trial. See Thompson, 106.
. "The Greatest Trust," 781, 217. Roosevelt's comments are in Elting S. Morison, ed., _Letters of Theodore Roosevelt,_ 5 (Cambridge, Mass; Harvard University Press, 1952) March 22, 1906, 189–90.
. Ibid., 650, 647, 89, 224, 227, 208.
. _Bare Hands,_ 139. Many of the muckrakers opted for fiction. See Jay Martin, "The Literature of Arguments and the Arguments of Literature," _Muckraking: Past, Present and Future,_ eds. John M. Harrison and Harry Stein (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1973), 100–117. See also James R. Bailey, "David Graham Phillips: Novelist of the Progressive Era," Ph.D. dissertation, Indiana University, 1971; and Louis Filler, _The Voice of Democracy: A Critical Biography of David Graham Phillips_ (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1978). On Phillips's muckraking fiction, see Robert Miraldi, "The Journalism of David Graham Phillips," Ph.D. dissertation, New York University, 1985, 153–206.
. The best account of Sinclair is in William Bloodworth, "The Early Years of Upton Sinclair: A Study of the Development of a Progressive Christian Socialist," Ph.D. dissertation, University of Texas, 1972. Bloodworth, _Upton Sinclair_ (New York: Twayne, 1977), 44–45, 48. See also Jon A. Yoder, _Upton Sinclair_ (New York: Ungar, 1975) and Walter Miller, _Upton Sinclair's The Jungle: A Critical Commentary_ (New York: Monarch Press, 1983).
. Good summaries of the Adams influence on the FDA are in John Crunden, "It Is Sin to Be Sick: The Muckrakers and the Pure Food and Drug Act," _Ministers of Reform: The Progressives' Achievement in American Civilization, 1889–1920_ (New York: Basic Books, 1982), 163–199, and James H. Cassedy, "Muckraking and Medicine: Samuel Hopkins Adams," _American Quarterly_ 16 (Spring 1964), 85–99. See also Samuel V. Kennedy, "The Last Muckraker," Ph.D. dissertation, Syracuse University Press, 1993 and _Samuel Hopkins Adams and the Business of Writing_ (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1999).
. Roosevelt said that the David Graham Phillips articles and _The Jungle,_ which he labeled as "lurid sensationalism," prompted his denunciation of the muckraking writers. His comment on revolution: Roosevelt to William Howard Taft, March 13, 1906, _Letters of Roosevelt,_ 5, 183–184. A discussion of how to build "media and policy agendas" in order to achieve social change can be found in David L. Protess et al., _The Journalism of Outrage: Investigative Reporting and Agenda Building in America_ (New York: Guilford Press, 1991), 231–257.
. Gordon, "The Beef Trust," 168.
CHAPTER EIGHT
. Charles Edward Russell to Wallace Rice, June 16, 1905. Rice Papers, Newberry Library. Russell, "Empty Ways," _The Twin Immortalities and Other Poems_ (Chicago: Hammersmark Publishing Co., 1904.)
. Russell, _Bare Hands and Stone Walls_ (New York: Scribner's Sons, 1933), 237–239. Much of America was equally concerned about the route of capitalism. See, for example, Samuel P. Hays, _The Response to Industrialism, 1885–1914_ (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1973) and Robert H. Wiebe, _The Search for Order, 1877–1920_ (New York: Hill and Wang, 1967).
. Sinclair, _The Jungle_ (New York: Doubleday, Page & Co., 1906). Of course, Sinclair's purpose was to recreate a harsh competitive environment that completely condemned capitalism. The ending of his novel, although simplistic and naïve and severely attacked by critics, suggested that socialism would create new incentives and cure the ills of industrialism, a position much like the one Russell would soon adopt. Richard Hofstadter, _Social Darwinism in American Thought, 1860–1915_ (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1944). See also David Noble, _The Paradox of Progressive Thought_ (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1958.)
. Hearst's campaign is described in _The Chief: The Life of William Randolph Hearst_ (New York: Houghton-Mifflin Co., 2000), 168–185. Ralph W. Cram, "A Big Circus Tent for Roosevelt Rally," _Davenport Democrat and Leader,_ 1935. Article supplied to the author by the Davenport Library. Russell and Wallace Rice exchanged numerous letters during this period, mostly discussing poetry. Russell makes various references to meeting Rice at the _American_ offices in Chicago.
. For years critics had assailed the Senate as a bastion of the wealthy. Reformers had long sought direct election of senators, instead of the method then used whereby state legislatures, often notoriously corrupt, chose senators. David Rothman, _Politics and Power: The United States Senate, 1869–1901_ (London: Oxford University Press, 1966). Russell, _Bare Hands,_ 142–143.
. Phillips's articles appeared originally in _Cosmopolitan,_ March to November 1906. They are reprinted in George Mowry and Judson A. Grenier, eds., _The Treason of the Senate (_ Chicago: Quadrangle Books, 1964), and discussed in Robert Miraldi, "The Journalism of David Graham Phillips," Ph.D. dissertation, New York University, 1985, 244–275.
. Quoted from _The Uprising of the Many_ (New York: Doubleday, Page & Co., 1907). The articles appeared originally in _Everybody's_ magazine as "Soldiers of the Common Good," April 1906, 380–383; May, 597–601; June, 753–765; July, 42–55; August, 178–179; September, 340–352; October, 465–482; November, 774–792; December, 3–13. Citations from the articles are taken from _Uprising._
. Russell diary, Russell Papers, Library of Congress. February 21, October 20, 1905. The diary is extremely difficult to read and he does not make entries on a regular basis or even throughout his many months abroad.
. Russell diary. February 21, 1905. Russell, "Coronation Ode," _Twin Immortalities,_ 71. His clear contempt for British caste can be seen in "England's system of snobbery," _Cosmopolitan,_ January 1907, 276–285.
. _Uprising,_ 42, x-xi, 39.
. Russell, _Uprising,_ 66, 68. Russell, "England's system of snobbery," _Cosmopolitan,_ January 1907, 276–285. Russell discussed class distinctions in Europe in "Caste in Various Countries," _Cosmopolitan,_ February 1907, 448–456.
. _Uprising,_ 153. Diary, November 9, 15, Russell Papers. Russell became ill after his trip to India. See article in _New York Herald,_ Paris edition, 1907, in Russell Papers. A feature story about Russell has an accompanying photograph of Russell on an elephant, Frank Marshall White "Charles Edward Russell," _Human Life,_ December 1908. His anger with the British is evident also in Russell, "Caste—Curse of India," _Cosmopolitan,_ December 1906, 276–285. Russell devoted a chapter to New Zealand in his autobiography, _Bare Hands and Stone Walls,_ 171–182
. Russell Diary, Russell Papers, October 23, November 2, 1905. Russell, _Uprising,_ 155. Bernard S. Cohn, _Colonialism and its Forms of Knowledge: The British in India_ (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996).
. Russell, _Uprising,_ 23, 24, 17. He wrote a separate article about the council, "Socialistic Government of London," _Cosmopolitan,_ February 1906, 368–376. In the book version detailing his trip abroad, Russell added a chapter on cooperative movements in America, 26–39, but little in it seems freshly reported or novel as he recounts various communal efforts in America. Throughout this book I have capitalized socialism only when referring to the American Socialist Party.
. Ibid., _Uprising,_ 91.
. Ibid., 101, 100.
. Ibid., 123
. Ibid., 129, 127, 138.
. Ibid. 278, 309, 303, 278, 14. See also Russell, "More Light on the Common Good: How New Zealand Bans Trusts," _The Coming Nation,_ July 22, 1911, 3–4; John Bell Condliffe, _The Welfare State in New Zealand_ (London, Allen & Unwin, 1959). Russell devoted a chapter to New Zealand in _Bare Hands and Stone Walls,_ 171–182.
. Russell, _Uprising,_ 235, 164–165. Neil Harris, _The Land of Contrasts: 1880–1901_ (New York, G. Braziller, 1970)
. In a subsequent meeting at the White House with Lincoln Steffens, Roosevelt indicated that Sinclair and Phillips were his true targets. Lincoln Steffens, _The Autobiography of Lincoln Steffens_ (New York: Harcourt, Brace & Co., 1931), 581. Russell agreed, _Bare Hands,_ 143. But David Nasaw's recent Hearst biography asserts that Hearst was his real target. Most likely, Roosevelt had all three in mind. He wanted to stop the muckrakers and those who subsidized their exposes: Nasaw, _The Chief: The Life of William Randolph Hearst_ (New York: Houghton-Mifflin, 2000), 190–191. See also Judson A. Grenier, "Muckrakers and Muckraking: An Historical Definition," _Journalism Quarterly_ 37 (Autumn 1960): 552–558; and John Semonche, "Theodore Roosevelt's 'Muckrake Speech': A Reassessment," _Mid-America_ 46 (April 1964): 114–125.
. Theodore Roosevelt, "Theodore Roosevelt's Views on Socialism," _Outlook,_ March 20, 1909, 85–86.
. "The Growing Menace of Socialism," _Hampton's,_ January 1909, 4–5.
. A good chronology of muckraking and Progressivism is Louis Filler, _Crusaders for American Liberalism_ (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Co., 1939), 395–402. On Phillips, see Miraldi, ibid. John Semonche, "The American Magazine of 1906–1915: Principle vs. Profit," _Journalism Quarterly_ 40 (Winter 1963): 39–40. Peter Lyon, _Success Story: The Life and Times of S. S. McClure_ (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1963).
. "The Red Game Cock," Bare _Hands,_ 46–56, 52. In the mayoral election, George received more votes than Theodore Roosevelt. Howard H. Quint, _The Forging of American Socialism: Origins of the Modern Movement_ (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1953). Chester McArthur Destler, _Henry Demarest Lloyd and the Empire of Reform_ (Philadelphia, University of Pennsylvania Press, 1963). John L. Thomas, Alternative _America: Henry George, Edward Bellamy, Henry Demarest Lloyd, and the Adversary Tradition_ (Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap/Harvard University Press, 1983). Henry Demarest Lloyd, _Wealth Against Commonwealth_ (New York, Harper, 1894).
. Ghent, _Our Benevolent Feudalism_ (New York: Macmillan Co., 1903) and _Mass and Class, a Survey of Social Divisions_ ((New York: Macmillan Co., 1904).
. Russell, _Bare Hands,_ 205. Morris Hillquit, _Loose Leaves from a Busy Life_ (New York: Dacamp Press, 1924).
. Although Phillips never declared for Socialism, often the leading characters in his popular novels were Socialists. Victor Dorn in _The Conflict_ (New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1911) is a figure much like Socialist leader Eugene V. Debs. Robert Hunter, _Poverty: Social Conscience in the Progressive Era_ (New York: Harper and Row, 1965). Hillquit, 58.
. _Outlook_ 87: 543, November 9, 1907; _Literary Digest_ 35: 678, October 19, 1907; _Review of Reviews_ 36: 758, December 1907; _Dial_ 43: 256, October 16, 1907.
. The muckrakers had styles that varied from factual to literary to advocacy. See Miraldi, _Muckraking and Objectivity: Journalism's Colliding Traditions_ (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1992), 30–46.
. In Russell's Papers, Library of Congress, is a scrapbook with thirty pages of clippings from newspapers across the country. There are various accounts of the rise of socialism. David A. Shannon, _The Socialist Party of America: A History_ (New York: Macmillan, 1955); Daniel Bell, _Marxian Socialism in the United States_ (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1967); James Weinstein, _The Decline of Socialism in America, 1912–1925_ (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1967); Morris Hillquit, _History of Socialism in the United States_ (New York: Russell & Russell, 1965).
. "Chas. E. Russell Joins Socialists," _New York Call,_ October 23; "Chas. Edward Russell Joins Socialists," _Davenport Democrat and Leader,_ October 28; "Russell Now a Socialist," _New York World,_ October 29; "C. E. Russell now an enrolled socialist," _New York Times,_ October 29; "Russell enrolls as a socialist," _New York Tribune,_ October 29; "Charles E. Russell to Join Socialists," _New York American,_ October 29; "Newspaper man Turns Socialist," _Davenport Times,_ October 31; "Russell a Socialist," _St. Louis Globe Democrat,_ November 8, all 1908, clippings in Russell Papers, Library of Congress. _Bare Hands,_ 197.
. Russell, _Why I Am a Socialist_ (New York: George H. Doran Co, 1910), 286; _Bare Hands,_ 191.
. "C. E. Russell on 'Socialism,'" _Yonkers Statesman,_ December 18, 1908, clipping in Russell Papers, Library of Congress.
. Steffens, 632.
. Russell, "The Growing Menace of Socialism," _Hampton's,_ January 1909, 92; _Bare Hands,_ 196; Weinstein, 20; Russell, "The Church and Socialism," pamphlet published by Socialist Party, ca. 1915, Tamiment Library, New York University; Russell, "Socialism: Just Where it Stands To-Day," _Hampton Columbian,_ January 1912, 759.
CHAPTER NINE
. Russell, _Why I Am a Socialist_ (New York: Hodder & Stoughton, George H. Doran Co., 1910), 3, 140. Accounts of life in lower Manhattan can be found in Moses Rischlin, _The Promised City: New York's Jews, 1870–1914_ (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1962) and Irving Howe, _World of Our Fathers_ (New York: Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich, 1976).
. Russell's three articles are "Trinity: Church of Mystery," _The New Broadway Magazine,_ April 1908, 1–12, subsequently referred to as "Mystery"; "Trinity Corporation: A Riddle of Riches," _The Broadway Magazine,_ May 1908, 187–195, referred to as "Trinity"; and "Tenements of Trinity Church," _Everybody's,_ July 1908, 47–57, referred to as "Tenements." For a history of the church, see Clifford P. Morehouse, _Trinity: Mother of Churches: An Informal History of Trinity Parish in the City of New York_ (New York: Seabury Press, 1973).
. Russell, "Tenements," 47. _Bare Hands,_ 94. Discussions of Progressive attitudes toward housing and poverty are in Roy Lubove, _The Progressives and the Slums: Tenement House Reform in New York City, 1890–1917_ (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1962), and Robert Bremner, _From the Depths: The Discovery of Poverty in the United States_ (New York: New York University Press, 1956).
. Russell, "Trinity," 195.
. Russell, "The Cry of the Slums," _Everybody's,_ December 1907, photographs of the slums by Bessie March and a short essay by Russell and "The Slum as a National Asset," _Everybody's,_ February 1909.
. Lincoln Steffens, The _Shame of the Cities_ (New York: Hill and Wang, 1957). Steffens's life is chronicled in Justin Kaplan, _Lincoln Steffens: A Biography_ (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1974). Steffens tells his story in _The Autobiography of Lincoln Steffens_ (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1931). Tarbell's expose is reprinted in _The History of Standard Oil_ (New York: McClure, Phillips & Co., 1904). Her life is recounted in Kathleen Brady, _Ida M. Tarbell_ (New York: Macmillan, 1984) and in her autobiography, _All in a Day's Work_ (New York: Macmillan, 1939).
. The best account of the muckraking movement is still Louis Filler, _The Muckrakers_ (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1976). A recent account of various episodes in the muckraking saga is Robert Miraldi, ed., _The Muckrakers: Evangelical Crusaders_ (Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 2001).
. Phillips's articles are reprinted in _The Treason of the Senate,_ eds. George Mowry and Judson A. Grenier (Chicago: Quadrangle Books, 1964), which has a fine introduction by Mowry and Grenier. The articles are analyzed also in Robert Miraldi, "The Journalism of David Graham Phillips," Ph.D. dissertation, New York University 1985: 242–275, and Miraldi, "The Journalism of David Graham Phillips," _Journalism Quarterly_ 63, No. 1 (Spring 1986): 83–88. Russell was originally supposed to write the Treason articles. _Bare Hands and Stone Walls_ (New York: Scribner's Sons, 1933), 143–144.
. Roosevelt's speech is reprinted verbatim in _Bookman_ 33 (March 1911), 12, and in David Graham Phillips, _The Treason of the Senate,_ eds. George Mowry and Judson A. Grenier (Chicago: Quadrangle, 1964), 216–225. A good discussion of the speech's development is in Grenier, "Muckrakers and Muckraking: An Historical Definition," _Journalism Quarterly_ 37 (Autumn 1960).
. _Bare Hands,_ 143.
. On Phillips's assassination, see Louis Filler, "Murder in Gramercy Park," _Antioch Review_ 11 (December 1946), 495–508.
. _Bare Hands,_ 144, 146. Filler, _Crusaders,_ 260. On the reasons why muckraking fades, see Miraldi, "Muckrakers are Chased Away," _Muckraking and Objectivity: Journalism's Colliding Traditions_ (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1991), 57–80.
. The magazine was originally called _Hampton's_ but changed its name a number of times, owing mostly to financial problems that beset Benjamin Hampton. The problems of the muckraking magazines are traced in Peter Barry, "The Decline of Muckraking: A View From the Magazines," Ph.D. dissertation, Wayne State University, 1973.
. Russell, "Autobiography of an Author. Chas. E. Russell Tells About Himself," _Notes on Books and Authors_ (Doubleday, Page & Co.'s, no date), Russell Papers, Library of Congress.
. "Tenements," 48. Attempts to improve housing in New York in general and not just that of Trinity's, had been taking place since the 1880s when, under the leadership of Richard Watson Gilder, various groups and city commissions proposed legislation. Russell noted Gilder's work in a letter to the _New York Times,_ "Tenement Reform," May 8, 1909, 6. And Gilder summarized Trinity's housing record in a letter to the _New York Evening Post,_ "Trinity and the Tenements," December 28, 1908. On the evolution of tenement reform, see Richard Plunz, _A History of Housing in New York City_ (New York: Columbia University Press, 1990) and James Ford, _Slums and Housing_ (Westport, Conn.: Negro Universities Press, 1936). Lincoln Steffens's "Shame of the Cities" appeared originally in _McClure's,_ beginning in October 1902.
. "Tenements," 52. Ibid., 56–7.
. Russell, "Trinity's Tenements—The Public's Business," _Everybody's,_ February 1909, 279.
. Russell, _Business: The Heart of the Nation_ (New York: John Lane Co., 1911), 177, 197.
. Letter to the _Times,_ note 15. "Trinity's Tenements, 279.
. "Tenements," 54.
. Various histories discuss Trinity. See Morehouse, note 2; John C. Goodbody, _One Peppercorn: A Popular History of the Parish at Trinity Church_ (New York: Parish of Trinity Church, 1982); _A History of the Parish of Trinity Church in the City of New York,_ ed. Morgan Dix (New York: Putnam, 1898).
. "Mystery," 5, 6.
. Dix attacked the press in a long letter to the _Churchman,_ December 22, 1894. 834–835, in which he defended the church leaders. Russell's responses are in "Trinity," 194.
. Ibid., 190–191.
. "Trinity," 1, 8.
. "Tenements," 47. "Mystery," 5. "Tenements," 47, 52, 57.
. Baker, "The Case Against Trinity," _American,_ May 1909, 15. The article became part of Baker's book on religion, _The Spiritual Unrest_ (New York: Frederick A. Stokes, 1910), 1–48. On Dix's death, _New York Times,_ April 30, 1908, 1, and Russell, _Bare Hands,_ 147. _Call,_ June 26, 1908. Satirical cartoons about Trinity appeared also in the evening _New York World,_ January 6, 1909, and the _New York Evening Mail,_ January 20, 1909. Summaries and reactions to the article appeared in the _Houston Post, Columbus Journal, Seattle Times, Arkansas Gazette,_ and _Springfield Republican,_ among others. Clippings in Russell Papers.
. Baker, ibid., 3.
. Cammann made this statement to the _New York Evening Post;_ reprinted in _The Churchman,_ August 15, 1908, 10.
. That the muckrakers were generally moderate can be seen from the work of David M. Chalmers, _The Social and Political Ideas of the Muckrakers_ (New York: Citadel, 1964). A good summary of the views and interpretations of muckraking is Harry H. Stein, "American Muckrakers and Muckraking: The 50–Year Scholarship," _Journalism Quarterly_ 56 (Spring 1979): 9–17, and Filler, "The Muckrakers in Flower and Failure," _Essays in American Historiography,_ ed. Harvey Shapiro (Boston: Heath and Co., 1968).
. On the various approaches to writing by the muckrakers, see Miraldi, _Muckraking and Objectivity,_ 23–56. The quotation from Baker, "The Case Against Trinity," ibid., 15. On Baker's life and work, see John Semonche, _Ray Stannard Baker: A Quest for Democracy in Modern America, 1870–1918_ (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1969) and Robert C. Bannister, Jr., _Ray Stannard Baker: The Mind and Thought of a Progressive_ (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1966). On the "information" mode, see Michael Schudson, _Discovering the News_ (New York: Basic Books, 1978). Russell, "The Slum as a National Asset," 180.
. "Trinity's Tenements," a report compiled and published by Trinity, written by Dinwiddie, 2. A copy of the report was supplied to the author by the church. A slightly different version of the report was reprinted as "The Truth About Trinity's Tenements," _Survey V._ 23, February 26, 1910. Dinwiddie's comment is not in that version.
. Ibid., 15.
. "To Have Charge of Trinity Tenements," _The Common Welfare,_ 1912, 145–146. "Manning Hits Back at Trinity Critics," _New York Times,_ April 19, 1909, 9.
. Charles T. Bridgeman, _A History of the Parish of Trinity Church in the City of New York_ (New York: Trinity Church, 1962), 119. Bridgeman discusses the St. John's controversy, 77–101. Manning's comments are in the _New York Times,_ ibid.
. "Trinity Explains How It Uses Funds," _New York Times,_ January 2, 1909, 1, 5. Bridgeman discusses the church's finances, 128–131. _The St. Louis Mirror_ wrote an editorial on Trinity; quoted in "A Notable Victory for Publicity," _Printers' Ink,_ January 27, 1909, 36. Based on correspondence with the former librarian of Trinity's archives, the author believes that the church has copies of not only the original reports made on the 1908 controversy but a number of internal memos that discuss the church's actions. In 1992 the church temporarily closed its archives, however, and church officials refused to respond to numerous written and telephone requests for access to the documents.
. "Trinity Will Sell All Its Real Estate," _New York Times,_ February 7, 1909, 1.
. "Manning Hits Back at Trinity Critics," _New York Times,_ April 19, 1909, 9. Russell, _Bare Hands,_ 146.
. Bridgeman describes the improvements made by the church in its properties and the favorable response of the New York media, 125–126.
. Russell, _A Pioneer Editor in Early Iowa_ (Washington, D.C.: Runsdell, 1941), 8.
CHAPTER TEN
. The story or the Progressive Era is told by various historians, although, as Irwin Unger and Debi Unger point out, "The concept of Progressivism turns out to be curiously elusive." _The Vulnerable Years: The United States, 1896–1917_ (New York: New York University Press, 1978). See also William O'Neill, _The Progressive Years: America Comes of Age_ (New York: Harper and Row, 1975); Eric Goldman, _Rendezvous with Destiny_ (New York: Vintage, 1959); Gabriel Kolko, _The Triumph of Conservatism_ (Glencoe, Ill.: The Free Press, 1963); James Weinstein, _The Corporate Ideal in the Liberal State, 1900–1918_ (Boston: Beacon Books, 1968); David Noble, _The Paradox of Progressive Thought_ (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1958).
. Letter from Steffens to Upton Sinclair, September 25, 1932, in Ella Winter and Granville Hicks, eds., _The Letters of Lincoln Steffens,_ V. 2 (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1938), 928.
. Russell, _Lawless Wealth_ (New York: B. W. Dodge & Co., 1908), 287.
. Letter from Steffens to Ray Stannard Baker, March 3, 1904, quoted in Robert C. Bannister, Jr., _Ray Stannard Baker: The Mind and Thought of a Progressive_ (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1966), 106. Herbert Shapiro, "The Muckrakers and Negroes," _Phylon_ 31 (1970), 78.
. Steffens, "What the Matter is in America and What to Do About it," _Everybody's,_ June 1908, 723.
. Russell, "Rockefeller—An Estimate of the Man," _Human Life,_ January 1908, 9, 11.
) Russell, "Morgan—Master of the Money Mart," _Human Life,_ May 1908, 7.
. Russell, "Forward Citizens to the Firing Line," _Everybody's,_ November 1908, 707.
. The article appeared originally as Russell, "A Burglar in the Making," E _verybody's,_ June 1908, 753–760, hereafter referred to as "Burglar." It is reprinted in Arthur and Lila Weinberg, eds., _The Muckrakers_ (New York: Capricorn, 1964), 322–337. Russell encountered prison conditions as a reporter twenty-five years earlier as he recounts in "One Woman Who Has Done Great Work," _Human Life,_ December 1908, 7–8, 29.
. Russell, "Burglar," 754, 759. W. E. B. Du Bois, "The Spawn of Slavery: The Convict Lease System in the South," _Missionary Review,_ October 1901, 737–738.
. Russell, "Burglar," 759. "Forward Citizens to the Firing Line," _Everybody's,_ November 1908, 709. Russell reached similar conclusions when he wrote about New York City's courts and prisons. See Russell, "The Night Court of New York," _Human Life,_ September 1909, 7–8, 30.
. Russell, "Beating Men to Make Them Good," _Hampton's,_ October 1908, 486; "Burglar," 755.
. "Burglar," 756.
. Ibid., 759, 760.
. McKelway, "The convict lease system of Georgia," _Outlook,_ September 12, 1908, 72. "Attacks 'Neer Beer' and Convict System," _Atlanta Constitution,_ July 20, 1908, 3.
. "Men Are Named to Apply Probe," _Atlanta Constitution,_ July 18, 1908, 7; Weinberg, 323.
. "Report Made on Convicts," July 11, 1908, 4. "Men Are Named to Apply Probe," July 18, 1908, 7. "Convict Probe Under Way by Committee," July 22, 1908, 1; "Stories of Cruelty to State Convicts Told to Committee," July 23, 1908, 1,5, all in the _Atlanta Constitution._
. Blake McKelvey, _American Prisons: A Study in American Social History Prior to 1915_ (Montclair, N.J., Patterson Smith, 1968 [1936]), 71. The _Atlanta Constitution_ made the plea twice in editorials: "Get Away from the Lease System," July 15, 1908, 6, and "The Convicts and the Good Roads situation," July 18, 1908, 8.
. Quoted in Weinberg, 323. No one account details the Georgia reform of its prison system. However, see "Georgia's Convict Lease System Remedied," no author, _The Common Welfare,_ September 26, 1908, v. 20, 721. _Thirteenth Annual Report, Prison Commission of Georgia_ (Atlanta: The Commission), June 1909–May 1910 was circumspect, simply noting that prisoners were now on road gangs and that "there is careful watch on the part of competent Inspectors to see that there are no abuses," 97. Bill Herring, "Rise, Fall and Rebirth of the Georgia State Penitentiary, 1816–1946: A Social and Legislative History of Georgia State Penitentiary," Ph.D. dissertation, Valdosta State College, 1993.
. "Russell, "Beating Men to Make Them Good: Signs of a Better Era for Those that Go Wrong," October 1909, 486, 491. Russell's other two articles were "Beating Men to Make Them Good: An Illuminating Glance Behind the Walls of American Prisons," September 1908, 312–323, and "Beating Men to Make Them Good: the Decline of the Punishing Idea," November 1908, 609–620.
. Russell, _The Passing Show of Capitalism_ (Girard, Kansas: The Appeal to Reason, 1912), 19; Russell, "Beating Men," October, 494; November, 617.
. On prison history, see John Bartlow Martin, _Break Down the Walls; American Prisons: Present, Past, and Future, 1915–1987 (_ New York, Ballantine Books, 1954), Mark Colvin, _Penitentiaries, and Chain Gangs: Social Theory and the History of Punishment in Nineteenth-Century America_ (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1997); and McKelvey.
. "Beating Men," October, 495, 485, 491 494.
. Ibid., 496.
. David M. Chalmers discusses the importance of concentrated wealth for the muckrakers in "Law, Justice and the Muckrakers," _Muckraking: Past, Present and Future,_ eds., John M. Harrison and Harry H. Stein (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1973), 77. Russell, "Forward Citizens to the Firing Line," _Everybody's,_ November 1908, 709.
. The most comprehensive account of the Springfield riot is Roberta Senechal, _The Sociogenesis of a Race Riot: Springfield, Illinois in 1908_ (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1990). See also James Crouthemal, "The Springfield Race Riot of 1908," _Journal of Negro History_ 45 (July 1960): 164–181.
. Senechal, 1.
. David Levering Lewis, _W. E. B. Du Bois: Biography of a Race, 1868–1919_ (New York: Henry Holt & Co., 1993), 387.
. James Boylan, _Revolutionary Lives: Anna Strunsky and William English Walling_ (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1998).
. Russell, "Rockefeller—An Estimate of the Man," and "Morgan—Master of the Money Mart," notes 6 and 7, and "Samuel Gompers, Labor Leader," April 1909, 6–7. See also "Philander Chase Knox—the New Secretary of State," May 1909, 7–8; "Senator Platt—The Yaller Hawk of Politics," July 1908, 7–9; "One Woman Who Has Done a Great Work," December 1908, 7–8; "The Mystery of Edward the Seventh," November 1908, 5–6; "Dr. Parkhurst, Preacher & Man," February 1909, 5–7; and "The Next King of Erford," November 1909, 5–6, all in _Human Life._
. Robert C. Bannister, Jr., "Race Relations and the Muckrakers," in _The Muckrakers: Past, Present and Future._ As John Hope Franklin wrote, "The Negroes could look neither to the White House nor to the muckrakers for substantial assistance." _From Slavery to Freedom,_ 2nd ed. (New York: Knopf, 1956).
. E. C. Stickel to Russell, May 14, 1904, Russell Papers, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C. Noted also in Bannister, note 29, 431.
. Baker, _Following the Color Line: American Negro Citizenship in the Progressive Era_ (New York: Doubleday, Page and Co., 1908), 117–118. Bannister, ibid., 54.
. Russell's comments came in a speech, reprinted in Anna Strunsky et al., _William English Walling: A Symposium_ (New York: Stackpole Sons, 1938), 75–76.
. "The Race War in the North," _Independent_ 65 (September 3, 1908), 530–531.
. Ibid., 529. Boylan, 154.
. Walling, ibid., 534.
. Walling quote, speech by Russell, Chicago, November 1912, Russell Papers. Boylan, ibid., 156. Russell, _Bare Hands and Stone Walls_ (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1933), 225.
. Russell retells this story in _A Pioneer Editor in Early Iowa: A Sketch of the Life of Edward Russell_ (Washington, D.C.: Ransdell Inc., 1941), 29, passim.
. Russell made these comments in a speech, "National Unity, National Defense and the Color Line," January 26, 1941, to the Inter-racial Committee of the District of Columbia. In Russell Papers.
. Russell, _Pioneer Editor,_ ibid., 13; "About Race Prejudice," _Coming Nation,_ August 12, 1911, 1.
. Russell, _Bare Hands,_ ibid., 227, 224. Speech, "Address of Charles Edward Russell," no date, Russell Papers.
. Russell, ibid., 224. For a discussion of the Niagara movement, see Lewis, ibid., 297–342.
. Lewis, 389. The call is reprinted as an appendix to Warren St. James, _The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People: A Case Study in Pressure Groups_ (New York, Exposition Press, 1958), 166–167. Russell speech, "Leaving It to the South." Oswald Garrison Villard, _Fighting Years: Memoirs of Liberal Editor_ (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Co., 1939).
. Russell notes his trip through the South in _Why I Am A Socialist_ (New York: George H. Doran Co., 1910) 83, 93. White, _The Walls Came Tumbling Down_ (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Co., 1947), 107. Walling, "The Founding of the N.A.A.C.P.," _The Crisis,_ July 1929, 226. Other accounts of the early history of the NAACP include Charles F. Kellogg, _NAACP: A History of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People,_ Vol. 1, 1909–1920 (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1967); Langston Hughes, _Fight for Freedom: The Story of the NAACP_ (New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 1962); and Robert L. Jack, _History of the NAACP_ (Boston: Meador Publishing Co., 1943).
. _Walling Symposium,_ 98; _Bare Hands,_ 225–226.
. Ovington, ibid., 105.
. _Proceedings of the National Negro Conference,_ 1909 (New York: Arno Press, 1969), 98. _Bare Hands,_ 226–227.
. Du Bois, _The Autobiography of W. E B. Du Bois_ (New York: International Publishers, 1968), 391. Ovington, ibid., 105.
. _Bare Hands,_ 219.
. Louis R. Harlan, _Booker T. Washington: The Wizard of Tuskegee, 1901–1915_ (New York: Oxford, 1983); Lewis 394.
. Stephen R. Fox, _The Guardian of Boston: William Monroe Trotter_ (New York: Atheneum, 1972); Ovington, 106; _Proceedings,_ 104; Russell speech, "Leaving It to the South," National Association of Colored People reprint, no date.
. Russell, T _he Passing Show of Capitalism,_ 156.
. Lewis, 395; "To Raise $500,000 for a Negro Uplift," _New York Times,_ June 2, 1910, 9.
. Ovington, 107; Barnett, _Crusade for Justice: The Autobiography of Ida B. Wells_ (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970), 325; Lewis 398.
. Du Bois, _Dusk of Dawn: An Essay Toward an Autobiography of a Race Concept_ (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Co., 1940), 271. The effectiveness of the NAACP can be seen, for example, in August Meier and John H. Bracey, Jr., "The NAACP as a Reform Movement, 1900–1965: 'To Reach the Conscience of America,'" _Journal of Southern History_ 49 (February 1993): 3–30; and Robert L Zangrando, _The NAACP Crusade Against Lynching, 1909–1950_ (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1980).
. Russell, _Bare Hands,_ 225, _Walling Symposium,_ 78; "About Race Prejudice," 1.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
. "Charles Edward Russell, Socialist Candidate for Governor," _New York Times,_ August 30, 1910, Part 5, 5.
. Daniel Bell, _Marxian Socialism in the United States_ (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1967), 55.
. "Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen?" _Everybody's,_ August, 201–211; September, 348–360; October, 503–511; November, 636–645; December, 118–127, 1907.
. "Mr. C. E. Russell and Muckraking," _Cleveland Plain Dealer,_ July 12, 1908; _New York Times,_ June 27, 1908. Found in Russell Papers, Library of Congress.
. Steffens, _The Autobiography of Lincoln Steffens_ (New York: Harcourt, Brace & Co., 1931), 575. From Russell's weekly column in _The Coming Nation,_ October 1, 1910 in Russell Papers. Many of his columns, which appeared for two years, are reprinted in _The Passing Show of Capitalism_ (Girard, Kansas: The Appeal to Reason, 1912).
. _The Coming Nation_ and other Socialist publications are discussed in James Weinstein, _The Decline of Socialism in America_ (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1967), 84–92. Hillquit, _Loose Leaves from a Busy Life_ (New York: Da Capo Press, 1971), 91.
. Russell, "Rational Political Action," _International Socialist Review,_ March 1912, 2. _The Story of Wendell Phillips_ (Chicago: Charles H. Kerr, 1914), 184. _Coming Nation,_ January 28, 1911, 2.
. Frank Marshall White, "Charles Edward Russell," _Human Life,_ December 1908, 88; _Why I Am a Socialist_ (New York: George H. Doran Co, 1910), 17. Bell, 56–57.
. Russell, _Why I Am a Socialist,_ 99, _The Passing Show of Capitalism,_ 70.
. Russell, "What About Stuyvesant Fish?" _Human Life,_ April 1908, 6. "The Passing of the Poorhouse," _The Broadway Magazine,_ December 1908, 744. _Lawless Wealth_ (New York, B. W. Dodge & Co., 1908), 168–169.
. Russell, _Why I Am a Socialist,_ 4; _The Coming Nation,_ June 19, 1910, 4; December 2, 1911, 4.
. "Claims drink is boon to real poor," _Philadelphia Record,_ March 11, 1908; "Rum the only relief of starving poor," _Philadelphia Telegraph,_ March 11, 1908; "Would give the poor rum," _New York World,_ March 24, 1908. All in Russell Papers.
. Russell, _Why I Am a Socialist,_ 146, 140, 162, 57; _Coming Nation,_ December 24, 2.
. Russell, _Why I Am a Socialist,_ 77, 79.
. "The Price the Woman Pays," _The Redbook,_ November 1908, 33, 48; "Billions for Bad Blue Blood," September 1908, 610–624. The third article was "The Curse of the Coronet," October 1908, 785–800. These articles are very similar to David Graham Phillips's "Swollen Fortunes," December 22, 1907, 3–4, and January 12, 1907, 10–11, 29–30, and "Curing Rich Americans," May 13, 14–15, 35, all in the _Saturday Evening Post._
. Russell, _Why I Am a Socialist,_ 89, 283. _Coming Nation,_ December 2, 1911, 2.
. Russell, "Socialism: Just Where It Stands To-day," _Hampton-Columbian,_ January, 1912, 761; _Why I Am a Socialist,_ 283, 286. "The Growing Menace of Socialism," _Hampton's,_ January 1909, 14.
. Compare Russell's comment with that of Ray Stannard Baker, who said, "The people need "economic facts." Quoted in David Mark Chalmers, _The Social and Political Ideas of the Muckrakers_ (New York: Citadel, 1964) from the notebooks of Baker, note 13, 122. _Coming Nation,_ April 29, 1910, May 10, 1911.
. Ibid., 157; Russell "At the Election," January, 1908, 259–271; "At the Throat of the Republic: After the Election," 361–368, all in _Cosmopolitan._
. Russell, "Postscript—The Election of 1907," 480. _Bare Hands and Stone Walls_ (New York: C. Scribner's Sons, 1933), 140–141.
. Russell, "What Are You Going to Do About it? Graft as an Expert Trade in Pittsburg [sic]," August 1910, 292. The other articles are "Legislative Graft and the Albany Scandal," July, 146–160; "The Jack-Pot in Illinois Legislation," September, 466–478; "The Man the Interests Wanted," October 1910, 592–601; "Colorado—New Tricks in an Old Game," December, 45–58. "Senator Gore's Strange Bribe Story," January 151–162, all in _Cosmopolitan._
. "Russell for Governor," _New York Times,_ August 20, 1910, 2. "What the Socialist Candidate for Governor of New York has to Say in Accepting Nomination." Copy of speech in Russell Papers.
. "Russell Opens Campaign," _New York Times,_ August 22, 1910, 4; _Bare Hands and Stone Walls,_ 215, 216.
. "Henry L. Stimson, Republican Nominee for Governor," _New York Times,_ October 2, 1911, Part 6, 5. Godfrey Hodgson, _The Colonel: The Life and Wars of Henry Stimson, 1867–1950_ (New York: Knopf, 1990), 71.
. "Socialists meet in Union Square," _New York Times, October_ 2, 1910, 2; "Battery crowd cheers Russell," _New York Call,_ October 5 1910, 1.
. "Russell Rouses Brooklyn Crowd," _New York Call,_ October 8, 1910, 1; "Socialist Speakers Fill Opera House," _Call,_ October 24, 1910, 2; "Russell Pillories both Old Parties," _Call,_ October 25, 1910, 2; "Russell Addresses Two Big Meetings," _Call,_ 1.
. "Socialism and the National Crisis," Speech at Carnegie Hall, October 15, 1910, copy in the Russell Papers. Russell had actually come out strongly in favor of women's voting rights in 1908. See "Obstructions in the Way of Justice," speech to annual convention of the National American Woman Suffrage Association, October 20, 1908. Russell Papers. On women and socialism, see Weinstein, 53–62.
. "Socialist Growth Enthuses Russell," _New York Call,_ Nov. 1, 1910, 1.
. "Charles Edward Russell, Socialist Candidate for Governor," _New York Times,_ August 30, 1910, Part 5, 5.
. Ibid. Russell's positions were common among Socialists, dating back to before the turn of the century. See Bell, 53–54.
31. "Russell Speaks on Real Issues," Call, November 7, 1910, 1.
32. Russell, Bare Hands, 200.
33. Russell to Algernon Lee, November 9, 1910, Lee Papers, Tamiment Institute, New York University.
CHAPTER TWELVE
. Russell, _Stories of the Great Railroads_ (Chicago: C. H. Kerr & Co., 1912), _Railroad Melons, Rates and Wages: A Handbook of Railroad Information_ (Chicago: C. H. Kerr & Co., 1922). Kathleen Brady, Ida _Tarbell: Portrait of a Muckraker_ (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1989), 22.
. Gabriel Kolko, _Railroads and Regulation, 1877–1916_ (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1965); Leo Marx, _The Machine in the Garden; Technology and the Pastoral Ideal in America_ (New York: Oxford University Press, 1964); Samuel Hays, _The Response to Industrialism, 1885–1914_ (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1957); Frank Norris, _The Octopus: A Story of California_ (New York, Doubleday, Page & Co., 1901).
. Russell, "Wall Street Greed and Railroad Ruin," _Ridgway's,_ December 29, 1906, 13, 14. See also Russell, "Seven Kings in Mexico," _Cosmopolitan,_ July 1907, 271–279. Louis Filler, _Crusaders for American Liberalism_ (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Co., 1939), 203–216.
. His articles were collected in _The Stories of the Great Railroads_ but appeared originally in _Hampton's:_ "Great Millionaire's Mill," April, 478–491; "Winning and Empire and the Cost of Winning," _Hampton's,_ May, 603–617; "Scientific Corruption of Politics," June, 843–858; "Speaking of Widows and Orphans, " _Hampton's,_ July, 79–92; "Remedy of the Law," August, 217–230; "Railroad Machine as it Works Now," September, 364–376; "Surrender of New England," December, 759–770; "Paying of the Bill," October, 507–520; all 1910; and "Speed," October, 444–576, 1911.
. Russell, _Lawless Wealth_ (New York: B. W. Dodge & Co., 1908), 9, 62; _Stories of the Great Railroads,_ 451, 56. Russell's articles on the rails appeared initially in _Hampton's._ Citations here are from the book version.
. The Northern Securities merger is treated in many Progressive Era histories. See Jean Strouse, _Morgan: American Financier_ (New York: Random House, 1999), 438–443, 460–463, 533–535.
. Russell, _Stories of the Great Railroads,_ 13, 23.
. Ibid., 28, 32.
. Ibid., 43, 46, 38, 56.
. Stewart Hall Holbrook, _James J. Hill: A Great Life in Brief_ (New York: Knopf, 1955) covered much the same ground as Russell and concluded that Hill was a mixed character. Other biographies of Hill include Martin Albro, _James J. Hill and the Opening of the Northwest_ (New York: Oxford University Press, 1976); Joseph Gilpin Pyle, _The Life of James J. Hill,_ (Gloucester, Mass., P. Smith, 1968 [1944]); and Glenn Chesney Quiett, _They Built the West: An Epic of Rails and Cities_ (New York, London, D. Appleton-Century Company, 1934).
. Russell, _Stories of the Great Railroads,_ 23, 127, 160. On Huntington, see Oscar Lewis, _The Big Four: The Story of Huntington, Stanford, Hopkins, and Crocker, and of the Building of the Central Pacific_ (New York: A. A. Knopf, 1938), and David Lavender, _The Great Persuader_ (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1970).
. Ibid., 100, 101. For examples of business reaction, see Robert D. Reynolds, "The 1906 Campaign to Sway Muckraking Periodicals," _Journalism Quarterly_ 56 (Autumn 1979): 513–520.
. Russell describes the reaction in an epilogue to _Stories of the Great Railroads._ Other Russell quotations, 321, 332.
. Upton Sinclair, _The Brass Check: A Study of American Journalism_ (Pasadena, Calif.: The author, 1919), 231.
. Russell, _Stories of the Great Railroads,_ 7. Hampton to Russell, December 20, 1910, Russell Papers, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
. Russell, "The Magazine Soft Pedal," _Pearson's,_ February 1914, 180. Russell tells in detail the story of _Hampton's_ demise in this article, 187–189. Filler, _Crusaders,_ retells the story, 366–368. Russell, _The Coming Nation,_ February 25, 1911, 1.
. Newsman Walter Lippmann said he was told many times about such a conspiracy. _Drift and Mastery:_ A _n Attempt to Diagnose the Current Unrest_ (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1985), 3. Filler, _Crusaders,_ 359, accepts the theory also.
. Russell, "The Magazine Soft Pedal," 182. Mark Sullivan, _Education of an American_ (New York: Doubleday, Doran & Co.1938), 286–287.
. The rise and fall of muckraking is described in Peter Barry, "The Decline of Muckraking: A View from the Magazines," Ph.D. dissertation., Wayne State University, 1973. See also Miraldi, "The Muckrakers are Chased Away," _Muckraking and Objectivity: Journalism's Colliding Traditions_ (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1990), 23–80 and Michael D. Marcaccio, "Did a Business Conspiracy End Muckraking?" A Reexamination," _Historian_ 47 (November 1984): 58–71.
. _Stories of the Great Railroads,_ 133.
. Kreuter, 585.
. Russell, _Bare Hands and Stone Walls_ (New York: C. Scribner's Sons, 1933), 198. Russell to Algernon Lee, November 9, 1910, Lee Papers, Tamiment Institute, New York University.
. David A. Shannon, _The Socialist Party of America: A History_ (New York: Macmillan, 1955), 71. Victor Berger to A. M. Simons, December 6, 1909, New York Socialist Papers, Tamiment Institute, New York University. James Boylan, _Revolutionary Lives: Anna Strunsky and William English Walling_ (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Hospital, 1998), 168–170.
. "Samuel Gompers, labor leader," _Human Life,_ April 1910, 7. See "John R. Commons, "Karl Marx and Samuel Gompers," _Political Science Quarterly_ (June 1926): 282–286.
. Russell, "Growing Menace of Socialism," _Hampton's,_ January 1909, 14.
. Typewritten note on bottom of a letter, Myers to Julius Gerber, July 22, 1912, New York Socialist Papers, Tamiment Institute. Debs is quoted in Nick Salvatore, _Eugene V. Debs, Citizen and Socialist_ (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1982), 249.
. Russell, _Bare Hands and Stone Walls,_ 199. "What Next?" _International Socialist Review,_ January 1913, 334. Milton Cantor, _The Divided Left: American Radicalism, 1900–1975_ (New York: Hill and Wang, 1978).
. Louis Filler, "Murder in Gramercy Park," _Antioch Review_ 11, December 1946. Brisbane to Russell, May 1, 1935, Russell Papers, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
. Russell, _Business: The Heart of the Nation_ (New York: John Lane Co., 1911). Russell to Gerber, April 2, 1912 and March 22, 1912, New York Socialist Papers, Tamiment Institute.
. Russell comments on Roosevelt, Taft, and socialism, November 25, 1911 and October 22, 1911, all in _Coming Nation._
. See also Ray Ginger, _The Bending Cross: A Biography of Eugene Victor Debs_ (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1949; rpt. Thomas Jefferson University Press at Northeast Missouri State University: Kirkville, Missouri, 1992) H. Wayne Morgan, _Eugene V. Debs, Socialist for President_ (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1962). The tally of Socialist gains was compiled by William Ghent in an undated 1911 memo, New York Socialist Papers, Tamiment Institute. Russell, October 22, 1911, _Coming Nation._
. Russell, _Socialism the Only Remedy_ (New York: The Socialist Party, 1912), 20. William H. Carwadine, _The Pullman Strike_ (Chicago: Charles H. Kerr and Company, 1973). Russell to Fred Warren, April 13, 1913, Haldeman Papers, Indiana University.
. Socialist Party of America Papers, _National Convention of the Socialist Party Held at Indianapolis, Indiana, May 12 to 18, 1912._ Chicago, 1912, 33.
. Ibid. A lengthy and detailed description of the convention is "The National Socialist Convention of 1912," _International Socialist Review,_ June 1912, 807–831.
. Ibid., 102.
. Ibid., 99, 135.
. Ibid., 122, 129.
. Ibid., 130–131. Peter Carlson, _Roughneck: The Life and Times of Big Bill Haywood_ (New York: W.W. Norton, 1983), and Joseph Robert Conlin, _Big Bill Haywood and the Radical Union Movement_ (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1969). Sally M. Miller, _Victor Berger and the Promise of Constructive Socialism, 1910–1920_ (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1973).
. Russell, "What Next?" _International Socialist Review,_ January 1913, 526.
. Various histories of the socialist movement interpret the divides in the party differently. Some see them along regional lines, while others cite the split over violence; some emphasize the question of reform versus revolution; still others stress the personality clashes. The truth is that all of these splits fractured the party. I have used the following to understand socialism: Ira Kipnis, _The American Socialist Movement, 1897–1912_ (New York: Columbia University Press, 1952); Daniel Bell, _Marxian Socialism in the United States_ (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1967); James Weinstein, _The Decline of Socialism in America, 1912–1925_ (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1967); Albert Fried, ed., _Socialism in America: From the Shakers to the Third International_ (New York: Doubleday & Co., 1970); and Milton Cantor, _The Divided Left: American Radicalism, 1900–1975_ (New York: Hill & Wang, 1978).
. Russell, "What Comes of Playing the Game," 31, and Debs, "Danger Ahead for the Socialist Party in Playing the Game of Politics," _International Socialist Review,_ January 1911.
. Salvatore, 223.
. "The National Socialist Convention of 1912," 828.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
. Russell wrote Marlowe's biography, _Julia Marlowe, Her Life and Art_ (New York, London: D. Appleton and Co., 1927). Russell tired to convince Marlowe to become involved in social issues but failed. See Russell to Marlowe, April 15, 1912, Marlowe-Sothern Papers, New York Public Library. Redmond & Co. to Julia Marlowe, June 25, 1913, Marlowe-Sothern Papers.
. Russell to Marlowe, April 15, 1912, Marlowe-Sothern Papers. Donald Bragaw believes that Russell was "betraying his cause, his beliefs and his fellow workers of the world." "Solider for the Common Good," Ph.D. dissertation, Syracuse University, 1971, 226.
. Russell to Fred Warren, May 1, 1929, Haldeman Papers, Indiana University.
. Jacob Alexis Friedman, _The Impeachment of Governor William Sulzer_ (New York: Columbia University Press, 1939), 15–37.
. Russell, _Socialism: The Only Remedy_ (New York: the Socialist Party, 1912), 2.
. Ibid., 12. G. Wallace Chessman, "The Needs of Labor," _Governor Theodore Roosevelt: The Albany Apprenticeship, 1898–1900_ (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1965), 221–225. Chessman writes a chapter that portrays Roosevelt as sympathetic to the needs of workers.
. "Russell Slashes Bull Moose Party," _New York Times,_ October 4, 1912, 6.
. Roosevelt to William Howard Taft, March 13, 1906, _Letters of Roosevelt_ 5, ed. Elting S. Morrison (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1952), 183–184.
. "Says Colonel Asked $100,000 of Morgan," _New York Times,_ September 2, 1912, 1. "Asked Morgan for $100,000 for TR's Fund, says Russell," _The Call,_ September 2, 1912, 1. "Russell Testifies at Senate Inquiry," _New York Times,_ October 8, 1912. 1.
. "Socialists Cheer Debs 29 Minutes," _New York Times,_ September 30, 1912, 5.
. Nick Salvatore, _Eugene V. Debs, Citizen and Socialist_ (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1982), 264. "MSG Rings With Wildest Cheers to Greet Socialist Candidates," _The Call,_ September 30, 1912, 1, 2.
. "Socialist Victory Complete in Battle for Free Speech," _The Call,_ October 22, 1912, 13. "Socialism: The Only Remedy," 3
. Ibid., 8. 11., 12, 23.
. "Open-Air Socialist Meeting," _New York Times,_ November 3, 1912, 4.
. "Socialists Pack New Star Casino," _The Call,_ November 4, 1912; "Remarkable Brownsville Rally Winds Up Campaign," _The Call,_ November 4, 1912, 3.
. "Crowd Abandons Sulzer to Hear Russell," _The Call,_ November 5, 1912, 1.
. Russell, _Bare Hands and Stone Walls_ (New York: C. Scribner's Sons, 1933), 217.
. _Bare Hands,_ 321.
. Ibid., 312. G. Frank, "The 'parliament of the people,'" _Century,_ 98, July 1919. There are various accounts of Chautauqua, including Victoria Case, _We Called It Culture: The Story of Chautauqua_ (Garden City, N.Y., Doubleday, 1948); William L. Slout, _Theatre in a Tent: The Development of a Provincial Entertainment_ (Bowling Green: Bowling Green University Popular Press, 1972); Charles Francis Horner, _Strike the Tents; The Story of the Chautauqua_ (Philadelphia: Dorrance, 1954); and Harry P. Harrison, _Culture Under Canvas: The Story of Tent Chautauqua_ (New York: Hastings House, 1958).
. _Bare Hands,_ 215–219. Chautauqua provided a variety of political opinions, including the Socialists. Carl Thompson, a prominent Socialist propagandist, also traveled extensively on the Chautauqua circuit.
. Case, 36. In 1912 there were forty-four lecturers and thirty entertaining companies on the 1912 Chautauqua circuit. The headliners were Bryan and Bohumir Kryl's Bohemian band. See Harrison, 118.
. Russell, _Lawless Wealth_ (New York: B. W. Dodge & Co., 1908), 9.
. _Why I Am a Socialist_ (George H. Doran Co., 1910.), 126; _The Coming Nation,_ August 5, 1911.
. "Socialism and the National Crisis," Speech at Carnegie Hall, October 15, 1910. "A Struggle for a Billion," _Ridgway's,_ November 3, 1906, 9–10; November 10, 11–12; November 17, 13–14; November 24, 15–16; December 1, 15–16; December 8, 15–16. 1906.
. "The Mysterious Octopus," W _orld To-Day,_ April 1911, 2080. The articles are February, 1735–1750, March, 1960–1972; _Hearst's Magazine,_ April, 2074–2085. The magazine was renamed _Hearst's Magazine_ in April. A government investigation eventually did not find evidence of monopoly behavior by the lumber moguls.
. _Coming Nation,_ October 8, 1911. This conclusion mirrors the one reached in 1963 by Gabriel Kolko in his study of the railroad industry, _The Triumph of Conservatism_ (Glencoe, Ill.: The Free Press, 1963).
. Russell, "The Mysterious Octopus," March 1960. Ralph W. Hidy, Frank E. Hill, and Allan Nevins, _Timber and Men: The Weyerhaeuser Story_ (New York: Columbia University Press, 1963), 300–301.
. "The Mysterious Octopus," April 1911, 2085.
. Various industries and disciplines were modernizing and meeting the challenges of industrialism See Robert Wiebe, _The Search for Order_ (New York: Hill and Wang, 1967). _Timber and Men,_ note 29, 310. Nevins says the Russell articles give "the impression of a halfhearted effort written under Hearst orders."
. _The Call,_ February 27, 28, 1913, 1. Russell to City Campaign Committee, undated, Social Democratic Federation Papers, Tamiment Institute, New York University. "Russell Confident of Socialist Jump," _The Call,_ September 26, 1913, 1, 4.
. "Russell Declares Ryan Has Control of Both Candidates," _The Call,_ September 27, 1913, 1, 4. For Belmont's role in New York City, see Irving Katz, _August Belmont: A Political Biography_ (New York: Columbia University Press, 1968), and David Black, _The King of Fifth Avenue: The Fortunes of August Belmont_ (New York: Dial Press, 1981).
. Russell speech, "The Invisible Government," October 12, 1913, New York Public Library. "Red Army Invades Hippodrome," _The Call,_ October 13, 1913, 1. "The Invisible Government Visible At last," _The Call,_ October 10, 1913, 1. "Russell, "This is Your Cause, Citizens!" _The Call,_ September 30, 1913, 1.
. Russell, "What Next?" _International Socialist Review,_ January 1913, 525. "Mud-Slinging Vital Problems? Which Do You Prefer?" _The Call,_ October 31, 1913, 1. The complete Socialist platform for New York City is in the Socialist Party Papers, Duke University.
. "Schools the Basis of the Republic, Declares Russell," October 17, 1913, 1. "Private Palaces or Public Schools," _The Call,_ October 22, 1913, 1. "How About the Real Issues?" _The Call,_ October 30, 1913, 6.
. "The Two Manikins, " October 28, 1913, p. 6, _The Call._ Russell, "The Power Behind the Campaign," _The Call,_ November 3, 1913, 1.
. Jacob Alexis Friedman, _The Impeachment of Governor William Sulzer_ (New York: Columbia University Press, 1939).
. Russell, "Sulzer Gets His," _The Call,_ October 17, 1913, 6. Edwin R. Lewinson, _John Purroy Mitchell: The Boy Mayor of New York_ (New York: Astra Books, 1965).
. "Russell, "Mr. Voter," _The Call,_ November 6, 1913, 6. See also Russell, "Reform, Oh Blessed Reform," _Pearson's,_ June 1914, 702–716.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
. Russell, _The Story of Wendell Phillips: Soldier of the Common Good_ (Chicago: C. H. Kerr & Co., 1914), 10.
. Ibid., 182. Oscar Sherwin, _Prophet of Liberty: The Life and Times of Wendell Phillips_ (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1975). Other biographies include Lorenzo Sears, _Wendell Phillips: Orator and Agitator_ (New York: Doubleday, Page & Company, 1909); George Edward Woodberry, _Wendell Phillips: The Faith of an American_ (Boston: Woodberry Society, 1912); Irving H. Bartlett, _Wendell Phillips, Brahmin Radical_ (Boston: Beacon Press, 1961); and George L. Austin, _The Life and Times of Wendell Phillips_ (Chicago: Afro-Am Press, 1969).
. Russell, _These Shifting Scenes_ (New York: George Doran Co., Hodder & Stoughton, 1914). Journalists writing autobiographies is common enough. See Howard Good, _The Journalist as Autobiographer_ (Metuchen, N.J.: Scarecrow Press, 1993).
. _Dial,_ 56:423, May 16, 1914, 350. _Boston Transcript_ May 2, 1914, 10.
. _Book Digest Index_ 10, June 1914, 406.
. _Doing Us Good and Plenty_ (Chicago: Charles H. Kerr & Co. Co-Operative, 1914).
. "Reflections of the Editor," _Pearson's,_ April 1911, 549–550. See also Peter N. Barry, "The Decline of Muckraking: A View from the Magazines," Ph.D. dissertation, Wayne State University, 1971, 341.
. Russell, _The Story of the Nonpartisan League_ (New York: Harper and Bros.), 64.
. Russell, "The Keeping of the Kept Press," January 1914, 34, "How Business Controls the News," May 1914, 406, both in _Pearson's._
. Will Irwin's articles appeared originally in _Collier's_ from January 21 to July 29, 1911. Irwin's work is described in Robert V. Hudson, _The Writing Game: A Biography of Will Irwin_ (Ames, Iowa: Iowa State University Press, 1982).
. Russell, _Doing Us Good and Plenty,_ 46.
. A good history of the Associated Press is Oliver Gramling, _AP: The Story of News_ (Port Washington: N.Y., Kennikat Press, 1969). See also Victor Rosewater, _History of Cooperative Newsgathering in the United States_ (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1930).
. "Russell, "The Associated Press and Calumet," _Pearson's,_ January 1914, 437–447. Russell's account is much the same as that of investigator Leslie H. Marcy, "Calumet," _International Socialist Review,_ February 1914, 453–461. Russell later said that the Associated Press made a "loud squeal" after his article appeared and blacklisted him for many years. Russell to Upton Sinclair, July 6, 1919, Sinclair Papers, Lilly Library, Indiana University.
. Russell, "The Keeping of the Kept Press," _Pearson's,_ January 1914, 33–43; "The Magazine Soft Pedal," _Pearson's,_ February 1914, 179–189; "How Business Controls News," _Pearson's,_ May 1914, 546–557.
. Russell, _Doing Us Good and Plenty,_ 150, 171.
. Ibid., 111–113.
. _New York Times,_ April 28, 1914; Arthur Link, "Mexico: Interference and Defeat, 1913–17," _Woodrow Wilson and Progressive Era, 1910–1917_ (New York: Harper & Row, 1954), 107–144. See also Robert E. Quirk, _An Affair of Honor: Woodrow Wilson and the Occupation of Veracruz_ (Lexington: University of Kentucky Press, 1962).
. While Russell was a draw on the lecture circuit, he felt audiences saw him as "a wild-eyed Socialist [and] a rude unmannerly disturber of the peace of good men." With his careful dress, close clipped gray hair, and gentlemanly manner this was hardly likely. He made variations on this comment twice. _Bare Hands and Stone Walls_ (New York: Charles Scribner's & Sons, 1933), 265 and in Russell Diary, August 13, 1914, Russell Papers, Library of Congress.
. _Bare Hands,_ 263. I have used three separate accounts by Russell to recreate the early days of the war in Europe. They are, _Bare Hands and Stone Walls,_ 256–279; his diary while in the Netherlands, Russell Papers; and an unpublished account he wrote of his days there, "When Holland Looked at the Cloudburst," Russell Papers. All accounts provide new evidence but no discrepancies in his version of events.
. Russell, "When Holland Looked at the Cloudburst," 8, Bare _Hands,_ 258.
. Russell, "Germanizing the World," C _osmopolitan,_ February 1906, 275–278, 282.
. Russell, _Bare Hands,_ 258. His full account of the island is "In the Outposts of Germany's Advance," _World To-day_ October 1907, 999–1008. See also Russell, _After the Whirlwind A Book of Reconstruction and Profitable Thanksgiving_ (New York: George H. Doran Co., 1919), 146–178.
. Russell, _Bare Hands,_ 263. Russell Diaries, August 3. Russell describes his knowledge of German plans in more detail in _After the Whirlwind,_ 23–46.
. Russell Diaries, August 7, 1914. Ameringer, _If You Don't Weaken_ (New York: Henry Holt & Co., 1940), 300–301.
. "Facts about war," ca. 1914, a pamphlet, Tamiment Library, New York University, Radical Pamphlets Collection.
. Various books discuss socialism and the war. See James Weinstein, "The Socialists and the War," _The Decline of Socialism in America, 1912–1925_ (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1967), 119–176; William E. Walling, ed., _The Socialists and the War_ (New York: Garland, 1972 [1915]); Mary E. Merle Fainsod, _International Socialism and the World War_ (New York: Octagon Books, 1966 [1935]). On the war's cause see Luigi Albertini, _The Origins of the War of 1914_ (London: Oxford University Press, 1952), Sidney Bradshaw Fay, _The Origins of the World War_ (New York: Free Press, 1966); H. W. Koch, _The Origins of the First World War: Great Power Rivalry and German War Aims_ (New York: Taplinger Pub. Co., 1972); and Denna F. Fleming, _The Origins and Legacies of World War I_ (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1968).
. Russell, "When Holland Looked at the Cloudburst," 12, 18. "Source List and Detailed Death Tolls for the Twentieth Century Hemoclysm," <http://users.erols.com/mwhite28/warstat1.htm/>.
. "When Holland Looked at the Cloudburst," 4. _Bare Hands,_ 272.
. Russell Diaries, August 12, 16, 1914. _Bare Hands,_ 265.
. Russell, _Bare Hands,_ 273. Russell Diaries, August 23, 1914.
. Quoted in Tertius Van Dyke, _Henry Van Dyke: A Biography_ (New York: Harper & Bros., 1935), 329. _Bare Hands,_ 272–273. Russell noted other spying incidents in unpublished manuscript, "Book Fragments," 15, Russell Papers. On German spying, Harold D. Lasswell, _Propaganda Technique in the World War_ (New York: Peter Smith, 1938). Frederick C. Luebke, _Bonds of Loyalty: German-Americans and World War I_ (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 1974).
. Russell Diaries, August 18, September 5, 1914. _Bare Hands,_ 274.
. Russell, "This King and Kaiser Business," _Pearson's,_ January 1915, 28.
. Russell Diary, Aug 29, 1914.
. Russell Diary, September 28, 1914, 30, Russell Papers. _Bare Hands,_ 285–286. Hyndman was a prominent socialist who carried on a long correspondence with Russell over many years. Russell called him "one of the most remarkable minds I have ever known."
. Russell, "Speech in Carnegie Hall," _New York Times,_ October 11, 1914.
. "Socialists Expect War to Help Them," _New York Call,_ October 25, 1914, 2.
. Miraldi, "The Treason of the Senate: Muckraking's High Point?" in "The Journalism of David Graham Phillips," Ph.D. dissertation, New York University, 1985, 264–275. C. H. Hoebeke, _The Road to Mass Democracy: Original Intent and the Seventeenth Amendment Author (_ New Brunswick, N.J.: Transaction Publishers, 1995). Melvin Dubosky, "Success and Failure of Socialism in New York City, 1900–1918: A Case Study." _Labor History_ IX (Fall 1968): 361–375.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
. Russell, "Will You Have Peace or War?" _Pearson's,_ March 1915, 324.
. John A. Thompson, _Reformers and War: American Progressive Publicists and the First World War_ (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987) and David M. Kennedy, _Over Here: The First World War and American Society_ (New York: Oxford University Press, 1980).
. Arthur S. Link, _Wilson the Diplomat, A Look at His Major Foreign Policies_ (Baltimore: The John Hopkins Press, 1957) and _Woodrow Wilson and the Progressive Era_ (New York: Harper and Row, 1954) and Harvey A. DeWeerd, _President Wilson Fights His War: World War I and the American Intervention_ (New York: Macmillan, 1968).
. Russell, "This King and Kaiser Business," _Pearson's,_ January 1915, 26. Russell to Carl Thompson, January 15, 1915, Socialist Party Papers, Duke University. _Bare Hands and Stone Walls_ (New York: C. Scribner's Sons, 1933), 285.
. Russell, "Some Obscured Lessons of the War," _Pearson's,_ February 1915, 163. William English Walling, ed., _The Socialists and the War_ (New York: Garland Publishing, 1972) notes that many socialists did not blame economics alone, 468. Progressives and Socialists agreed on many causes of war. See John A. Thompson, _Reformers and War: American Progressive Publicists and the First World War_ (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).
. Berger in _The American Socialist,_ January 9, 1915, quoted in Walling, 388. Russell, "Will You Have Peace or War?" _Pearson's,_ March 1915, 327.
. CER to Thompson, January 15, 24, 1915, Socialist Party Papers. Discussed also in Donald Bragaw, "Solider for the Common Good," Ph.D. dissertation, Syracuse University, 1971, 236–237 and David Shannon, _The Socialist Party of America: A History_ (New York: Macmillan, 1955), note 12, 286.
. _Who Made This War,_ unpublished manuscript, Russell Papers. This long article repeats many of the themes of his _Pearson's_ articles. It is in the form of a page proof, but it apparently was never published. "This King and Kaiser Business," 24–25.
. _Bare Hands,_ 288. Thompson, 101. See also C. Roland Marchand, _The American Peace Movement and Social Reform, 1898–1918_ (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1973).
. "This King and Kaiser Business," 39. Russell especially mocked the peace efforts being put forth by steel magnate Andrew Carnegie, asking: "How will you have peace so long as capital controls the nations and capital finds that its profits are blocked in a way that can be relieved only through war?" _Who Made This War._
. Russell, "France and the Common Good," 492 3.
. Russell, "This King and Kaiser Business," 34, "Some Obscured Lessons of the War," 167, 169.
. "C. E. Russell Off for War," _New York Times,_ April 12, 1915, 3. He discusses debt in "Why England Falls Down," _Pearson's,_ August 1915, 201–219 and in _After the Whirlwind/ A Book of Reconstruction and Profitable Thanksgiving_ (New York: Doran Co., 1919), 198–222. Russell concluded that the debt could not be paid off under capitalism. Under government ownership, however, the profits would go to the state, not individuals, and then the debt could be cleared.
. Russell Diary, Russell Papers, Library of Congress, April 5, 1915. Lothrop Stoddard, _Master of Manhattan: The Life of Richard Croker_ (New York: Longmans, Green and Co., 1931). 492 3.
. Russell Diary, April 10, 1915. Adolph and Mary Hoehling, _The Last Voyage of the Lusitania_ (H. H. Hold and Co., 1956) and Colin Simpson, _The Lusitania_ (Boston: Little, Brown, 1973).
. Russell Diary, April 11, 1915. "Why England Falls Down," 207. Russell fails to note, however, that Britain hardly needed an army because its navy was so superior. Russell Diary, April 21, 25, 1915.
. Russell Diary, May 4, 1915. Frederick Gould, _Hyndman, Prophet of Socialism_ (London, Pub., G. Allen & Unwin, 1928); _H. M. Hyndman and British socialism,_ ed., Henry Pelling (London: Oxford University Press, 1961).
. Russell describes Paris in "France and the Common Good," but he omits the crying scene, which is only in his diary, March 8, 1915. _After the Whirlwind,_ 15.
. Russell Diary, May 24, 1915. "France and Common Good," 493. H. C. Peterson, _Propaganda for War: The Campaign Against American Neutrality, 1914–1917._ (Port Washington, N.Y.: Kennikat Press, 1968).
. Russell, "The Men Behind the Dreadnaughts," _Why I Am A Socialist_ (New York: Doran & Co., 1915), 114.
. Russell, "In the Heartbreak Country," _Bare Hands,_ 324, 325, 330.
. _Bare Hands,_ 328. The articles are "The Revolt of the Farmers," April 1915, "The Farmers' Battle," May, "Grain and the Invisible government," December, all _Pearson's,_ 1915, and "The Farmer Versus the Great Interlocked," January, _Pearson's,_ January 1916. On Populism, see John D. Hicks, _The Populist Revolt: A History of the Farmers' Alliance and the People's Party_ (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press 1931) and Lawrence Goodwyn, _Democratic Promise: The Populist Moment in America_ (New York: Oxford University Press, 1976).
. Editorial, _The Nonpartisan Leader,_ September 23, 1916, 7. See also Mary M. Cronin, Fighting for Farmers: The Pacific Northwest's Nonpartisan Leaguer Newspapers," _Journalism History,_ Autumn 1997, 126–136.
. Robert L. Morlan emphasizes the "crusading zeal" and optimism of the group's members in _Political Prairie Fire: The Nonpartisan League, 1915–1922_ (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1955), 38; Herbert E. Gaston, _The Nonpartisan League_ (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Howe, 1920); Russell, _The Story of the Nonpartisan League_ (New York: Harper and Bros., 1920).
. Russell, "The Revolt of the Farmers: A Lesson In Constructive Radicalism," 426. _Bare Hands,_ 340 345.
. "Charles Edward Russell, an Optimist Turned Pessimist, Tells Pauline Jacobsen America will be forced to Fight a Victorious Germany," _San Francisco Bulletin,_ October 30, 1915, clipping in Russell Papers
. "Socialist Leader Warns U.S. to Arm," _New York Sun,_ November 29, 1915, clipping Russell Papers. "Russell Angers Socialists," _New York Times,_ November 30, 1915, 7. He was adamant that being a Socialist and going to war were compatible. "Nothing in the fundamental Socialist creed forbids a Socialist to take part in a just and righteous war," he wrote in _After the Whirlwind,_ 97.
. Debs is quoted in Shannon, 89. "Repudiated C. E. Russell," _New York Times,_ December 25, 1916, 3.
. "Russell, "A Socialist View," February 9, 1917, _New York Times,_ 8. He reiterates this in _Bare Hands,_ 292. Russell to Sinclair, February 22, 1916, Sinclair Papers, Indiana University.
. Russell Diary, July 5, 16, 1916.
. American Embassy official Robert W. Bliss denied Russell permission to go the war's front lines. A congressional investigation ensued but it was found Bliss did not err in his denial. Eventually Russell received the pass, however. "Takes Up Russell's Case," _New York Times,_ September 8, 1916, 6; Bragaw, 353; Harry N. Schrieber, _The Wilson Administration and Civil Liberties, 1917–1921_ (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1960).
. Russell Diary, July 16, 1916. The article was "Why England Falls Down."
. Russell Diary, August 14, 21, 1916.
. Russell Diary, September 3, 6, 1916.
. "Russell Goes to France," _New York Times,_ June 17, 1916. Robert H. Ferrell, _Woodrow Wilson and World War I, 1917–1921_ (New York: Harper and Row, 1985.
. Link, _Wilson: Campaigns for Progressivism and Peace, 1916–1917_ (Princeton University Press, 1965), 173.
. Russell, "The Socialists' Stand," _New York Times,_ February 15, 1917, 8. Algernon Lee, "Socialists Oppose a War," _New York Times,_ February 12, 1917. Russell insisted in his memoirs that financiers did not unduly influence the entry into the war. "If they had," he insisted, "I should have known the fact." _Bare Hands,_ 292. H. C. Petersen and Gilbert C. Fite, _Opponents of War, 1917–1918_ (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1968). David S. Patterson, _Toward a Warless World: The Travail of the American Peace Movement, 1887–1914_ (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1976).
. Russell to Mrs. Charles Whiting Baker, February 25, 1917, Baker-Wheeling Family Papers, University of Virginia Library.
. The Party's position is reprinted in full in "St. Louis Manifesto of the Socialist party," ed. Albert Fried, _Socialism in America_ (New York: Doubleday & Co., 1970), and in "St. Louis Manifesto," _International Socialist Review,_ May 1917. See also James Weinstein, "Antiwar Sentiment and the Socialist Party, 1917–1918," _Political Science Quarterly_ 74, (1959): 215–239.
. Stokes to Russell, April 8, 1917, Phelps-Stokes Papers, Columbia University. The letters started in March, Stokes to Russell, March 9, 10, 19, 20, 1917; Russell to Stokes, March 15, 1917.
. Russell to Stokes, April 8, 1917, Stokes Papers.
. Russell to Stokes, April 12, 14, 1917; Stokes to Russell, April 16, 1917, Stokes Papers. Russell's editor at _Pearson's,_ Frank Harris, could not understand why Russell was so "bitten with the German bug." Harris to Upton Sinclair, May 19, 1917. Quoted in Upton Sinclair, _My Lifetime in Letters_ (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1960), 178.
. Kenneth Hendrickson Jr., "The Pro-War Socialists, the Social Democratic League and the Ill-Fated Drive for Industrial Democracy in America, 1917–1920," _Labor History_ 11, 304–322. Shannon, 304.
. Shannon, 101, 102. _New York Times,_ September 7, 1917. Russell to Sinclair, May 4, 1917, Sinclair Papers.
. William Bauchop Wilson, the President's Secretary of Labor, was the first to sound out Russell about the possibility of him doing diplomatic work for the Administration. Woodrow Wilson to Russell, May 10, 1917, and Russell to Wilson, May 11, 1917, Ray Stannard Baker. _Woodrow Wilson: Life and Letters_ 6 (Garden City, N.Y., Doubleday, Page & Co., 1927–39), 262, 280.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
. Russell speech, June 12, 1917, _America's Message to the Russian People: Addresses by the Special Diplomatic Mission_ (Boston: Marshall Jones Co., 1918), 143. Russell, _Unchained Russia_ (New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1918).
. I have used various secondary sources to describe the Russia trip, including George Kennan, _Russia Leaves the War_ (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1956); Norman E. Saul, _War and Revolution / The United States and Russia, 1914–1921_ (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2001); William Appleman Williams, _American Russian Relations, 1781–1947_ (New York: Rinehart & Co., 1952); Robert Lansing, _War Memoirs_ (New York: Bobbs-Merrill, 1935); and T. Bentley Mott, _Twenty Years as Military Attaché_ (New York: Oxford University Press, 1937).
. Lansing to Wilson, April 12, 1917, _The Lansing Papers, 1914–1920_ (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1939), 326.
. Russell, March 4, 1911, _The Coming Nation._ I have used two Root biographies: Richard W. Leopold, _Elihu Root and the Conservative Tradition_ (Boston: Little, Brown & Co., 1954), and Phillip C. Jessup, _Elihu Root_ (New York: Dodd, Mean & Co., 1938)
. Samuel Gompers privately urged Wilson not to choose Root, as noted in Ronald Radosh, _American Labor and United States Foreign Policy_ (New York: Random House, 1969), 76. See also his article, "American Labor and the Root Commission to Russia," _Studies on the Left_ III (1962), 34–37. Raymond Robbins to Theodore Roosevelt, Aug 24, 1917, cited in Jessup, 366.
. Kennan is quoted in Saul, 110. 356. Root to Taft, April 30, 1917, Jessup, 366.
. "Root an Ambassador for Mission to Russia," _New York Times,_ May 165, 1917, 9.
. _New York Times,_ April 29, 1917, 5. Wilson to Lansing, April 19, 1917, Wilson to Lansing, May 3, 1917, 196. Ray Stannard Baker, ed., _Woodrow Wilson, Life and Letters,_ V. II, (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1969 [New York: 1927–1939]), 29, 232 and Radosh, _American Labor,_ 77–78.
. Lansing to Wilson, May 3, 1917, and William Bauchop Wilson to WW, May 9, 1917, _Wilson: Life and Letters.,_ ed. Ray Stannard Baker (New York, Greenwood Press, 1968 [1927], 212, Saul, 109.
. "Socialists Here See German Trick," _New York Times,_ May 9, 1917, 3. "Say the Kaiser 'Must Go,'" _New York Times,_ May 13, 1917. Russell to Lansing, May 15, 1917, Lansing to Wilson, May 18, 1917, _Wilson Letters,_ ibid. "Gen. Scott Joins the Root Mission," _New York Times,_ May 12, 1917, 9. On the Stockholm conference, see Radosh, _American Labor,_ 103–121.
. "Ask Russell Not to Go," _New York Times,_ May 16, 1917, 9. Hillquit to Lansing, May 10, 1917, 268, Wilson Letters. "The black scourge of war," _Mother Earth_ 12, June 1917, 101–102.
. Editorial, "The Passing Show—'Root'—ing in Russia," _International Socialist Review,_ July 1917. "Gorky Hostile to Mission," _New York Times,_ May 18, 1917, 6. Gorky's comments were published in _Jewish Daily Forward_ in New York. See also Max Eastman, "Syndicalist-Socialist Russia," _International Socialist Review_ (1917), 78.
. Rose Pastor Stokes to Katerina Breshkovskaya, May 3, 1917, Cahan to Russell, May 17, 1917, Allen Benson to Russell, May 14, 1917, Russell Papers, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C. McCormick's diary confirms that International Harvester representatives had told him about American agitators stirring up the people before the mission arrived, May 22, 26, 1917, McCormick Papers, State Historical Society of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis.
. Russell Diary, June 3, 1917, Russell Papers.
. Russell Diary, June 5, 1917. While I have relied mostly on Russell's account, McCormick's diary also confirms many of the incidents on the trip. CER speech to Council of Workmen's, Soldiers' and Peasant Delegates, June 12, 1917 International Typographical Union, _America's Message to the Russian People,_ 145–147. Some of the speeches are also in _The U.S. and the War: The Mission to Russia Political Addresses,_ ed. Robert Scott and James Brown Scott (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1918). The complete itinerary of the mission is in "Special Diplomatic Mission of the United States of America to Russia," along with a summary of the Mission's activities sent to Secretary of State Lansing, copies in Russell Papers.
. The incident is recounted by Beatty, _The Red Heart of Russia_ (New York: Century, 1918), 39–40. While sailing to Russia, Russell told the Mission members that he was planning to do this. See McCormick diary, June 10, 1918. Russell's attempt to appear as a proletarian was scorned by the American socialists. See Radosh, _American Labor,_ 91.
. "Vote Out C. E. Russell," _New York Times,_ June 11, 1917, 18. Telegram to Socialist Party, Russell Papers, June 14, 1917. Russell Diary, June 14. 1917.
. Russell Diary, June 6, 1917.
. Russell Diary, June 13, 1917. Russell's analysis of Russia takes the name _Unchained Russia._
. Russell Diary, June 21, 26. Root wrote his wife that he liked the fact that everyone got up late in Russia. Jessup, 361.
. Russell Diary, June 20, 21.
. Root cable to Lansing, June 17 1917, Root Papers, Library of Congress. On publicity and Russia, see James R. Mock and Cedric Larson, _Words that Won the War: The Story of the Committee on Public Information, 1917–1919_ (New York: Russell and Russell, 1939), 300–320, and Jessup, 365. See also John A. Thompson, _Reformers and War: American Progressive Publicists and the First World War_ (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).
. Russell first warned about agitators on the trip to Russia. McCormick diary, May 21, 1917. Russell Diary, July 1, 1917.
. Steffens discusses his time in Russia in _The Autobiography of Lincoln Steffens_ (New York: Harcourt, Brace & Co., 1931), 741–777. Diary, July 1, June 21, 1917.
. Russell Diary, June 25. 1917. Russell in _Assault on Democracy,_ a fifteen-page unpublished manuscript in his Library of Congress papers, said he had documents to prove that Lenin was being paid by the Germans but that his trunk containing the proof had been stolen.
. Russell, _Bare Hands and Stone Walls_ (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1933), 351. Russell Diary, June 27, 1917. Herbert Bailey, "Russell Foils Tricks of Socialists Here," _New York Times,_ June 28, 1917, 2.
. Diary, July 4, 1917. A U.S. delegation headed by John F. Stevens was in Russia at the same time as the Root mission. The Stevens mission was trying there to advise the Russians on their rail woes, but the mission interfered with the Root mission work. Saul, 142–144.
. _Assault on Democracy,_ 155. Russell Diary, July 7, July 10. Jessup, 365.
. Root's letter home is noted in Jessup, 369. "Root Has Faith Russia Will Stand," _New York Times,_ August 5, 1917, 1, 2. "Russell Would Stop Criticism of Russia," July 6, 1917, 3. "We can depend on Russia, Root Says," _New York Times,_ August 12, 1917, 1, 3.
. Root to Jessup, September 16, 1936. _Elihu Root,_ 356. Wilson blamed Root for failing to win over the Russians. Leopold, 119. Wilson to Russell, November 10, 1917. _Wilson Letters,_ 558. Wilson said he agreed with Russell's thinking on Russia. Wilson passed along Russell's letter to Creel, calling it "important." Note 1, _Wilson Letters,_ 349.
. "Memorandum on the Russian Situation," December 7, 1917, The Conduct of American Foreign Affairs, Lansing Papers, as noted on Radosh, note 213, 160. A Root biographer writes that the only fair criticism of Root was that "that he did not show himself [to be] wiser than all those around him." Jessup, 370.
. "Robert Marion LaFollette," _Human Life,_ July 30, 1909, 30. Russell speech, Union League Club of New York, August 15, 1917, _America's Message to the Russian People,_ 150.
. Fred Greenbaum, _Robert Marion La Follette_ (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1975). Joshua Butler Wright, a counselor to Ambassador Francis, described Russell, Diary, July 28, 1917. See Saul, note 116, 134.
. Speech in Minneapolis before a labor loyalty rally, "Loyal Conference Defines War Aims," _New York Times,_ September 7, 1917, 12.
. Russell to Sinclair March 25, 1918, Sinclair Papers, Lilly Library, Indiana University, Bloomington. Russell to George Creel, October 29, 1917, CPI Papers, National Archives, Maryland. Stephen Vaughn, _Holding Fast The Inner Lines: Democracy, Nationalism and the Committee on Public Information_ (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1980), 38.
. The touring Progressives are discussed in Stuart I. Rochester, _American Liberal Disillusionment in the Wake of World War I_ (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1977). Baker, _American Chronicle_ (New York, C. Scribner's Sons, 1945), 303. Vaughn, 131.
. Russell to Creel, January 4, and February 23,1918, CPI Papers. Vaughn, 307.
. Vaughn, 140. "100 Radical Papers May Be Suppressed," _New York Times,_ September 16, 1917. "Russell, "The New Socialist Alignment," _Harper's Magazine,_ 569.
. Creel to Russell, November 9, 1917, Creel to Russell, April 22, 1918, CPI Files.
. Russell Diary, May 12, 1918. See, for example, Robert V. Hudson, "Propagandist," _The Writing Game, A Biography of Will Irwin_ (Ames: Iowa State University Press, 1982), 109–128.
. Russell's distaste for England was signaled in earlier articles, "Strange Lineage of a Royal Baby," _Cosmopolitan,_ September 1907, "The Mystery of Edward the Seventh," _Human Life,_ November 1908 and "The Next King of Erford," _Human Life,_ November 1910, 5, 6, 23, 27. Russell Diary, May 8, 24. July 3, 1918.
. Russell to Creel, April 21, 1918, CPI Files.
. Russell Diary, May 25, 21, 1918.
. Russell Diary, May 8, July 8, 1918. Vincent Brome, _H. G. Wells: A Biography_ (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1951); Lovat Dicksong, _H. G. Wells: His Turbulent Life and Times_ (London: Macmillan, 1969).
. Russell and other pro-war Socialists had formed the Social Democratic League as a second American Socialist Party soon after their split in 1917. The League never gained momentum and was more a paper organization than a real political party. There are various accounts of its existence. See Kenneth E. Hendrickson, Jr., "The Pro-War Socialists, the Social Democratic League and the Ill-Fated Drive for Industrial Democracy in America, 1917–1920," _Labor History_ 11 (Summer 1970): 304–322 and Frank L Grubbs, _The Struggle for Labor Loyalty: Gompers, the AF of L and the Pacifists, 1917–1920_ (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1968).
. Russell Diary, July 26, 1918. The trip to Europe is also described in Marion Simons Leuck, "The American Socialist and Labor Mission to Europe, 1918, Background Activities and Significance: An Experiment in Democratic Diplomacy," Ph.D. dissertation, Northwestern University, 1941; Kent Kreuter and Gretchen Kreuter, _An American Dissenter: The Life of Algie Martin Simons, 1870–1950_ (Lexington: University of Kentucky Press, 1969). Simons retells the story in _Vision for Which We Fought: A Study in Reconstruction_ (New York: Macmillan, 1919).
EPILOGUE
. Stuart I. Rochester, _American Liberal Disillusionment in the Wake of World War I_ (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1977), 63. On the war and its effect on Progressivism, see also Arthur Link, "What Happened to the Progressive Movement in the 1920s?" _American Historical Review_ 64 (July 1959): 833–81.
. John Wheeler-Bennett, Brest _-Litovsk: The Forgotten Peace_ (London: Macmillan and Co., 1918) Russell, _The Assault on Democracy,_ unpublished manuscript in Russell Papers, Library of Congress.
. Russell, _After the Whirlwind: A Book of Reconstruction and Profitable Thanksgiving_ (New York: George H. Doran Co., 1919), 14–15, 21, 22, 300, 302–303.
. _Unchained Russia_ (New York, London: D. Appleton and Co., 1918), _After the Whirlwind, Bolshevism and the United States_ (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill Co., 1919).
. Russell, _Bare Hands and Stone Walls_ (New York: C. Scribner's Sons, 1933), 324, 335, 358. Russell wrote a series of articles on postwar America for the _McClure's_ syndicate: "Labor as it Used to Be and as It is Now," March 23, "War Revelations About Labor," March 30, "A Reasonable Position of American Labor About the Present High Wage Scale," April 6, "Educational and Other Reforms That Are Most Needed," April 13, "The Great Need of Co-operation," April 20, "The Danger of Bolshevism in the United States," April 27, "Bolshevism and the United States," May 4, all 1919, clippings in Russell Papers.
. _The Story of the Nonpartisan League: A Chapter in American Evolution_ (New York, London: Harper & Bros., 1920). Russell's wife Theresa caused a flap in 1920 when she claimed to have been in contact with the spirit of feminist champion Susan B. Anthony who told her that Americans should vote for Eugene V. Debs, then in jail for his antiwar comments. Debs did get a million votes for the presidency in the 1920 election. "Miss Anthony, Dead, For Debs," October 3, 1920, _New York Sun,_ clipping in Russell Papers, no date.
. Russell, "The Ethics of Vivisection: Materialism vs. Humanity," speech before the Society for Humane Regulation of Vivisection, February 16, 1920. Copy of speech, Russell Papers. Sue M. Farrell to Russell, October 2, 1925, Russell Papers.
. Brisbane to Russell, January 9, 1926, Russell papers. Russell, "Is Woman Suffrage a Failure?" March 1924, 724–730, "Is the World Going Dry?" January 1924, 323–333, and "At the European Switchboard, February 1925, 454, 452–463, all in _The Century Magazine._ Russell, _Railroad Melons, Rates and Wages: A Handbook of Railroad Information_ (Chicago: C. H. Kerr & Co., 1922); _The Outlook for the Philippines_ (New York: The Century Co., 1922); _The Hero of the Filipinos: The Story of Jose Rizal, Poet, Patriot and Martyr,_ with E.B. Rodriguez (New York, London: The Century Co., 1923); Russell to John Spargo, December 19, 1926, Spargo Papers, University of Vermont Library.
. Untitled profile in the papers of William Stanley Braithwaite, ca. 1925. Russell, _Bare Hands,_ 375.
. "Charles E. Russell, Now Famed Journalist, Early U.S. Writer to Sponsor Irish Freedom," _Washington Post,_ July 24, 1938, clipping in Russell Papers, Library of Congress. Russell, _Bare Hands,_ 385. "The True Dimensions of the Irish," February, 1,7, "British Propaganda in America," March, 1,7, and "The Growing Shadow of Imperialism," April, 3, 7–8, all _American Irish Review,_ 1924. Mary Cogan Bromage, "Mission to America," _De Valera and the March of a Nation_ (New York: Noonday Press, 1956), 90–107, and Frank P. Longford, _Eamon de Valera_ (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1971).
. Russell recounts the incident in _Bare Hands,_ 391–392. His speech is in "British Bar Russell for Cincinnati Talk," _Cincinnati-Times Star,_ May 28, 1926, copy in Russell papers.
. _Bare Hands,_ 392. Russell to Hicks, June 7, 1926. Hicks to Russell, June 11, 1926. Russell papers. Unsigned letter to Russell, May 31, 1926, from a reporter with the _London Daily Express._ "British Bar Russell for Cincinnati Talk," _Cincinnati-Times Star._ Unsigned editorial, "Britain Chucklehead," _Cincinnati-Times Star,_ May 28, 1926, clippings in Russell Papers.
. E. H. Sothern, _Julia Marlowe's Story_ (New York: Rinehart & Co., 1954) v, vi.
. Russell, _Julia Marlowe: Her Life and Art_ (New York, London: D. Appleton and Co., 1926). Book reviews: _New York Herald Tribune,_ September 19; _New York Times,_ August 15, 1926, 7; _International Book Review,_ September 26, 1926, 611; _Boston Transcript,_ August 28, 4, all 1926. A later biography was Adelaide A. Ovington, _The Star that Didn't Twinkle_ (New York: Vantage Press, 1961).
. Russell, _Theodore Thomas and the American Orchestra_ (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, Page & Co., 1927), vii. 312–313.
. Theodore Caskey Russell, "Theodore Thomas: His Role in the Development of the Musical Culture in the United States, 1835–1905," Ph.D. Dissertation, University of Minnesota, notes "numerous inaccuracies" in Russell's book. See also Ezra Schabas, _Theodore Thomas: America's Conductor and Builder of Orchestras, 1835–1905_ (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1989); _New York Times,_ April 8, 1928, 18. See also _Boston Transcript,_ January 14, 1928, 4; the _Nation,_ January 4, 23; and _New York Evening Post,_ November 12, all 1928.
. Hampton to Russell, May 8, 1928, Russell Papers.
. _A-rafting on the Mississipp'_ (New York, London: The Century Co., 1928). _New York Herald Tribune,_ November 11, 1928, 7. See also _New York Times,_ October 7, 1928, 14.
. Russell, _An Hour of American Poetry_ (New York, London: J. B. Lippincott Co., 1929), _From Sandy Hook to 62 degrees; being some account of the adventures, exploits and services of the old New York pilot-boat_ (New York, London: The Century Co., 1929). F. L. Robbins, _Outlook,_ May 28, 1930, 145. Russell, _Charlemagne, First of the Moderns_ (Boston, New York: Houghton, Mifflin Co., 1930). See also Richard Winston, _Charlemagne: From the Hammer to the Cross_ (Indianapolis, Bobbs-Merrill, 1954) and Harold Lamb, _Charlemagne: The Legend and the Man_ (Garden City, N.Y., Doubleday, 1954).
. Russell, _Haym Salomon and the Revolution_ (New York: Cosmopolitan Book Corp., 1930). Russell, Introduction to Zelig Tyler, _Let's Talk It Over: Present-Day Jewish Problems_ (New York: Defense Publishing, 1939). See also Howard Fast, _Haym Salomon, Son of Liberty_ (New York: J. Messner, 1941) and Laurens R. Schwartz, _Jews and the American Revolution: Haym Salomon and Others_ (Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland, 1987).
. The federation billed itself as "the voice of Christian America in behalf of the Jewish national home." See Russell, "The Truth about Palestine," article in Russell Papers, ca. 1936. "C. E. Russell Blames England for Arabs' Clash with Jews," newspaper clipping, December 15, 1936, "Russell Signs Petition Sent Britain by Jews," Newspaper clipping, October 26, 1940, both in Russell Papers. "Russell, Nazi Foe, Hailed By Mayor," _New York Times,_ February 13, 1934. Russell speech, "Hitlerism and the Jew," at the American Christian Conference, December 15, 1936, in Russell Papers.
. Comments made by Edmund I. Kaufmann, "C. E. Russell's Funeral to Be Held Tomorrow," _Washington Post,_ April 25, 1941, 25. Historian Henry Steele Commager said Russell's biography on Solomon did "a grave injustice" with its "indiscriminate enthusiasm" and "grotesque" interpretation of the American Revolution. Commager _Books,_ November 30 1930, 10.
. Marlowe to Russell, February 4, 1936, Russell Papers. Russell to Ralph Cram, November 21, 1936, Cram Papers, Newberry Library. John F. Finerty to Russell, July 29, 1938, Russell Papers.
. Russell to Margaret Tolson, Letter book, July 18, 1937, New York State Library, Albany, New York. This letter book contains Russell letters from 1937 to 1940, a poignant collection of his final days and thoughts.
. Marlowe to Russell, April 27, 1939. Unpublished poem in Russell Papers, "The sadness of the world."
. Hurst to Russell, February 2, 1939, Russell Papers. Hurst (1889–1968) is known for her sentimental novels. It is unclear how she and Russell became friendly. See Brooke Kroeger, _Fannie: The Talent for Success of Writer Fannie Hurst_ (New York: Times Books, 1999).
. Russell, "Old Reporter Looks at the Mad-House World," _Scribner's,_ October 1933, 225–220 and "Toward the American Commonwealth: Social Democracy: Constant Gradualism as the Technique for Social Advance," _Social Frontier,_ October 1938, 22–24. _Bare Hands,_ 421–425.
. Russell, _Why I Am a Socialist_ (New York: Hodder & Stoughton, George H. Doran Co., 1910), 286. "100 Honor Well Known Author and Publicist," _Washington Tribune,_ April 19, 1934, clipping, Russell Papers.
. Marlowe to Russell, March 5, 1940. McGaffey to Russell, March 7, 1940, both Russell Papers.
. "Charles Edward Russell, 80, Dies After Brief Illness," _Washington Tribune,_ April 26, 1901; "Charles Russell, Noted Writer, Socialist, Dies," Associated Press Story, April 24, 1941; "Charles Russell, Journalist, Dies," _New York Times,_ April 24, 1941, 44; "Estate of C. E. Russell, Poet, Valued at $70,609," _Washington Star,_ May 9, 1941; all in Russell Papers.
. Russell speech in _William English Walling: A Symposium_ (New York: Stackpole Sons, 1938), 79.
PRIMARY SOURCE BIBLIOGRAPHY
BOOKS
Such Stuff as Dreams (Indianapolis: The Bowen-Merrill Co., 1901).
The Twin Immoralities and Other Poems (Chicago: Hammersmark Publishing Co., 1904).
The Greatest Trust in the World (New York: The Ridgway-Thayer Co., 1905).
The Uprising of the Many (New York: Doubleday, Page & Co., 1907).
Lawless Wealth: The Origin of Some Great American Fortunes (New York: B. W. Dodge & Co., 1908).
Songs of Democracy and on Other Themes (New York: Moffat, Yard and Co., 1909).
Thomas Chatterton: The Marvelous Boy, The Story of a Strange Life, 1752–1770. (London: Richards, 1909).
Why I Am a Socialist (New York: Hodder & Stoughton, George H. Doran Co., 1910 [1915]).
Business: The Heart of the Nation (New York: John Lane Co., 1911).
The Passing Show of Capitalism (Girard, Kansas: The Appeal to Reason, 1912).
Stories of the Great Railroads (Chicago: C. H. Kerr & Co., 1912).
Doing Us Good and Plenty (Chicago: C. H. Kerr & Co., Co-Operative, 1914).
These Shifting Scenes (New York: Hodder & Stoughton, George H. Doran Co., 1914).
The Story of Wendell Phillips: Soldier of the Common Good (Chicago: C. H. Kerr & Co., 1914).
Unchained Russia (New York, London: D. Appleton and Co., 1918).
After the Whirlwind: A Book of Reconstruction and Profitable Thanksgiving (New York: George H. Doran Co., 1919).
Bolshevism and the United States (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill Co., 1919).
The Story of the Nonpartisan League: A Chapter in American Evolution (New York: Harper & Bros., 1920).
Railroad Melons, Rates and Wages: A Handbook of Railroad Information (Chicago: C. H. Kerr & Co., 1922).
The Outlook for the Philippines (New York: The Century Co., 1922).
The Hero of the Filipinos: The Story of Jose Rizal, Poet, Patriot and Martyr. Written with E. B. Rodriguez (New York, London: The Century Co., 1923).
Julia Marlowe, Her Life and Art (New York, London: D. Appleton and Co., 1926).
The American Orchestra and Theodore Thomas (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, Page & Co., 1927).
A-rafting on the Mississipp' (New York, London: The Century Co., 1928).
An Hour of American Poetry (New York, London: J. B. Lippincott Co., 1929).
From Sandy Hook to 62 Degrees; being some account of the adventures, exploits and services of the old New York pilot-boat (New York, London: The Century Co., 1929).
Haym Salomon and the Revolution (New York: Cosmopolitan Book Co., 1930).
Charlemagne: First of the Moderns (New York: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1930).
Blaine of Maine: His Life and Times (New York: Cosmopolitan Book Corp., 1931).
Bare Hands and Stone Wall: Some Recollections of a Sideline Reformer (New York: C. Scribner's Sons, 1933).
A Pioneer Editor in Early Iowa: A Sketch of the Life of Edward Russell (Washington, D.C.: Ransdell Inc.), 1941.
MAGAZINE ARTICLES
1887
"The Clergyman's daughter," Waverly, March, 48.
1900
"Greatest World's Fairs," Munsey, November, 161–184.
1901
"Story of the Nineteenth Century," Munsey, January, 551–559.
"Are There Two Rudyard Kiplings?" Cosmopolitan, October, 653–660.
"Old St. Saviour's Southwark," Harper's Magazine, November, 878–884.
1904
"William Randolph Hearst," Harper's Weekly, May 21, 790–792.
"Notable Dramatic Achievements," Critic, December, 525–531.
1905
"The Greatest Trust in the World," Everybody's, February, 151–56; March, 291–300; April, 502–516; May, 643–654; June, 779–792; July, 61–74; August, 218–227; September, 380–383.
"Popularizing Classical Music," Reader, July, 40–47.
1906
"Germanizing the World," Cosmopolitan, January, 274–282.
"Socialistic Government of London," Cosmopolitan, February, 367–376.
"Marshall Field, A Great Mercantile Genius," Everybody's, March 1, 1906, 291–302.
"Soldiers of the Common Good," Everybody's, April 1906, 380–383; May, 597–601; June, 753–765; July, 42–55; August, 178–189; September, 340–352; October, 469–482; November, 774–792; December, 3–13.
"Mr. Hearst as I knew Him," Ridgway's, October, 279–291.
"That Blessed Word Regulation," Wilshire's, November, 9–11.
"A Struggle for a Billion," Ridgway's, November 3, 1906, 9–10; November 10, 11–12; November 17, 13–14; November 24, 15–16; December 1, 15–16; December 8, 15–16.
"Caste—the Curse of India," Cosmopolitan, December, 124–135.
"The Retirement of Mr. Hitchcock," Ridgway's, December 15.
"Could These Be Elected By the People?" Ridgway's, December, 7–8.
"Wall Street Greed and Railroad Ruin," Ridgway's, December 29, 12–13.
1907
"Soldiers of the Common Good," Everybody's, January, 187–196; February, 318–328; March, 490–501; April, 581–593; May, 784–795; June, 15–23.
"England's System of Snobbery," Cosmopolitan, January, 448–456.
"Caste in Various Countries," Cosmopolitan, March, 448–456.
"The Growth of Caste in America," Cosmopolitan, March, 524–534.
"Forgotten Capital of the Orient," Harper's, March, 622–632.
"The Message of David Graham Phillips," Bookman's Monthly, April, 511–513.
"The American Language," Saturday Evening Post, June 15, 6–7.
"Seven Kings in Mexico," Cosmopolitan, July, 271–279.
"The Suez Canal," Everybody's, July, 94–103.
"Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen?" Everybody's, August, 201–11; September, 348–360; October, 503–511; November, 636–645; December, 118–127.
"Strange Lineage of a Royal Baby," Cosmopolitan, September, 465–476.
"Abdul—the Snake Charmer," Human Life, October, 7–8.
"River of the Pagoda Land," Harper's, October, 674–683.
"In the Outposts of Germany's Advance," World To-day, October, 999–1008.
"Humanitarian Rule in Paris," World's Work, October, 9426–9430.
"The Haymarket and Afterwards," Appleton's, October, 399–412.
"Swinburne and Music," North American, November, 427–441.
"The Cry of the Slums," with Bessie Marsh, Everybody's, December, 34–40.
"At the Throat of the Republic: Before the Election," Cosmopolitan, December, 1907, 146–157; "At the Election," January, 1908, 259–271; "After the Election," February, 361–368; "Postscript—The Election of 1907," March, 475–480.
1908
"Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen?" Everybody's, January, 342–353.
"Rockefeller—An Estimate of the Man," Human Life, January, 9–10.
"Gravity, Yard and other Shambles," Independent, January 30, 233–238.
"Governor Johnson—New Style Politician," Everybody's, April, 494–503.
"What About Stuyvesant Fish?" Human Life, April, 5–6, 134.
"Trinity: Church of Mystery," The Broadway Magazine, April, 1–12.
"Trinity Corporation: A Riddle of Riches," The Broadway Magazine, May, 187–195.
"Morgan—Master of the Money Mart," Human Life, May, 753–760.
"A Burglar in the Making," Everybody's, June, 753–760.
"Governor Johnson—New Style Politician," Everybody's, June, 494–503.
" A Rational Plan for American Peerage," Broadway Magazine, July, 21–28.
"Senator Platt—The Yaller Hawk of Politics," Human Life, July, 7–9.
"Tenements of Trinity Church," Everybody's, July, 47–57.
"Billions for Bad Blue Blood: Training for the Title," September, 610–624; "The Curse of the Coronet," October, 785–800; "The Price The Woman Pays," The Redbook, November, 33–48.
"Forward Citizens to the Firing Line," Everybody's, November, 701–709.
"The Mystery of Edward the Seventh," Human Life, November, 5–6.
"One Woman Who Has Done Great Work," Human Life, December, 7–8, 29.
"The Passing of the Poorhouse," The Broadway Magazine, December, 742–750.
1909
"The Break-Up of the Parties," Success, January, 5–10; February, 80–82, 111–122.
"The Growing Menace of Socialism," Hampton's, January, 119–126.
"Reducing the Tariff—Yes?" Hampton's, February, 156–166.
"Slum as a National Asset," Everybody's, February, 170–180.
"Dr. Parkhurst, Preacher & Man," Human Life, February, 158–166.
"Trinity's Tenements—The Public's Business," Everybody's, February, 278–279.
"The Grand Orchestra in America," Cosmopolitan, March, 376–388.
"Samuel Gompers, Labor Leader," Human Life, April, 6–7, 31.
"The Heart of the Railroad Problem," Hampton's, April, 452–473.
"Philander Chase Knox—the New Secretary of State," Human Life, May, 7–8.
"Assumptions Versus Facts: A Satire," Arena, July, 451.
"Rescuer of Ruined Lives," Missionary Review of the World, July, 451–456.
"Robert Marion LaFollette," Human Life, July 7–8, 24.
"Unto the Least of These," with Lewis W. Hine, Everybody's, July, 75–87.
"The Night Court of New York," Human Life, September, 7–8, 30.
"Beating Men to Make them Good: Signs of a Better Era for Those that Go Wrong," Hampton's, 312–23.
"Beating Men to Make Them Good: An Illuminating Glance behind the Walls of American Prisons," Hampton's, September, 312–323.
"Beating Men to Make Them Good: the Decline of the Punishing Idea," Hampton's, November, 609–620.
"The American Diplomat Abroad," Cosmopolitan, November, 739–749.
"The Next King of Erford," Human Life, November, 5–6, 23, 27.
1910
"The Story of Charlemagne," Cosmopolitan, January, 127–140; February, 369–379; March, 501–510; April, 643–653; May, 781–790; June, 60–68.
"Chaos and Bomb Throwing in Chicago," Hampton's, March, 435–447.
"Sanity and Democracy for American Cities," Everybody's, April, 435–447.
"Great Millionaire's Mill," Hampton's, April, 478–491.
"The Mystery of Dreyfus," Human Life, April, 9–10, 29.
"Winning and Empire and the Cost of Winning," Hampton's, May, 603–617.
"Monometallism and Water," Cosmopolitan, June, 21–24.
"Scientific Corruption of Politics," Hampton's, June, 843–858.
"What Are You Going to Do About it? Legislative Graft and the Albany Scandal," July Cosmopolitan, 146–160.
"What Are You Going to Do About it? Graft as an Expert Trade in Pittsburg [sic]," Cosmopolitan, August 1910, 283–293.
"What Are You Going to Do About it? The Jack-Pot in Illinois Legislation," Cosmopolitan, September, 466–478.
What Are You Going to Do About it? The Man the Interests Wanted," Cosmopolitan, October 1910, 592–601.
"What Are You Going to Do About it? Colorado—New Tricks in an Old Game," Cosmopolitan, December, 45–58.
"What Are You Going to Do About it? Senator Gore's Strange Bribe Story," Cosmopolitan, January 151–162.
"Speaking of Widows and Orphans, " Hampton's, July, 79–92.
"Remedy of the Law," Hampton's, August, 217–230.
"Railroad Machine as It Works Now," Hampton's, September, 364–376.
"Surrender of New England," Hampton's, December, 759–770.
Paying of the Bill," Hampton's, October, 507–520.
"Heir of the War Lord," Cosmopolitan, March, 464–468.
1911
"The Mysterious Octopus," World To-Day, March, 1960–1972; Hearst's Magazine, April 2074–2085.
"What Comes of Playing the Game," International Socialist Review, January.
"Speed," Hampton's, October, 444–457.
"A Muckraker Off Duty," Twentieth-Century, November, 23–29, 34–48.
1912
Socialism the Only Remedy, a pamphlet, the Socialist Party, 1912.
"Socialism: Just Where It Stands To-day," Hampton-Columbian, January, 752–762.
"Rational Political Action," International Socialist Review, March, 545–548.
"The Mysterious Octopus," World To-Day, February, 1735–1750, March, 1960–1972; Hearst's Magazine, April, 2074–2085.
"The Heir of the War Lord," Cosmopolitan, March, 464–468.
"Progress and Politics," Cosmopolitan, July, 286–288.
1913
"What Next?" International Socialist Review, January, 524–527.
"Railroad Revolution," February, 129–39; March, 321–331; April, 382–399; May, 497–508; all Pearson's.
"Things as They Are," Pearson's, 511–512.
"Pure Food Law: A License to Poison," Technical World Magazine, July, 642–648.
"Is America on the Map?" Harper's Weekly, October 25, 26–27.
1914
"Reform, Oh Blessed Reform," Pearson's, June, 702–716.
"The Keeping of the Kept Press," Pearson's, January, 33–43.
"The Magazine Soft Pedal," Pearson's, February, 179–189.
"The Associated Press and Calumet," Pearson's, April, 437–447.
"How Business Controls News," Pearson's, May, 546–557.
"These Days in Journalism," International Socialist Review, October, 210–216.
1915
"As to Making Peace," Review, January, 20–22.
"This King and Kaiser Business" Pearson's, January, 24–33.
"Some Obscured Lessons of the War," Pearson's, February, 161–171.
"Will You Have Peace or War?" Pearson's, March, 323–333.
"France and the Common Good," Pearson's, April, 483–493.
"The Revolt of the Farmers: A Lesson in Constructive Radicalism," Pearson's, April, 417–427.
"The Farmer's Battle," Pearson's, May, 516–527.
"No More Foes Without and None Within," Pearson's, June, 691–699.
"Why England Falls Down," Pearson's, August, 201–219.
"Skinning Our Indians," Pearson's, October, 389–397.
"Grain and the Invisible Government," Pearson's, December, 515–527.
1916
"The Farmer Versus the Great Interlocked," Pearson's, January, 32–43.
1917
"The Nonpartisan League," Publications of the American Sociological Society, XI, 31–36.
"Origin and Aim of the Farmer's Nonpartisan League," Community Center, March 17, 20–21.
"Democracy in Russia," Collier's, September 22, 8–9, 34, 37, 39.
"Ruyssia's Women Warriors," Good Housekeeping, October, 22–23.
1918
"Russell, "The New Socialist Alignment," Harper's Magazine, March, 563–570.
"Behold a Man!" Hearst's Magazine, November, 348–350.
"There's Another St. Nicholas," New York Herald Tribune Magazine, December 23, 11–12.
1919
"Labor as it Used to Be and as It is Now," March 23; "War Revelations about Labor," March 30; "A Reasonable Position of American Labor about the Present High Wage Scale," April 6; "Educational and Other Reforms that Are Most Needed," April 13; "The Great Need of Co-operation," April 20; "The Danger of Bolshevism in the United States," April 27; "Bolshevism and the United States" May 4; all McClure's Syndicate.
"Radical Press in America," Bookman, July, 513–518.
1920
"All for Belgium," Hearst's, March, 5.
"Hamstringing Shakespeare," Bookman, November, 207–212.
1922
"The Philippines: Independent of Vassal?" The Nation, April 26, 487–488.
1924
"Is the World Going Dry?" Century, January, 323–333.
"The True Dimensions of the Irish," American Irish Review, February, 1,7.
"British Propaganda in America," American Irish Review, March, 1,7.
"Is Woman Suffrage a Failure?" Century, March, 724–730.
"The Growing Shadow of Imperialism," American Irish Review, April, 3, 7–8.
1925
"At the European Switchboard," Century, February, 452–463.
"New Phases in the Italian Struggle," Century, April, 744–755.
1926
"The Case of the Paying Teller," Elk's, April, 14–16, 63–65.
"It's the Little Things that Count," Elk's, 14–16.
"The New Industrial Era," Century, May, 1–11.
1927
"The Nordic Goes Safer-Rattling," Century, April, 685–694.
1928
"The American Grand Orchestra," Century, June, 167–175.
1929
"The Age of Detraction," New York Herald Tribune, November 18, 12–13.
"The Navy's Heritage of Glory," New York Herald Tribune, January 13, 1–3.
"Washington's Neglected Heroes," New York Herald Tribune, February 17, 1–3.
1930
"Haym Salomon and the Revolution," The Jewish Tribune, October 10, 3–7.
1931
"The Frightening Grip of the Utilities," Public Utilities Fortnightly, August 6, 138–148.
1932
"Orchestral Dividends," The Review of Reviews, February, 55–56.
1933
"Old Reporter Looks at the Mad-House World," Scribner's, October 1933, 225–230.
1936
"Hark! From the Caves," Real America, February, 20–24, 81.
1938
"Toward the American Commonwealth: Social Democracy: Constant Gradualism as the Technique for Social Advance," Social Frontier, October 1938, 22–24.
INDEX
The index that appeared in the print version of this title does not match the pages in your eBook. Please use the search function on your eReading device to search for terms of interest. For your reference, the terms that appear in the print index are listed below.
Abbot, Willis J.
Adams, Samuel Hopkins
Addams, Jane
Adirondack Mountains
American
Ameringer, Oscar
Arena
Armour, J. Ogden
Appeal to Reason
Associated Press
Atlanta Constitution
Australia
Baker, Ray Stannard
Barnett, Ida Wells
Beard, Charles A.
Beatty, Bessie
Belgium
Bell, Daniel
Benson, Allen L.
Bennett Jr., James Gordon
Berger, Victor
Bertron, Samuel R.
Blaine, James G.
Block, Rudolph
Bly, Nellie
Bolshevism
Borden, Lizzie
Brandeis, Louis
Brisbane, Albert
Brisbane, Arthur
Broadway
Brooklyn
Brooklyn Eagle
Bryan, William Jennings
Bull Moose Party
Burton, Scott
Cahan, Abraham
Cammann, Henry
Carnegie, Andrew
Carvalho, S. S.
Chamberlain, Sam
Charlemagne
Chautaqua Association
Chicago
Chicago American
Chicago Times
Chicago Tribune
China
"Citizen Kane"
Civil War
Cleveland, Grover
Cochrane, Elizabeth, see Nellie Bly
Collier's Weekly
Coming Nation
Committee for Public Information (CSI)
Conemaugh Valley
Cosmopolitan
Cotto, Henry
Coward, E. F.
Crane, Charles P.
Creel, George
Creelman, James
Croker, "Boss" Richard
Cumberland Valley
Cummings, Amos
Dana, Charles A.
Darwin, Charles
Davenport Gazette
Davenport, Iowa
David, Henry
Davis, Hartley
Davis, Richard Harding
Debs, Eugene Victor
Democratic Party
Depew, Chauncey
Detroit Tribune
De Valera, Eamon
Dewey, John
Dinwiddie, Emily Wayland
Dix, John Alden
Dix, Morgan
Donnegan, William
Dorr, Rheta Childe
Doubleday, Page. & Co
Du Bois, W. E. B.
Dunbar, Oliver Howard
Duncan, James F.
Dunne, Finley Peter
Eggleston, George Cary
Electrocution
Elkins Act
England
Enron Corporation
Era
Everybody's Magazine
Fairbanks Family
Fall River, Mass.
Farrelly, Richard A.
Ferber, Edna
Ferris, George T.
Field, C. N.
Filler, Louis
Fisk University
Flower, Benjamin
Food and Drug Administration
Forward, The
Foster, Maximillian
France
Francis. David R.
Frick, Henry Clay
Galveston, Texas
Garfield, James R.
Garrison, William Lloyd
Gaynor, William
Gelatt, R. B.
George, Henry
Georgia prisons
Gerard, James W.
Germany
Ghent, William J.
Goddard, Morrill
Goldman, Emma
Gompers, Samuel
Gorky, Maxim
Gould, Anna
Gould, Jay
Grant, Ulysses S.
Greeley, Horace
Greaves, Arthur
Guardian
Hampton, Benjamin
Hampton's Magazine
Hapgood, Norman
Harding, Warren
Harriman, E. H.
Harriman, Jeb
Harrison, Benjamin
Harper's Weekly
Haymarket Square
Haywood, "Big Bill"
Hearst, Phoebe
Hearst, William Randolph
Hedges, Jeb E.
Hennepin Canal
Hill, John Wesley
Hill, James J.
Hillquit, Morris
Hirschl, Charlotte
Hirsh, Nelson
Hitler, Adolph
Holmes, John Haynes
Holt, Hamilton
Hoover, Herbert
Howard University
Huerta, Victoriano
Human Life
Hunter, Robert
Huntington, Collis P.
Hurst, Fannie
Hyndman, Henry M.
Independent
India
Ingersoll, Robert G.
International Harvester Co.
International Socialist Review
International Workers of the World (IWW)
Interstate Commerce Commission
Iowa State Free Trade League
Iowa State Leader
Ireland
Irwin, Will
Italy
Jacobsen, Pauline
James, Joe
Japan
Jewish Daily Forward
Johnson, Andrew
Johnson, Tom L.
Johnstown, Pennsylvania flood
Jones, Mary "Mother"
Juergens, George
Jungle, The
Kennealey, Alexander
Kenney, William J.
Kerr, C. H.
La Follette, Robert
Lansing, Robert
Laurie, Annie
Lawson, Thomas
Lawrence, Mass.
Le Claire, Iowa
Lee, Algernon
Lee, Ivy
Lenin, Vladimir
Leslie's
Lessing, Bruno
Lewis, Alfred Henry
Lincoln, Abraham
Lippmann, Walter
London, England
London Telegraph
London, Meyer
Lovejoy, Elijah P.
Low, Seth
Lunn, George R.
Lusitania, S.S.
Lloyd, Henry Demarest
Macy's Department Store
Madison Square Garden
Manhattan
Manning, Marie
Manning, William T.
Markham, Edwin
Marlowe, Julia
Marx, Karl
Masses, The
McCall, Edward
McClure's
McCormick, Cyrus H.
McElvaine, Charles
McGaffey, Ernest
McKane, John Y.
McKinley, William
McLaughlin, "Boss" Hugh
Meatpackers and meatpacking
Medill, Samuel
Mellen, Charles S.
Meltzer, Charles H.
Midgley, J. W.
Minneapolis, Minn.
Minneapolis Journal
Mississippi River
Mitchell, John Purroy
Monopoly
Morgan, J. Pierpont
Morris Packing Co.
Mott, John R.
Muckrakers and muckraking journalism
Munsey, Frank
Murphy, Charles F.
Myers, Gustavus
Nasaw, David
Nation
National Association for the Advancement of Colored People
National Negro Conference
National Packing Co.
Netherlands
Newell, Graham
New York Call
New York Central Railroad
New York Commercial Advertiser
New York Herald
New York Journal
New York Post
New York Sun
New York Times
New York World
New York, New Haven and Hartford Rail Company
New Zealand
Niagara movement
Nonpartisan Leader
Nonpartisan League
North Dakota
Northern Securities Co.
Norris, Frank
Northwestern University
O'Hagen, Anne
Oliver Twist
Olney, Richard
O'Shaugnessy, James
Outcault, R. F.
Outlook
Ovington, Mary White
Packingtown
Palmer, Charles
Paris, France
Park Row
Parker, Charles A.
Parsons, Albert
Pearson's
Peck, Orrin
"penny press"
Perry, Arthur Latham
Philadephia
Philpott, Henry J.
Philippines
Phillips, Wendell
Phillips, David Graham
Pittsburgh
Platt, Thomas C.
Populism and Populist Party
Post, New York
Prison reform
Progressivism
Pulitzer, Joseph
Pulitzer Prize
Reick, William C.
Redbook
Republican Party
Rice, Wallace
Richardson, George
Ridgway
Ridgway, Ermin
Riis, Jacob
Rockefeller, John D.
Root, Elihu
Root Mission
Roosevelt, Theodore
Russell, Abby Osborne Rust
Russell, Charles Edward
On capital punishment
On Hearst
On journalism
On poverty
On progressivism
On racial relations
On railroads
On socialism
On war
Childhood
Covering Johnstown flood
Detective reporting
Education: St. Johnsbury, Vermont
Poetry
Race for governor New York
Race for president
Race for governor
Race for mayor
Race for U.S. Senate
Reporting and editing, Chicago American, Davenport Gazette, St. Paul Pioneer Press, Minneapolis Journal, Detroit Tribune; New York Commercial Advertiser, New York Herald, New York Journal, New York World
Russell, Edward
Russell, John Edward
Russell, Josiah
Russell, Lydia Rutledge
Russell, Theresa Hirschl
Russell, Thomas
Russell, William
Russia
Rutledge, William
Ryan, Thomas F.
Salisbury, William
Salomon, Haym
San Francisco Bulletin
San Simeon, California
Saturday Evening Post
St. Johnsbury, Vermont
St. Johnsbury Academy
St. Louis
St. Paul Pioneer Press
Schieren, Charles
Seidel, Emil
Seitz, Don
Shakespeare, William
Shame of the Cities
Sherman Anti-trust Act
Simons, A.M.
Sinclair, Upton
Sing Sing Prison
Sinn Fein
Smith, Ballard
Social Democratic Federation
Socialism
Socialist Party of New York
Socialist Party, U.S.
Sothern, Edward
Spargo, John
Springfield, Illinois
Stafford, Wendell Phillips
Standard Oil Co.
Steffens, Lincoln
Stimson, Henry L.
Stokes, J. G. Phelps
Storey, Wilbur
Straus, Oscar S.
Strunsky, Anna
Success
Sulzer, William
Sunday, Billy
Swift Co.
Switzerland
Swinburne, Algernon Charles
Taft, William Howard
Tammany Hall
Tarbell, Ida
Tarkington, Booth
Thomas, Theodore
Thompson, Carl
Townley, A. C.
Trinity Church
Trotsky, Leon
Trotter, Monroe
"trusts," see monopoly
Tweed, "Boss" William
Twentieth Century
U.S. Senate
Van Dyke, Henry
Vanderbilt, William H.
Veiller, Bayard
Veracruz, Mexico
Villard, Oswald Garrison
Wadsworth, James W.
Wald, Lillian
Walling, William English
Wanamaker, John
Ward, William
Wardman, Ervin
Washington, Booker T.
Watson, Tom
Wealth Against Commonwealth
Weaver, James Baird
Weeks Act
Weir, Hugh C.
Welliver, Judson
Wells, H. G.
Weyerhaeuser, Frederick
Whitlock, Brand C.
Whitney, William C.
Wilder, Burt G.
Wilson, Edmund
Wilson, Woodrow
Wise, Stephen
Wister, Owen
World War I
Wright, Chester
"yellow" journalism
"Yellow Kid"
Zimmerman, Arthur
THE PEN IS MIGHTIER
Copyright © Robert Miraldi, 2003.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
First published 2003 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN™
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010 and
Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire, England RG21 6XS.
Companies and representatives throughout the world.
PALGRAVE MACMILLAN is the global academic imprint of the Palgrave Macmillan division of St. Martin's Press, LLC and of Palgrave Macmillan Ltd. Macmillan® is a registered trademark in the United States, United Kingdom and other countries. Palgrave is a registered trademark in the European Union and other countries.
ISBN 0-312-29292-9 hardback
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
First edition: February 2003
eISBN 9781466886469
First eBook edition: October 2014
## Contents
1. Title Page
2. Copyright Notice
3. Contents
4. Dedication
5. Prologue: More than a Muckraker
6. Chapter 1: The Johnstown Flood: "Almost impossible to describe"
7. Chapter 2: The Pious and the Powerful
8. Chapter 3: Haymarket Square to Lizzie Borden
9. Chapter 4: Crusading against the Bosses
10. Chapter 5: The Best Job at the World
11. Chapter 6: Hearst, Yellow Journalism, Chicago
12. Chapter 7: Exposing the World's Greatest Trust
13. Chapter 8: "Soldier for the Common Good"
14. Chapter 9: The Shame of the World's Richest Church
15. Chapter 10: Evil Prisons, Race Riots, Justice Denied
16. Chapter 11: Out from Behind the Pen
17. Chapter 12: Grappling with the Octopus
18. Chapter 13: The Dove Becomes a Hawk
19. Chapter 14: The Amateur Diplomat
20. Chapter 15: At War with His Party--and Germany
21. Chapter 16: Propagandist in Russia
22. Epilogue: New Causes in the Final Years
23. Notes
24. Primary Source Bibliography
25. Index
26. Copyright
## Guide
1. Cover
2. Table of Contents
|
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}
| 7,238
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Briohn designed and constructed Sharp Packaging's new 168,000 SF state-of-the-art corporate headquarters. Sharp Packaging manufactures automated bagging machines, bag filling equipment and extrusion and the printing and converting of plastic bags.
During the pre-construction process, Sharp, and Briohn worked together to identify their operational needs and conducted multiple programming analyses to determine the most productive way to flow product through the facility for immediate needs and future growth.
In this new facility, Sharp Packaging is consolidating operations from five separate buildings into this single, stand-alone structure which includes two stories of office space and a large production floor, with some areas under a 60' high roof.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
}
| 7,465
|
Q: Getting 'Future' can't be assigned to a variable of type 'Image' in this Flutter/Dart code? I'm trying create a function to load images in Flutter (Dart) but not sure how to get this code working. I'm getting:
A value of type 'Future' can't be assigned to a variable of type 'Image'.
Try changing the type of the variable, or casting the right-hand type to 'Image'.
import 'dart:typed_data';
import 'dart:ui' as ui;
import 'package:flutter/material.dart';
import 'package:flutter/services.dart';
void main() {
runApp(MyApp());
}
class MyApp extends StatelessWidget {
@override
Widget build(BuildContext context) {
return MaterialApp(
home: MyHomePage(),
);
}
}
class MyHomePage extends StatefulWidget {
MyHomePage({Key key}) : super(key: key);
@override
_MyHomePageState createState() => _MyHomePageState();
}
class _MyHomePageState extends State<MyHomePage> {
ui.Image _backgroundImage;
Future<ui.Image> loadImage(imageString) async {
ByteData bd = await rootBundle.load(imageString);
// ByteData bd = await rootBundle.load("graphics/bar-1920×1080.jpg");
final Uint8List bytes = Uint8List.view(bd.buffer);
final ui.Codec codec = await ui.instantiateImageCodec(bytes);
final ui.Image image = (await codec.getNextFrame()).image;
return image;
// setState(() => imageStateVarible = image);
}
@override
Widget build(BuildContext context) {
setState( () => {
_backgroundImage = loadImage('imageNameString'); // <<== ISSUE: A value of type 'Future<Image>' can't be assigned to a variable of type 'Image'
});
return Scaffold(
body: Center(
child: Text('testing'),
),
);
}
}
A: Try this. Your problem is:
*
*should not call things like "download an image" inside build. That should be a pure function.
*Your loadImage is async. Thus I call it inside the _asyncInit. In addition, you may only want to load the image once (instead of every build), so I put in initState.
import 'dart:typed_data';
import 'dart:ui' as ui;
import 'package:flutter/material.dart';
import 'package:flutter/services.dart';
void main() {
runApp(MyApp());
}
class MyApp extends StatelessWidget {
@override
Widget build(BuildContext context) {
return MaterialApp(
home: MyHomePage(),
);
}
}
class MyHomePage extends StatefulWidget {
MyHomePage({Key key}) : super(key: key);
@override
_MyHomePageState createState() => _MyHomePageState();
}
class _MyHomePageState extends State<MyHomePage> {
ui.Image _backgroundImage;
@override
void initState() {
super.initState();
_asyncInit();
}
Future<void> _asyncInit() async {
final image = await loadImage('imageNameString');
setState(() {
_backgroundImage = image;
});
}
Future<ui.Image> loadImage(imageString) async {
ByteData bd = await rootBundle.load(imageString);
// ByteData bd = await rootBundle.load("graphics/bar-1920×1080.jpg");
final Uint8List bytes = Uint8List.view(bd.buffer);
final ui.Codec codec = await ui.instantiateImageCodec(bytes);
final ui.Image image = (await codec.getNextFrame()).image;
return image;
// setState(() => imageStateVarible = image);
}
@override
Widget build(BuildContext context) {
return Scaffold(
body: Center(
child: _backgroundImage != null ? YourWidget(_backgroundImage) : Text('you are loading that image'),
),
);
}
}
EDIT:
If you want an array of images:
import 'dart:typed_data';
import 'dart:ui' as ui;
import 'package:flutter/material.dart';
import 'package:flutter/services.dart';
void main() {
runApp(MyApp());
}
class MyApp extends StatelessWidget {
@override
Widget build(BuildContext context) {
return MaterialApp(
home: MyHomePage(),
);
}
}
class MyHomePage extends StatefulWidget {
MyHomePage({Key key}) : super(key: key);
@override
_MyHomePageState createState() => _MyHomePageState();
}
class _MyHomePageState extends State<MyHomePage> {
List<ui.Image> _backgroundImages;
@override
void initState() {
super.initState();
_asyncInit();
}
Future<void> _asyncInit() async {
final imageNames = ['firstimage', 'secondimage', 'thirdimage'];
// NOTE by doing this, your images are loaded **simutanously** instead of **waiting for one to finish before starting the next**
final futures = [for (final name in imageNames) loadImage(name)];
final images = await Future.wait(futures);
setState(() {
_backgroundImages = images;
});
}
Future<ui.Image> loadImage(imageString) async {
ByteData bd = await rootBundle.load(imageString);
// ByteData bd = await rootBundle.load("graphics/bar-1920×1080.jpg");
final Uint8List bytes = Uint8List.view(bd.buffer);
final ui.Codec codec = await ui.instantiateImageCodec(bytes);
final ui.Image image = (await codec.getNextFrame()).image;
return image;
// setState(() => imageStateVarible = image);
}
@override
Widget build(BuildContext context) {
return Scaffold(
body: Center(
child: _backgroundImages != null ? YourWidget(_backgroundImages) : Text('you are loading that image'),
),
);
}
}
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
}
| 3,080
|
\section{Introduction}
While global geometric properties are inherently nonlinear, they
nevertheless can often be controlled by linear techniques. A prime
example in geometry is the spectrum of the Laplace operator which
encodes geometric information about the underlying manifold. This
principle has been particularly fertile and most intensively
developed in Riemannian geometry, see \cite{Chavel84} for an
overview. It possesses a more general validity, however. In
particular, more recently, spectral methods have been successfully
explored in graph theory. In fact, it was observed that, while
being very different from manifolds, graphs can be investigated by
modifying techniques that originally have been developed in
Riemannian geometry. This insight was very fruitful and led to
many important results in graph theory, such as a discrete version
of Courant's nodal domain theorem \cite{Davies01}, Sobolev and
Harnack inequalities \cite{Chung-Yau95, Diaconis96,
Chung94aharnack, Chung12}, heat kernel estimates \cite{Delmotte99,
Coulhon98}, and many more. In particular, it turns out that the
normalized Laplace operator on graphs is related to the
Laplace-Beltrami operator for a Riemannian manifold. However, not
only results from the continuous setting triggered new results in
the discrete case but also results in graph theory led to new
insights in geometric analysis. One example of the mutual
stimulation between both fields is for example given in the work
of Chung, Grigor'yan and Yau \cite{Chung-Grigoryan-Yau96,
Chung-Grigoryan-Yau97, Chung-Grigoryan-Yau00} where a universal
approach for eigenvalue estimates on continuous and discrete
spaces was developed.
Graph theory, however, also has specific aspects that are
different from what occurs in other parts of geometry. Our
question then is whether and how these aspects can be explored
with spectral methods. For instance, a bipartite graph, i.e. a
graph whose vertex set can be split into two subsets such that
there are only edges between vertices belonging to different
subsets, has no counterpart in Riemannian geometry. Another
difference to Riemannian geometry is that for graphs, the spectrum
of the normalized Laplace operator is bounded from above by two.
For finite graphs, these two properties are connected by the fact
that 2 is an eigenvalue of the normalized Laplace operator if and
only if the graph is bipartite.
This leads us to the specific purpose of this paper which is to
investigate the top of the spectrum of the normalized Laplace
operator for infinite graphs. In order to do this we have
developed on the one hand new techniques that have no counterpart
in Riemannian geometry, and on the other hand have discovered
results that are similar to important theorems in the continuous
setting.
In Section \ref{Section3} we introduce the Dirichlet Laplace
operator and its basic properties. Let $\Gamma$ be an infinite
graph and $\Omega$ a finite, connected subset of $\Gamma$. Let
$\lambda_1(\Omega)$ ($\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)$) be the
first (largest) eigenvalue of the Dirichlet Laplace operator on $\Omega.$
We then have
\begin{equation}
\label{01}
\lambda_1(\Omega) + \lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega) \le 2,
\end{equation}
and we prove in Theorem \ref{Lembi} that we have the equality
$\lambda_1(\Omega) + \lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega) = 2$ if and only
if $\Omega$
is bipartite. In Section \ref{Section4} we
introduce a geometric quantity, the so-called dual Cheeger
constant $\bar{h}(\Gamma)$ that roughly speaking measures how
close a graph is to a bipartite one. We will show in this section
that the dual Cheeger constant $\bar{h}(\Gamma)$ is closely
related to the Cheeger constant $h(\Gamma)$. The Cheeger constant
$h(\Gamma)$ of a infinite graph $\Gamma$ is one of the most
fundamental geometric quantities which gives rise to important
analytic consequences such as the first eigenvalue estimate, heat
kernel estimates and so on. Also in the setting of finite graphs
the Cheeger constant is related to the growth behavior of the
graph since it is closely connected to the important notion of
expanders, see \cite{Lubotzky94} and the references therein for
more details. The Cheeger constant for a finite subset $\Omega$ of
the vertex set $V$ of $\Gamma$ is defined as
$$h(\Omega) = \inf_{\substack{\emptyset\neq U\subset
\Omega\\\sharp U
<\infty}}\frac{|\partial U|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)}, $$
where the volume of $U$ is the sum of the degrees of its vertices,
and $|\partial U|$ measures the edges going from a vertex in $U$
to one outside $U$. A sequence of finite subsets of $\Gamma$
satisfying
$\Omega_1\subset\Omega_2\subset\cdots\subset\Omega_n\subset\cdots$
and $\Gamma=\cup_{n=1}^{\infty}\Omega_n,$ denoted by
$\Omega\uparrow\Gamma,$ is called an exhaustion of $\Gamma.$ Since
$h(\Omega)$ is non-increasing when $\Omega$ increases, we can
define the Cheeger constant as the limit for subsets exhausting
$\Gamma$, i.e. $h(\Gamma)=\lim_{\Omega\uparrow \Gamma}h(\Omega),$
which does not depend on the choice of the exhaustion. The Cheeger
constant tells us how difficult it is to carve out large subsets
with small boundary. For a finite subset $\Omega\subset V$ we then
define the dual Cheeger constant by
$$\bar{h}(\Omega) =
\sup_{\substack{V_1, V_2\subset \Omega\\\sharp V_1, \sharp
V_2<\infty}}\frac{2|E(V_1,V_2)|}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1)+\mathrm{vol}(V_2)},$$
where $V_1,V_2$ are two disjoint nonempty subsets of $\Omega$ and
$|E(V_1,V_2)|$ counts the edges between them. The dual Cheeger
constant of $\Gamma$ then is obtained as the limit for
exhaustions, i.e. $\bar{h}(\Gamma)=\lim_{\Omega\uparrow
\Gamma}\bar{h}(\Omega).$ The dual Cheeger constant tells us how
easy it is to find large subsets with few inside connections, but
many between them. Observe that a bipartite graph is one that we
can divide into two subsets without any internal connections. This
is the paradigm behind the dual Cheeger constant.
In Theorem \ref{h and hbar}, we prove
\begin{equation}
\label{02}
h(\Omega)+ \bar{h}(\Omega) \le 1,
\end{equation}
with equality $h(\Omega)+ \bar{h}(\Omega)=1$ if the graph is
bipartite (the converse for equality is not true, see Example
\ref{counterexample1}). There is an obvious analogy between
(\ref{01}) and (\ref{02}), and their equality cases for bipartite
graphs. We shall explore this analogy in this paper. In fact, the
dual Cheeger constant was first introduced in \cite{Bauer12} to
effectively estimate the largest eigenvalue of a finite graph. In
this paper, we develop this technique for the setting of the
Dirichlet Laplace operator on finite subsets $\Omega$ of an
infinite graph $\Gamma.$ Our first main result is that the largest
eigenvalue of the normalized Dirichlet Laplace operator can be
controlled from above and below in terms of the dual Cheeger
constant, see Theorem \ref{Mtheo1}. Thus, we obtain inequalities
relating the largest Dirichlet eigenvalue and the dual Cheeger
constant $\bar{h}(\Omega)$ that are analogous to the relationship
between the first Dirichlet eigenvalue and the Cheeger constant.
In Theorem \ref{h and hbar 3} we prove that for graphs without
self-loops there is another relation between the dual Cheeger
constant $\bar{h}(\Omega)$ and $h(\Omega)$,
\begin{equation}
\label{03}
\frac{1}{2}(1-h(\Omega))\leq \bar{h}(\Omega)
\end{equation}
(\ref{02}) and (\ref{03}) thus tell us that $\bar{h}(\Omega)$ and
$h(\Omega)$ can be controlled by each other. These estimates will
be the key tool in Section \ref{Section10} where we study the
essential spectrum of the normalized Laplace operator of an
infinite graph. Nevertheless, the analogy between
$\bar{h}(\Omega)$ and $h(\Omega)$ suggested by (\ref{02}) and
(\ref{03}) has its limitations, as we shall see in Section
\ref{Section8} (but the analogy will make a surprising comeback in
Section \ref{Section10}).
But let us first describe results where the analogy holds. In
Section \ref{Section5} we prove eigenvalue comparison theorems for
the largest Dirichlet eigenvalue that are counterparts of the
first eigenvalue comparison theorems on graphs by Urakawa
\cite{Urakawa99} which are discrete versions of Cheng's first
eigenvalue comparison for Riemannian manifolds \cite{Cheng75a,
Cheng75b}. The mostly used comparison models in the literature
(see e.g. \cite{Urakawa99,Friedman93}) for graphs are homogeneous
trees, denoted by $T_d\ (d\in \mathds{N}, \ d\geq 2)$. Here we
propose a novel comparison model for graphs, the weighted
half-line $R_l\ (l\in \mathds{R},\ l\geq 2)$ which is inspired by
the behavior of the eigenfunctions for the first and largest
eigenvalues on balls in the
homogeneous tree $T_l$. Compared to the homogenous tree $T_d$, the
advantage of the weighted half-line $R_l$ is that we get better
estimates in the comparison theorems since, for our model space,
in contrast to the parameter $d$ for a homogeneous tree, $l$ need
not be an integer. Our main result in this section is that the
largest Dirichlet eigenvalue of a ball in a graph can be
controlled by that of a ball in the weighted half-line $R_l$ of
the same radius and a quantity that is related to the
bipartiteness of the graph.
In Section \ref{Section6} we show how the eigenvalue comparison
theorems from Section \ref{Section5} can be used to estimate the
largest, the second largest and other largest eigenvalues of the
normalized Laplace operator for finite graphs. In Section
\ref{Section7} we use the dual Cheeger constant $\bar{h}(\Gamma)$
to estimate the top of the spectrum of $\Gamma$. In Section
\ref{Section8} we study the dual Cheeger constant and its
geometric and analytic consequences. Let us denote by
$\sigma(\Delta)\ (\subset [0,2])$ the spectrum of the normalized
Laplace operator of an infinite graph $\Gamma,$ by
$\underline{\lambda}(\Gamma):=\lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma}\lambda_1(\Omega)=\inf
\sigma(\Delta)$ the bottom of the spectrum of an infinite graph
$\Gamma$ and by
$\bar{\lambda}(\Gamma):=\lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma}\lambda_{\mathrm{max}}(\Omega)=\sup
\sigma(\Delta)$ its top. It is well known that the spectral gap
for $\underline{\lambda}(\Gamma),$ i.e.
$\underline{\lambda}(\Gamma)>0,$ implies $\Gamma$ has exponential
volume growth and a fast heat kernel decay. Moreover, the spectral
gap for $\underline{\lambda}(\Gamma)$ is a rough-isometric
invariant (see e.g. \cite{Woess00}). We shall derive the
exponential volume growth condition for the spectral gap for
$\bar{\lambda}(\Gamma),$ i.e. $\bar{\lambda}(\Gamma)< 2,$ if we
further assume the graph $\Gamma$ is, in some sense, close to a
bipartite one. More importantly, we present some examples (see
Example \ref{ex2} and Example \ref{ex3}) to show that the spectral
gap for $\bar{\lambda}$ is not a rough-isometric invariant. Since
the dual Cheeger constant $\bar{h}(\Gamma)$ is closely related to
$\bar{\lambda}(\Gamma),$ it is follows that also
$\bar{h}(\Gamma)<1$ is not a rough-isometric invariant. Note that
in contrast, $h(\Gamma)>0$ is a rough-isometric invariant.
In Section \ref{Section9} we study the top of the spectrum of
infinite graphs with certain symmetries. A graph $\Gamma$ is
called quasi-transitive if it has only finitely many orbits by the
action of the group of automorphisms, $\mathrm{Aut}(\Gamma)$, i.e.
$\sharp\Gamma\slash \mathrm{Aut}(\Gamma)<\infty,$ see
\cite{Woess00}. It is obvious that Cayley graphs are
quasi-transitive. We prove in Theorem \ref{mainth1}
that for a non-bipartite quasi-transitive graph $\Gamma$,
$\bar{h}(\Gamma)\leq 1-\delta,$ where $\delta=\delta(\Gamma)>0.$
As a corollary (see Corollary \ref{mthlast}), we obtain that for a
quasi-transitive graph $\Gamma,$ $\bar{\lambda}(\Gamma)=2$ implies
that $\Gamma$ is bipartite. This is a generalization of a result
for Cayley graphs in \cite{HarpeRobertsonValette}. The proof in
\cite{HarpeRobertsonValette} is based on techniques from
functional analysis, in particular C*-algebras. Our proof is
completely different, since we use a combinatorial argument to
estimate the geometric quantity $\bar{h}(\Gamma)$. From the
geometric point of view this proof has the advantage that it can
easily be extended to quasi-transitive graphs, which is not true
for the proof technique used in \cite{HarpeRobertsonValette}.
In Section \ref{Section10} we investigate the essential spectrum
of infinite graphs. The main result is that the dual Cheeger
constant at infinity can be used to characterize that the
essential spectrum shrinks to one point. Let
$\sigma^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma)$ denote the essential spectrum of
an infinite graph $\Gamma.$
Note that the essential spectrum, which is related to the geometry at infinity, cannot be empty since the
normalized Laplace operator is bounded. Fujiwara \cite{Fujiwara96}
discovered (see also \cite{Keller10}) that the Cheeger constant at
infinity, denoted by $h_{\infty}$, is equal to 1 if and only if
the essential spectrum is smallest possible (i.e.
$\sigma^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma)=\{1\}$). We show the following
criteria of concentration of the essential spectrum by the dual
Cheeger constant at infinity, denoted by $\bar{h}_{\infty}$.
\begin{theo}[see Theorem \ref{hbar and h at infinity}]
Let $\Gamma$ be an infinite graph without self-loops. Then
$$\bar{h}_{\infty}(\Gamma)=0\Longleftrightarrow h_{\infty}(\Gamma)=1\Longleftrightarrow \sigma^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma)=\{1\}.$$
\end{theo}
The typical example here is a rapidly branching tree. This result
is somehow surprising since our results in Section \ref{Section8}
suggest that the dual Cheeger constant is weaker than the Cheeger
constant. However it turns out that at infinity (in the extreme
case $\bar{h}_\infty=0$ and $h_\infty=1$) both quantities contain
the same information. This is a new phenomenon for discrete
structures that has no
analogue for Riemannian manifolds. For graphs with
self-loops, we give an example which has
$\bar{h}_{\infty}=h_{\infty}=0$ and $\sigma^{\mathrm{ess}}=\{0\}.$
In another direction, we generalize the results about the
essential spectrum in \cite{Urakawa99} by the comparison method,
see Theorem \ref{lasts1}, \ref{ees1} and Corollary \ref{lasts2}.
These results are discrete analogues of results in
\cite{Donnelly81,Donnelly79}.
\section{Preliminaries}\label{Preliminaries}
Let $\Gamma=(V,E)$ denote a locally finite, connected graph with
infinitely many vertices. Here $V$ denotes the vertex and
$E\subset V\times V$ the edge set of $\Gamma$. In this article we
study weighted graphs, i.e. we consider a positive symmetric
weight function $\mu$ on the edge set $\mu:E\to \mathbb{R}_+$. In
particular, for the edge $e=(x,y)$ connecting $x$ and $y$ (also
denoted by $x\sim y$) we write $\mu(e) = \mu_{xy}$ and we extend
$\mu$ to the whole of $V\times V$ by setting $\mu_{xy}=0$ if
$(x,y)\notin E$. We point out that we do allow self-loops in the
graph, that is $\mu_{xx}>0$ is possible for all $x\in V$.
Moreover, we consider a measure $\mu$ (by abuse of notation, we
will also denote this measure by $\mu$ but this should not lead to
any confusion) on the vertex set $\mu:V\to \mathbb{R}_+$ defined
by $\mu(x) = \sum_{y\in V}\mu_{xy}$ for all $x\in V$. In this
paper, for simplicity, we always assume that $\Omega$ is a finite,
connected subset of $V$ (otherwise one can easily extend the
results to the connected components of $\Omega$), and the
cardinality of $\Omega$ satisfies $\sharp \Omega\geq2$ (if $\sharp
\Omega =1$, then the Dirichlet Laplace operator is trivial, i.e.
has one single eigenvalue which is equal to
$1-\frac{\mu_{xx}}{\mu(x)}$ - see below for more details). We
define the volume of $\Omega$ as $\mathrm{vol}(\Omega):=
\mu(\Omega) = \sum_{x\in \Omega}\mu(x)$. The boundary $\partial
\Omega$ of $\Omega$ is defined as the set of all vertices $y\notin
\Omega$ for which there exists a vertex $x\in \Omega$ such that
$x\sim y$ and we define $|\partial \Omega| = \sum_{x\in
\Omega}\sum_{y\in \Omega^c}\mu_{xy}$, where $\Omega^c$ denotes the
complement of $\Omega$.
For any two subsets $\Omega_1,\Omega_2\subset V$ we denote
$E(\Omega_1,\Omega_2)=\{(x,y)\in E: x\in \Omega_1, y\in
\Omega_2\}$ and $|E(\Omega_1,\Omega_2)| = \sum_{x\in
\Omega_1}\sum_{y\in \Omega_2}\mu_{xy}$. If $\Omega_1$ and
$\Omega_2$ are disjoint subsets of a simple ($\mu_{xx}=0$ for all
$x$) and unweighted (i.e. $\mu_{xy}=1$ for any $x\sim y$) graph
$\Gamma$, then $|E(\Omega_1,\Omega_2)|=\sharp
E(\Omega_1,\Omega_2)$ and $|E(\Omega_1,\Omega_1)|=2\sharp
E(\Omega_1,\Omega_1)$ where $\sharp E(\Omega_1,\Omega_2) (\sharp
E(\Omega_1,\Omega_1))$ is the number of edges in
$E(\Omega_1,\Omega_2) (E(\Omega_1,\Omega_1)).$ In particular, we
have $|\partial \Omega| = |E(\Omega, \Omega^c)|$. The following
formula connecting the volume and the boundary of a subset
$\Omega\subset V$ will be repeatedly used throughout this paper
\begin{equation}
\label{volumeformula}\mathrm{vol}(\Omega)=|E(\Omega,\Omega)| +
|E(\Omega,\Omega^c)|=|E(\Omega,\Omega)|+|\partial
\Omega|.\end{equation}
An important concept in this article is that of an exhaustion of
an infinite graph by finite subsets. A sequence of finite subsets
of an infinite graph $\Gamma$ satisfying
$\Omega_1\subset\Omega_2\subset\cdots\subset\Omega_n\subset\cdots$
and $\Gamma=\cup_{n=1}^{\infty}\Omega_n,$ denoted by
$\Omega\uparrow\Gamma,$ is called an exhaustion of $\Gamma.$ For
quantities that are monotone in $\Omega$, i.e. if
$\Omega_1\subset\Omega_2$ we have $f(\Omega_1) \leq f(\Omega_2)$
(or $f(\Omega_1) \geq f(\Omega_2)$) we write
$\lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma}f(\Omega) := \lim_{n\to\infty}
f(\Omega_n)= f(\Gamma)$. Note that for monotone functions in
$\Omega$ this limit exists and it does not depend on our choice of
the exhaustion.
Now we are going to introduce the main object of interest of this
article - the normalized Laplace operator of a graph. We introduce
the Hilbert space,
$$\ell^2(V,\mu) := \{f:V\to \mathbb{R}\; |\; (f,f)_\mu <\infty\}$$
where we denote the inner product on $\ell^2(V,\mu)$ by $(f,g)_\mu
= \sum_{x\in V}\mu(x)f(x)g(x)$. Note that the space of functions
with finite support denoted by $C_0(V)$ is dense in
$\ell^2(V,\mu)$, i.e. $\overline{C_0(V)}= \ell^2(V,\mu)$.
The normalized Laplace operator $\Delta:\ell^2(V,\mu)\to
\ell^2(V,\mu)$ is pointwise defined by
$$\Delta f(x) =f(x) - \frac{1}{\mu(x)}\sum_{y\in V} \mu_{xy}f(y).$$
It is well known (see e.g. \cite{DodziukKendall}) that $\Delta$ is
a nonnegative, self-adjoint operator whose spectrum is bounded
from above by two. We use the convention that the bottom and the
top of the spectrum of $\Delta$ are denoted by
$\underline{\lambda}(\Gamma) = \inf \sigma(\Delta)$ and
$\overline{\lambda}(\Gamma) = \sup \sigma(\Delta)$, respectively.
Besides the normalized Laplace operator $\Delta$ one can also
study the normalized Laplace operator with Dirichlet boundary
conditions. Let $\Omega$ be a finite subset of $V$ and
$\ell^2(\Omega,\mu)$ be the space of real-valued functions on
$\Omega$. Note that every function $f\in\ell^2(\Omega,\mu)$ can be
extended to a function $\tilde{f}\in\ell^2(V,\mu)$ by setting
$\tilde{f}(x)=0$ for all $x\in \Omega^c$. The Laplace operator
with Dirichlet boundary conditions $\Delta_\Omega$ is defined as
$\Delta_\Omega: \ell^2(\Omega,\mu) \to \ell^2(\Omega,\mu)$,
$$\Delta_\Omega f = (\Delta \tilde{f})_{|\Omega}.$$ Thus for $x\in
\Omega$ the Dirichlet Laplace operator is pointwise defined by
$$\Delta_\Omega f(x) = f(x) - \frac{1}{\mu(x)}\sum_{y\in\Omega} \mu_{xy}f(y) =
\tilde{f}(x) - \frac{1}{\mu(x)}\sum_{y\in V}
\mu_{xy}\tilde{f}(y).$$ A simple calculation shows that
$\Delta_\Omega$ is a positive self-adjoint operator. We arrange
the eigenvalues of the Dirichlet Laplace operator $\Delta_\Omega$
in increasing order, i.e. $\lambda_1(\Omega)\leq \lambda_2(\Omega)
\leq \ldots \leq \lambda_N(\Omega) $, where $N$ is the cardinality
of the set $\Omega$, i.e. $N = \sharp \Omega$. In the following we
will also denote the largest Dirichlet eigenvalue
$\lambda_N(\Omega)$ by $\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)$.
It is well known that the spectra of the Laplace operator $\Delta$
and the Laplace operator with Dirichlet boundary conditions
$\Delta_\Omega$ are connected to each other. In particular, for an
exhaustion $\Omega\uparrow\Gamma$ we have \cite{DodziukKendall}
\begin{equation}\label{Exhaustion}\lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma}\lambda_1(\Omega)=
\underline{\lambda}(\Gamma) \text{ and }
\lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma}\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)=
\overline{\lambda}(\Gamma).\end{equation} Note that these limits
are well defined since $\lambda_1(\Omega)$ and
$\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)$ are monotone in $\Omega$. Because
of this connection our strategy is to first study the eigenvalues
of the Dirichlet Laplace operator and then use an exhaustion of
the graph to estimate the top and the bottom of the spectrum of
the Laplace operator $\Delta$. In particular, we obtain estimates
for the essential spectrum of $\Delta$.
\section{The Dirichlet Laplace operator}\label{Section3}
The Dirichlet Laplace operator has the following basic properties:
\begin{lemma}[Basic properties of $\Delta_\Omega$]\label{BasicProperties}
\begin{itemize}\item[]
\item[$(i)$] $0<\lambda_1(\Omega)\leq 1-\frac{1}{\sharp
\Omega}\sum_{x\in\Omega}\frac{\mu_{xx}}{\mu(x)}\leq 1.$
\item[$(ii)$] $\lambda_1(\Omega)$ is a simple eigenvalue.
\item[$(iii)$] The eigenfunction $f_1$ corresponding to
$\lambda_1(\Omega)$ satisfies $f_1(x)>0$ or $f_1(x)<0$ for all
$x\in \Omega$.
\item[$(iv)$]$\lambda_1(\Omega)+\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega) \leq
2- 2\min_{x\in \Omega}\frac{\mu_{xx}}{\mu(x)}\leq 2$. \item[$(v)$]
$\lambda_1(\Omega)$ ($\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)$) is
nonincreasing (nondecreasing) when $\Omega$ increases.
\item[$(vi)$] The first eigenvalue is given by the Rayleigh
quotient
\begin{eqnarray} \label{Rayleigh
Lambda1}\lambda_1(\Omega) &=& \inf_{f\in\ell^2(\Omega,\mu)\neq
0}\frac{(\Delta_\Omega f,f)_\mu}{(f,f)_\mu}
\\&=&
\inf_{\tilde{f}\neq 0}\frac{\frac{1}{2} \sum_{x,y\in
V}\mu_{xy}(\tilde{f}(x)-\tilde{f}(y))^2}{\sum_{x\in V} \mu(x)
\tilde{f}^2(x)}\end{eqnarray} and the largest eigenvalue is given
by
\begin{eqnarray} \label{Rayleigh LambdaN}\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega) &=&
\sup_{f\in\ell^2(\Omega,\mu)\neq 0}\frac{(\Delta_\Omega
f,f)_\mu}{(f,f)_\mu}
\\ &=& \sup_{\tilde{f}\neq 0}\frac{\frac{1}{2}
\sum_{x,y\in V}\mu_{xy}(\tilde{f}(x)-\tilde{f}(y))^2}{\sum_{x\in
V} \mu(x) \tilde{f}^2(x)}\end{eqnarray}
\end{itemize}
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}
All these facts are well-known and can for instance be found in
\cite{Dodziuk84, Friedman93, Grigoryan09}.
\end{proof}
Before we continue we make the following two technical remarks.
\begin{rem}\begin{itemize}
\item[$(i)$] From the definition of the Dirichlet Laplace operator
one immediately observes that in the trivial case
$\sharp\Omega=1$, the Dirichlet Laplace operator has one single
eigenvalue which is equal to $1-\frac{\mu_{xx}}{\mu(x)}$. Because
of this we restrict ourselves from now on to subsets
$\Omega\subset V$ with $\sharp \Omega>1$. \item[$(ii)$] Often it
is convenient to sum over edges instead of vertices or vice versa.
However if there are loops in the graph we have
$$\frac{1}{2}\sum_{x,y\in V}\mu_{xy}\neq \sum_{e=(x,y)\in E}\mu_{xy}.$$ This is the case
because in the first sum the loops are only counted once. Hence in
order to replace a sum over vertices by a sum over edges we have
to adjust the edge weights. We define a new weight function
$\theta:E\to \mathbb{R}_+$ on the edge set $E$ by
$\theta_{xy}=\mu_{xy}$ for all $x\neq y\in V$ and
$\theta_{xx}=\frac{1}{2}\mu_{xx}$ for all $x\in V$. For these new
edge weights we have
$$\frac{1}{2}\sum_{x,y\in V}\mu_{xy}= \sum_{e=(x,y)\in
E}\theta_{xy}.$$ Note that $\theta:E\to \mathbb{R}_+$ coincides
with $\mu:E\to \mathbb{R}_+$ in the case $\Gamma$ has no loops.
\end{itemize}
\end{rem}
\begin{lemma}[Green's formula]\label{GreenLemma}
Let $f,g\in \ell^2(\Omega,\mu)$ then,
\begin{eqnarray}\label{Green} (\Delta_\Omega f,g)_\mu
&=& \frac{1}{2}\sum_{x,y\in V}\mu_{xy}
(\nabla_{xy}\tilde{f})(\nabla_{xy}\tilde{g})
\\&=&
\frac{1}{2}\sum_{x,y\in
V}\mu_{xy}(\tilde{f}(x)-\tilde{f}(y))(\tilde{g}(x)-\tilde{g}(y))
\\&=& \sum_{e=(x,y)\in E}\theta_{xy}(\tilde{f}(x)-\tilde{f}(y))(\tilde{g}(x)-\tilde{g}(y)),
\end{eqnarray}where $\nabla$ is the co-boundary operator. More precisely, if we fix an orientation on the edge set
the co-boundary operator of an edge $e= (x,y)$ from $x$ to $y$ is
given by $\nabla_{xy}f = f(x)-f(y)$.
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}See \cite{Dodziuk84, Grigoryan09}.
\end{proof}
We recall here the well-known eigenvalue interlacing theorem
sometimes also referred to as the {\it inclusion principle} (cf.
\cite{Horn90}).
\begin{lemma}\label{interlacing}
Let $A$ be a $N\times N$ Hermitian matrix, let $r$ be an integer
with $1\leq r\leq N-1$ and let $A_{N-r}$ denote the
$(N-r)\times(N-r)$ principle submatrix of $A$ obtained by deleting
$r$ rows and the corresponding columns from $A$. For each integer
$k$ such that $1\leq k\leq N-r$ the eigenvalues of $A$ and
$A_{N-r}$ satisfy
$$\lambda_k(A)\leq \lambda_k(A_{N-r})\leq \lambda_{k+r}(A).$$
\end{lemma}
Lemma \ref{interlacing} yields the following generalization of
Lemma \ref{BasicProperties} $(v)$.
\begin{coro}
Let $\Omega_2\subset\Omega_1\subset V$ such that
$\sharp\Omega_1=N$ and $\sharp\Omega_2=N-r$. Then the Dirichlet
eigenvalues of $\Delta_{\Omega_1}$ and $\Delta_{\Omega_2}$
interlace, i.e.
\begin{equation}\label{interlacing3}\lambda_k(\Omega_1)\leq
\lambda_k(\Omega_2)\leq \lambda_{k+r}(\Omega_1)\end{equation} for
all integers $1\leq k\leq N-r$. In particular,
$$\lambda_1(\Omega_1) \leq \lambda_1(\Omega_2)
\text{ and } \lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega_2)\leq
\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega_1).$$
\end{coro}
\begin{proof}
Looking at a matrix representation of the Dirichlet Laplace
operator of a subset $\Omega$ (also denoted by $\Delta_\Omega$) we
observe that $\Delta_\Omega = I_\Omega - D_\Omega^{-1}W_\Omega$ is
not Hermitian or in this case real symmetric. Here $I_\Omega$,
$D_\Omega$ and $W_\Omega$ are the identity matrix, the diagonal
matrix of vertex degrees and the weighted adjacency matrix of
$\Omega$, respectively. Note that since $\Omega$ is connected,
$\mu(x)>0$ for all $x\in \Omega$ and hence $D^{-1}$ always exists.
So we cannot directly apply Lemma \ref{interlacing} to our
Dirichlet Laplace operator $\Delta_\Omega$. However, Chung's
version of the Dirichlet Laplace operator \cite{Chung97}
$\mathcal{L}_\Omega = I_\Omega - D_\Omega^{-\frac{1}{2}}W_\Omega
D_\Omega^{-\frac{1}{2}}$ is real symmetric. Hence we can apply
Lemma \ref{interlacing} and obtain that the eigenvalues of
$\mathcal{L}_{\Omega_1}$ and $\mathcal{L}_{\Omega_2}$ interlace.
Now we observe that for any $\Omega$ the Laplacians
$\Delta_\Omega$ and $\mathcal{L}_\Omega$ satisfy
$$\Delta_\Omega = D_\Omega^{-\frac{1}{2}}\mathcal{L}_\Omega D_\Omega^{\frac{1}{2}},$$
i.e. $\Delta_\Omega$ and $\mathcal{L}_\Omega$ are similar to each
other and hence have the same spectrum. Since this holds for all
$\Omega$ it follows that if the eigenvalues of
$\mathcal{L}_{\Omega_1}$ and $\mathcal{L}_{\Omega_2}$ satisfy
(\ref{interlacing3}), then the same is true for the eigenvalues of
$\Delta_{\Omega_1}$ and $\Delta_{\Omega_2}$.
\end{proof}
For the rest of this section we have a closer look at the
Dirichlet eigenvalues of subsets $\Omega$ that are bipartite. We
say a subset $\Omega\subset V$ is bipartite if $\Omega$ is a
bipartite induced subgraph of $\Gamma$. Recall that a graph
(subgraph) is bipartite if and only if it does not contain a cycle
of odd length.
\begin{lemma}\label{symmetric eigenvalues}Let $\Omega$ be bipartite. Then the eigenvalues of
the Dirichlet Laplace operator satisfy: with $\lambda(\Omega)$,
$2-\lambda(\Omega)$ is also an eigenvalue of $\Delta_\Omega$, i.e.
the spectrum is symmetric about $1$.
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof} The proof is very simple - it relies on the observation that
if $f$ is an eigenfunction for $\lambda(\Omega)$, then for a
bipartition $U,\overline{U}$ of $\Omega$
$$g(x) = \left\{\begin{array}{cc}f(x) & \text{ if } x\in U\\
-f(x) & \text{ if } x\in \overline{U}
\end{array}\right.$$
is also an eigenfunction for $\Delta_\Omega$ corresponding to the
eigenvalue $2-\lambda(\Omega)$.
\end{proof}For this result we obtain immediately the following
useful corollaries.
\begin{coro}\label{Largest Eigenvalue is simple}
The largest eigenvalue $\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)$ is simple if
$\Omega$ is bipartite.
\end{coro}
\begin{proof}This is a direct consequence of Lemma
\ref{BasicProperties} $(ii)$ and Lemma \ref{symmetric
eigenvalues}.
\end{proof}
\begin{coro}Let $\Omega$ be bipartite. Then the eigenfunction
$f_\mathrm{max}$ corresponding to the largest eigenvalue satisfies
$f_\mathrm{max}(x) \neq 0$ for all $x \in \Omega$.
\end{coro}
\begin{proof}From the proof of the last lemma we know that if
$f_1$ is the eigenfunction for the smallest eigenvalue then the
eigenfunction for the largest eigenvalue is given by
\begin{equation}\label{explicit expression for fmax}f_\mathrm{max}(x) = \left\{\begin{array}{cc}f_1(x) & \text{ if } x\in U\\
-f_1(x) & \text{ if } x\in \overline{U}.
\end{array}\right.\end{equation} By Lemma \ref{BasicProperties} $(iii)$ we have $f_1(x) \neq 0$ for all $x\in \Omega$ and
hence $f_\mathrm{max}(x)\neq 0$ for all $x\in \Omega$.
\end{proof}
\begin{theo}\label{Lembi}
We have $\lambda_1(\Omega) + \lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega) = 2$ iff
$\Omega$ is bipartite.
\end{theo}
\begin{proof}By Lemma \ref{symmetric eigenvalues}, it suffices to prove that $\lambda_1(\Omega) + \lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega) = 2$ implies
$\Omega$ is bipartite. It is well known (see c.f.
\cite{Grigoryan09}) that $\lambda_1(\Omega) +
\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega) \leq 2.$ Let $f$ be an eigenfunction
for $\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)$. Then we have
$$\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega) = \frac{\frac{1}{2}\sum_{x,y}\mu_{xy}(f(x)-f(y))^2}{\sum_x
\mu(x)f(x)^2}$$ and \begin{eqnarray}\label{Estimate3}
\lambda_1(\Omega) &=& \inf_g
\frac{\frac{1}{2}\sum_{x,y}\mu_{xy}(g(x)-g(y))^2}{\sum_x
\mu(x)g(x)^2} \\&\leq& \label{Estimate4}
\frac{\frac{1}{2}\sum_{x,y}\mu_{xy}(|f|(x)-|f|(y))^2}{\sum_x
\mu(x)|f|(x)^2}.
\end{eqnarray}
We have
\begin{eqnarray}(f(x) - f(y))^2 + (|f|(x) - |f|(y))^2 &=&
2 f(x)^2 + 2f(y)^2 - 2f(x)f(y) -
2|f|(x)|f|(y)\nonumber\\&\leq& 2 f(x)^2 + 2f(y)^2.
\label{Estimate} \end{eqnarray} Thus we have
\begin{eqnarray}\lambda_1(\Omega) + \lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega) \nonumber &\overset{(*)}{\leq}&
\frac{\frac{1}{2}\sum_{x,y}\mu_{xy}[(f(x)-f(y))^2+
(|f|(x)-|f|(y))^2]}{\sum_x \mu(x)f(x)^2}\\&\overset{(**)}{\leq}&
\nonumber \frac{\sum_{x,y}\mu_{xy}(f(x)^2 + f(y)^2)}{\sum_x
\mu(x)f(x)^2}
\\&=&\frac{2\sum_{x,y}\mu_{xy}f(x)^2}{\sum_x \mu(x)f(x)^2}\nonumber \\
&=&\label{Estimate2} 2.
\end{eqnarray}
Now we have a closer look at equation (\ref{Estimate}). We have
strict inequality in (\ref{Estimate}) and hence in $(**)$ of
(\ref{Estimate2}) if $f(x)f(y)>0$ for some $x\sim y$. Suppose that
$\Omega$ is not bipartite, then $\Omega$ contains a cycle $C$ of
odd length with no repeated vertices (called circuit) and hence
there exists at least one pair of neighbors $x\sim y$ such that
$f(x)f(y)\geq 0$, (if not, $f$ has alternating signs along the
cycle $C$ which contradicts to the odd length of $C$). If
$f(x)f(y)> 0$ we are done. Otherwise there exists at least one
vertex $x\in \Omega$ such that $f(x)=0$ and hence $|f|(x) =0$.
From Lemma \ref{BasicProperties} $(iii)$ it follows that $|f|$ is
not an eigenfunction for $\lambda_1(\Omega).$ Hence we have strict
inequality in (\ref{Estimate4}) and then also in $(*)$ of
(\ref{Estimate2}). Thus $\lambda_1(\Omega) +
\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)< 2$ if $\Omega$ is not bipartite. It
remains to show that $\lambda_1(\Omega) +
\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)= 2$ if $\Omega$ is bipartite. This
follows immediately from Lemma \ref{symmetric eigenvalues} since
the eigenvalues of the Dirichlet Laplace operator $\Delta_\Omega$
are symmetric about 1 if $\Omega$ is bipartite.
\end{proof}
\section{The Cheeger and the dual Cheeger estimate}\label{Section4}
In this section we introduce the Cheeger constant $h$ and the dual
Cheeger constant $\bar{h}$ of a graph and show how they can be
used to estimate the smallest and the largest eigenvalue of the
Dirichlet Laplace operator from above and below. Moreover, we
discuss in detail the connection between $h$ and $\bar{h}$. This
will be particularly important in Section \ref{Section10} when we
study the essential spectrum of the Laplace operator $\Delta$.
\begin{defi}[Cheeger constant]
For any subset $\Omega\subset V$ we define the Cheeger constant
$h(\Omega)$ by
$$h(\Omega) = \inf_{\substack{\emptyset\neq U\subset \Omega\\\sharp U <\infty}}\frac{|\partial U|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)}.$$
\end{defi}
\begin{defi}[Dual Cheeger constant]
For any subset $\Omega\subset V$ we define the dual Cheeger
constant $\bar{h}(\Omega)$ by
\begin{equation}\label{dcc}\bar{h}(\Omega) =
\sup_{\substack{V_1, V_2\subset \Omega\\\sharp V_1, \sharp
V_2<\infty}}\frac{2|E(V_1,V_2)|}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1)+\mathrm{vol}(V_2)},\end{equation}
where $V_1,V_2$ are two disjoint nonempty subsets of $\Omega$.
\end{defi} We observe that the dual Cheeger constant can only be defined
if $\sharp\Omega>1$. However, as discussed above we exclude the
case $\sharp\Omega=1$ since it is trivial anyway. The Cheeger
constant and the dual Cheeger constant are related to each other
in the following way:
\begin{theo}\label{h and hbar} We have
$$\bar{h}(\Omega)\leq 1-h(\Omega)$$ and
equality holds if $\Omega$ is bipartite.
\end{theo}
\begin{proof}
Let $V_1,V_2\subset \Omega$ be two nonempty disjoint subsets of
$\Omega$. Note that the volume of the subset $V_1$, can be written
in the form (cf. eq. (\ref{volumeformula}))
$$\mathrm{vol}(V_1) = |E(V_1,V_2)| + |E(V_1,V_1)| + |E(V_1,(V_1\cup
V_2)^c)|$$and a similar expression holds for the volume of $V_2$.
Hence we have
\begin{eqnarray}\label{VolumeV1V2}\nonumber \mathrm{vol}(V_1)+\mathrm{vol}(V_2) &=& 2 |E(V_1,V_2)| + |E(V_1,V_1)| + |E(V_2,V_2)|
+ |\partial(V_1\cup V_2)|
\\&\geq& 2 |E(V_1,V_2)| + |\partial (V_1\cup V_2)|.
\end{eqnarray}
From this it follows that
$$\frac{2|E(V_1,V_2)|}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1)+\mathrm{vol}(V_2)}
\leq 1 - \frac{|\partial(V_1\cup V_2)|}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1\cup
V_2)}.$$ Taking the supremum over all nonempty disjoint subsets
$V_1,V_2\subset \Omega$ we get \begin{eqnarray}\ \ \
\bar{h}(\Omega) &\overset{(*)}{=}& \sup_{V_1,V_2\subset
\Omega}\frac{2|E(V_1,V_2)|}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1)+\mathrm{vol}(V_2)}
\leq \sup_{V_1,V_2\subset \Omega} \left(1 - \frac{|\partial
(V_1\cup V_2)|}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1\cup V_2)}\right)\label{estimate5}
\\&=& 1 - \inf_{U\subset \Omega, \sharp U\geq 2}\frac{|\partial
U|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)} \overset{(**)}{=} 1 -
\inf_{U\subset\Omega}\frac{|\partial U|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)} =
1-h(\Omega),\nonumber\end{eqnarray} where $(**)$ follows from the
fact that $\inf_{U\subset\Omega}\frac{|\partial
U|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)}$ cannot be achieved on singletons, i.e.
$\sharp U=1$. More precisely, if $\sharp U =1$ then clearly
$\frac{|\partial U|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)}=1$. However, since $\sharp
\Omega>1$ and $\Omega$ is connected, we can find $W\subset \Omega$
such that $|E(W,W)|>0$. Thus we have $$\frac{|\partial
W|}{\mathrm{vol}(W)}= \frac{|\partial W|}{|\partial W| +
|E(W,W)|}<1$$ which contradicts that $U$ achieves the infimum.
Now if $\Omega$ is bipartite, we claim that in $(*)$ of
\eqref{estimate5} the supremum is obtained for two subsets
$V_1,V_2\subset\Omega$ that satisfy $|E(V_1,V_1)| =
|E(V_2,V_2)|=0$. If it is not the case, there exists $V_1^\prime,
V_2^\prime\subset \Omega$ that achieve the supremum in $(*)$ of
\eqref{estimate5} and satisfy $|E(V_1^\prime, V_1^\prime)|\neq 0$
or $|E(V_2^\prime, V_2^\prime)|\neq 0$. Since $\Omega$ is
bipartite (i.e. in particular $\mu_{xx}=0$ for any $x\in V$), we
can find nonempty disjoint subsets $V_1, V_2\subset \Omega$ that
satisfy $V_1\cup V_2 = V_1^\prime\cup V_2^\prime$ and
$|E(V_1,V_1)| = |E(V_2,V_2)|=0$. Then we have
$$\frac{1}{2}\sum_{x,y \in V_1\cup V_2}\mu_{xy} = |E(V_1,V_2)| +\frac{1}{2}
|E(V_1,V_1)|+ \frac{1}{2}|E(V_2,V_2)| = |E(V_1,V_2)| $$ and
$$\frac{1}{2}\sum_{x,y \in V_1^\prime\cup V_2^\prime}\mu_{xy} =
|E(V_1^\prime,V_2^\prime)| + \frac{1}{2}|E(V_1^\prime,
V_1^\prime)| +\frac{1}{2} |E(V_2^\prime,
V_2^\prime)|>|E(V_1^\prime, V_2^\prime)|,$$ where we used in the
last equation that $|E(V_1^\prime, V_1^\prime)|\neq 0$ or
$|E(V_2^\prime, V_2^\prime)|\neq 0$. By construction we have
$V_1\cup V_2 = V_1^\prime\cup V_2^\prime$ which implies
$|E(V_1^\prime,V_2^\prime)|< |E(V_1,V_2)|$ and $\mathrm{vol}(V_1)
+ \mathrm{vol}(V_2) =\mathrm{vol}(V_1^\prime) +
\mathrm{vol}(V_2^\prime)$. This is a contradiction to the
assumption that $V_1^\prime, V_2^\prime$ achieve the supremum in
$(*)$ of \eqref{estimate5}.
Using \eqref{VolumeV1V2} and the claim in (\ref{estimate5}), we
have
\begin{eqnarray}\ \ \ \bar{h}(\Omega) &=&
\sup_{\substack{V_1,V_2\subset
\Omega\\|E(V_1,V_1)|=0\\|E(V_2,V_2)|=0}}\frac{2|E(V_1,V_2)|}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1)+\mathrm{vol}(V_2)}
= \sup_{\substack{V_1,V_2\subset
\Omega\\|E(V_1,V_1)|=0\\|E(V_2,V_2)|=0}} \left(1 - \frac{|\partial
(V_1\cup V_2)|}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1\cup V_2)}\right)\nonumber \\
&=& \sup_{V_1,V_2\subset \Omega} \left(1 - \frac{|\partial
(V_1\cup V_2)|}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1\cup V_2)}\right)\label{estimate6}
= 1 - \inf_{\substack{U\subset\Omega\\ \sharp U\geq 2}}\frac{|\partial U|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)}\\
&=& 1 - \inf_{U\subset\Omega}\frac{|\partial U|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)}
= 1-h(\Omega),\nonumber\end{eqnarray} where in \eqref{estimate6}
we use the fact (since $\Omega$ is bipartite) that for any
disjoint $V_1,V_2$ there exist disjoint $U_1$ and $U_2$ such that
$V_1\cup V_2 = U_1\cup U_2$ and $|E(U_1,U_1)| = |E(U_2,U_2)|=0$.
\end{proof}
The next example shows that the converse of the second assertion
in Theorem \ref{h and hbar} is in general not true, i.e.
$h(\Omega) +\bar{h}(\Omega) =1$ does not imply that $\Omega$ is
bipartite.
\begin{example}\label{counterexample1} Let $G$ be the standard
lattice $\mathds{Z}^2$ with one more edge, $((0,1),(1,0))$, and
$\Omega'$ a finite subset of $G$ containing the origin and the
additional edge, i.e. $(0,0)\in \Omega'$ and $((0,1),(1,0))\in
E(\Omega',\Omega').$ Denote by $M:=\mathrm{vol}(\Omega')$ the
volume of $\Omega'.$ Moreover, let $K_{m,n}$ be a large complete
bipartite graph such that $K:=\mathrm{vol}(K_{m,n})\geq M.$ By
adding an edge that connects the origin in $\Omega'$ to a vertex
in $K_{m,n},$ we obtain an infinite graph, $\Gamma=G\cup K_{m,n}$,
see Figure \ref{Fig.lattice}. Let $\Omega:=\Omega'\cup K_{m,n}.$
First of all we note that $\Omega$ is not bipartite. However, we
will show that $h(\Omega) +\bar{h}(\Omega) =1$ holds. We claim
that $U_0:=K_{m,n}$ achieves the Cheeger constant in $\Omega$,
i.e. $\frac{|\partial U_0|}{\mathrm{vol}(U_0)}\leq \frac{|\partial
U|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)},$ for any $U\subset \Omega$. Note that by
construction of $\Omega$, $U_0$ is the only subset of $\Omega$
s.t. $|\partial U|=1$, i.e. $|\partial U|=1$ implies that $U =
U_0$. Thus for all $U\neq U_0$
$$\frac{|\partial U|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)}\geq
\frac{2}{\mathrm{vol}(U)}\geq \frac{2}{\mathrm{vol}(\Omega)} \geq
\frac{2}{K+M+2}.$$ Since $M\leq K,$
$$\frac{|\partial U|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)}\geq \frac{1}{K+1}=
\frac{|\partial U_0|}{\mathrm{vol}(U_0)}.$$ This proves our claim
that $U_0$ achieves the Cheeger constant. Moreover by choosing
$V_1,\ V_2$ to be the bipartition of $K_{m,n}$ we have
$$\bar{h}(\Omega) = \sup_{V_1,V_2\subset \Omega}\frac{2|E(V_1,V_2)|}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1) + \mathrm{vol}(V_2)}\geq \frac{K}{K+1}$$ and thus
$$h(\Omega) + \bar{h}(\Omega)\geq \frac{1}{K+1}+
\frac{K}{K+1}=1.$$ Together with Theorem \ref{h and hbar} this
implies that $h(\Omega) +\bar{h}(\Omega) =1$ although $\Omega$ is
not bipartite.
\end{example}
\begin{figure}\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width =
7cm]{latticewithbipartite.pdf}\caption{\label{Fig.lattice}The graph in Example \ref{counterexample1}.}
\end{center}
\end{figure}
\begin{rem}The last example showed that $h(\Omega)
+\bar{h}(\Omega) =1$ does not imply that $\Omega$ is bipartite.
However, if $h(\Omega) +\bar{h}(\Omega) =1$ we can show that the
partition $V_1,V_2$ that achieves $\bar{h}(\Omega)$ is bipartite.
This can be seen as follows: Let $V_1,V_2$ be the partition that
achieves $\bar{h}(\Omega)$ and let $U = V_1\cup V_2$. Then by
definition $\frac{|\partial U|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)}\geq h(\Omega)$
and thus we have
$$1 = h(\Omega) +\bar{h}(\Omega) \leq \frac{2|E(V_1,V_2)| + |\partial(V_1\cup V_2)|}
{2|E(V_1,V_2)| + |E(V_1,V_1)| + |E(V_2,V_2)| + |\partial(V_1\cup
V_2)|}.$$ This implies that $|E(V_1,V_1)| = |E(V_2,V_2)|=0$ which
yields that the partition $V_1,V_2$ is bipartite.
\end{rem}
In order to give a lower bound for $\bar{h}(\Omega)$ in terms of
$(1-h(\Omega))$ we recall the following theorem from
\cite{Bauer12}:
\begin{theo}\label{surgery} Let $\Gamma$ be a graph without self-loops. Then for any finite $U \subset V$ there exists a partition
$V_1\cup V_2 =U$ such that \begin{equation}\label{surgery
equation}|E(V_1,V_2)| \geq \max\{|E(V_1,V_1)|,
|E(V_2,V_2)|\}.\end{equation}
\end{theo}
\begin{proof} For completeness, we include a proof here.
Suppose the assertion is not true, that is for any partition
$V_1\cup V_2=U$ we have
\begin{equation}\label{converse1}
|E(V_1,V_2)| < \max\{|E(V_1,V_1)|, |E(V_2,V_2)|\}.
\end{equation}
We start with an arbitrarily partition $V_1\cup V_2=U.$ Without
loss of generality, we assume $|E(V_1,V_2)|<|E(V_1,V_1)|,$ i.e.
$$\sum_{x\in V_1}\sum_{y\in V_2}\mu_{xy}<\sum_{x\in V_1}\sum_{z\in V_1}\mu_{xz}.$$
Then there exists a vertex $x\in V_1$ such that $$0\leq \sum_{y\in
V_2}\mu_{xy}=|E(\{x\}, V_2)|<\sum_{z\in
V_1}\mu_{xz}=|E(\{x\},V_1)|.$$ Since $|E(\{x\},V_1)|>0$ it follows
that $\sharp V_1\geq 2$ because otherwise $V_1=\{x\}$ and hence
$E(\{x\},V_1)=0$. We define a new partition, $V_1'\cup V_2'=U,$ as
$$V_1'=V_1\backslash \{x\}\neq\emptyset,\ V_2'=V_2\cup \{x\}.$$
Then it is evident that
$$|E(V_1',V_2')|=|E(V_1,V_2)|+|E(\{x\},V_1)|-|E(\{x\},V_2)|\geq |E(V_1,V_2)|+\epsilon_0,$$
where
\begin{eqnarray*}\epsilon_0&:=&\min \{|E(\{x\},V_1)|-|E(\{x\},V_2)|:\\ && V_1\cup V_2=U, V_1\cap V_2=\emptyset, x\in U, |E(\{x\},V_1)|-|E(\{x\},V_2)|>0\}.\end{eqnarray*}
Note that since $U$ is finite and by our assumption
\eqref{converse1}, it follows that $\epsilon_0>0.$
Since \eqref{converse1} holds for all partitions, we may carry out
this process for infinitely many times. That is we may obtain
arbitrary large $|E(V_1,V_2)|$ which contradicts that
$\mathrm{vol}(U)<\infty.$
\end{proof}
\begin{theo}\label{h and hbar 3} If there are no self-loops
in the graph, then
\begin{equation} \label{h and hbar 2}\frac{1}{2}(1 - h(\Omega))\leq
\bar{h}(\Omega).\end{equation}
\end{theo}
\begin{proof}We have
\begin{eqnarray*}
\bar{h}(\Omega) &=& \sup_{\substack{U\subset \Omega\\\sharp U \geq
2}} \sup_{\substack{V_1,V_2\\V_1\cup V_2 = U}}
\frac{2|E(V_1,V_2)|}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1) + \mathrm{vol}(V_2)}\\&=&
\sup_{\substack{U\subset \Omega\\\sharp U \geq 2}}
\sup_{\substack{V_1,V_2\\V_1\cup V_2 = U}}
\left(\frac{2|E(V_1,V_2)| + \frac{1}{2}|\partial(V_1\cup
V_2)|}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1) + \mathrm{vol}(V_2)} - \frac{1}{2}\frac{
|\partial(V_1\cup V_2)|}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1) +
\mathrm{vol}(V_2)}\right)\\&=& \sup_{\substack{U\subset
\Omega\\\sharp U \geq 2}} \sup_{\substack{V_1,V_2\\V_1\cup V_2 =
U}} \left(\frac{2|E(V_1,V_2)| + \frac{1}{2}|\partial(V_1\cup
V_2)|}{2|E(V_1,V_2)|+ |E(V_1,V_1)| +|E(V_2,V_2)| +
|\partial(V_1\cup V_2)| }\right.\\&&- \left.\frac{1}{2}\frac{
|\partial(V_1\cup V_2)|}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1) +
\mathrm{vol}(V_2)}\right).
\end{eqnarray*}
Using Theorem \ref{surgery} we obtain
\begin{eqnarray*}
\bar{h}(\Omega) &\geq& \sup_{\substack{U\subset \Omega\\\sharp U
\geq 2}} \left(\frac{1}{2} - \frac{1}{2}\frac{|\partial
U|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)}\right)\\&=& \frac{1}{2} - \frac{1}{2}
\inf_{U\subset \Omega} \frac{|\partial U|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)}\\&=&
\frac{1}{2}(1 - h(\Omega)),
\end{eqnarray*}where we again observe that the infimum of $\frac{|\partial
U|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)}$ cannot be achieved by a singleton.
\end{proof}
\begin{rem}
\begin{itemize}\item[$(i)$]
It is clear that for weighted graphs with self-loops
$\bar{h}(\Omega)$ can be arbitrarily close to zero. Consider for
instance a subgraph consisting of two vertices connected by an
edge. If one of the two vertices (say vertex $x$) has a self-loop
with weight $\mu_{xx}$, then both $\bar{h}(\Omega)$ and
$h(\Omega)\to 0$ as $\mu_{xx}\to \infty$. \item[$(ii)$]If we allow
self-loops in the graph the best lower bound for $\bar{h}(\Omega)$
that we can obtain is $\bar{h}(\Omega)\geq \frac{2 \min_{x,y\in
\Omega}\mu_{xy}}{\mathrm{vol(\Omega)}}$. This estimate is sharp
for the graph discussed in $(i)$ as $\mu_{xx}\to \infty$.
\item[$(iii)$] Using an argument by Alon \cite{Alon96} and
Hofmeister and Lefmann \cite{Hofmeister98} (see also Scott
\cite{Scott05}) we can show that even strict inequality holds in
\eqref{h and hbar 2}.
\end{itemize}
\end{rem}
We introduce the following notation:
\begin{defi}For a function $g\in
\ell^2(\Omega,\mu)$ we define $P(g):= \{x\in \Omega: g(x)>0\}$ and
$N(g):= \{x\in \Omega: g(x)<0\}$.
\end{defi}
\begin{defi}[Auxiliary Cheeger constant]
For a function $g\in \ell^2(\Omega,\mu)$ the auxiliary Cheeger
constant $h(\Omega,g)$ is defined by \be \label{hg} h(\Omega,g) :=
\min_{\emptyset \neq U \subseteq P(g)}\frac{|E(U,U^c)|}
{\mathrm{vol}(U)}.\qe
\end{defi}
\begin{rem}\label{Remark} Since for every function $g\in\ell^2(\Omega,\mu)$ we have
$P(g)\subset\Omega$ it is obvious that $h(\Omega,g)\geq h(\Omega)$
for all $g\in\ell^2(\Omega,\mu)$.
\end{rem}We
recall the following two lemmata from \cite{Diaconis91}, see also
\cite{Bauer12}.
\begin{lemma}\label{Lemma1}
For every function $g\in \ell^2(\Omega,\mu)$ we have
\[1+\sqrt{1-h^2(\Omega, g)}\geq \frac{\sum_{e=(x,y)}\mu_{xy}(\tilde{g}_+(x)-\tilde{g}_+(y))^2}
{\sum_x \mu(x)\tilde{g}_+(x)^2}\geq 1-\sqrt{1-h^2(\Omega, g)}, \]
where $g_+$ is the positive part of $g$, i.e.
\[g_+(x)=\left\{\begin{array}{ccc} g(x) & \mbox{ if}& x\in P(g)\\0 &&
else. \end{array}\right.\]
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}
First, we write
\begin{eqnarray*}W&:=& \frac{\sum_{e=(x,y)}\mu_{xy}(\tilde{g}_+(x)-\tilde{g}_+(y))^2}{\sum_x
\mu(x)\tilde{g}_+(x)^2}\\&=&
\frac{\sum_{e=(x,y)}\theta_{xy}(\tilde{g}_+(x)-\tilde{g}_+(y))^2}{\sum_x \mu(x)\tilde{g}_+(x)^2}\\
&=&
\frac{\sum_{e=(x,y)}\theta_{xy}(\tilde{g}_+(x)-\tilde{g}_+(y))^2
\sum_{e=(x,y)}\theta_{xy}(\tilde{g}_+(x)+\tilde{g}_+(y))^2}{\sum_x
\mu(x)\tilde{g}_+(x)^2
\sum_{e=(x,y)}\theta_{xy}(\tilde{g}_+(x)+\tilde{g}_+(y))^2}
\\&=:& \frac{I}{II}.\end{eqnarray*} Using the Cauchy-Schwarz
inequality we obtain
\[I \geq \left(\sum_{e=(x,y)}\theta_{xy}|\tilde{g}_+(x)^2-\tilde{g}_+(y)^2|\right)^2
=\left(\sum_{e=(x,y)}\mu_{xy}|\tilde{g}_+(x)^2-\tilde{g}_+(y)^2|\right)^2.\]
Now we have
\begin{eqnarray*}\sum_{e=(x,y)}\mu_{xy}|\tilde{g}_+(x)^2-\tilde{g}_+(y)^2|&=& \sum_{e=(x,y):\tilde{g}_+(x)> \tilde{g}_+(y)}\mu_{xy}(\tilde{g}_+(x)^2-\tilde{g}_+(y)^2)\\&=& 2
\sum_{e=(x,y):\tilde{g}_+(x)>
\tilde{g}_+(y)}\mu_{xy}\int_{\tilde{g}_+(y)}^{\tilde{g}_+(x)}t
dt\\&=& 2 \int_{0}^{\infty} \sum_{e=(x,y):\tilde{g}_+(y)\leq t<
\tilde{g}_+(x)}\mu_{xy} \,tdt.
\end{eqnarray*}Note that $\sum_{e=(x,y):\tilde{g}_+(y)\leq t< \tilde{g}_+(x)}\mu_{xy}=|E(P_t,P_t^c)|$
where $P_t:= \{x:\tilde{g}_+(x)>t\}$. Using \rf{hg} we obtain,
\begin{eqnarray*}\sum_{e=(x,y)}\mu_{xy}|\tilde{g}_+(x)^2-\tilde{g}_+(y)^2|&\geq& 2
h(\Omega, g)\int_0^\infty\mathrm{vol}(P_t)tdt\\&=& 2 h(\Omega,
g)\int_0^\infty\sum_{x:\tilde{g}_+(x)>t}\mu(x)tdt\\&=& 2
h(\Omega, g)\sum_{x\in V}\mu(x)\int_0^{\tilde{g}_+(x)}tdt
\\&=& h(\Omega, g)\sum_x\mu(x)\tilde{g}_+(x)^2
\end{eqnarray*}and so it follows that \[I\geq h^2(\Omega,g)(\sum_x\mu(x)\tilde{g}_+(x)^2)^2.\]
\begin{eqnarray*}II&=& \sum_x \mu(x)\tilde{g}_+(x)^2
\sum_{e=(x,y)}\theta_{xy}(\tilde{g}_+(x)+\tilde{g}_+(y))^2 \\&=&
\sum_x \mu(x)\tilde{g}_+(x)^2 (\sum_x\mu(x)\tilde{g}_+(x)^2 +
\sum_{x,y}\mu_{xy}\tilde{g}_+(x)\tilde{g}_+(y))\\&=& \sum_x
\mu(x)\tilde{g}_+(x)^2 (2\sum_x\mu(x)\tilde{g}_+(x)^2 -
\sum_{e=(x,y)}\mu_{xy}(\tilde{g}_+(x)-\tilde{g}_+(y))^2)\\&=&
(2-W)(\sum_x \mu(x)\tilde{g}_+(x)^2)^2.
\end{eqnarray*}
Combining everything we obtain,
\[W\geq \frac{h^2(\Omega, g)}{(2-W)}\] and consequently
\[1+\sqrt{1-h^2(\Omega, g)}\geq W \geq 1-\sqrt{1-h^2(\Omega, g)}.\]
\end{proof}
The second observation that we need to prove the Cheeger
inequality is the following lemma, see \cite{Diaconis91}:
\begin{lemma}\label{Lemma2}
For every non-negative real number $\lambda$ and
$g\in\ell^2(\Omega,\mu)$ we have
\[\lambda \geq \frac{\sum_{e=(x,y)}\mu_{xy}(\tilde{g}_+(x)-\tilde{g}_+(y))^2}{\sum_x
\mu(x)\tilde{g}_+(x)^2} \] if $\Delta_\Omega g(x)\leq \lambda
g(x)$ for all $x\in P(g)$.
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}On the one hand we have
\begin{eqnarray*}(\Delta_\Omega g, g_+)_\mu &=& \sum_{x\in
\Omega}\mu(x)\Delta_\Omega g(x)g_+(x) \\&=& \sum_{x\in
P(g)}\mu(x)\Delta_\Omega g(x)g_+(x)\\&\leq& \lambda\sum_{x\in
P(g)}\mu(x) g_+(x)g_+(x) \\&=& \lambda\sum_{x\in V}\mu(x)
\tilde{g}_+(x)\tilde{g}_+(x),\end{eqnarray*} where we used our
assumption. On the other hand we have
\begin{eqnarray*}(\Delta_\Omega g, g_+)_\mu &=&
\sum_{e=(x,y)\in
E}\theta_{xy}(\tilde{g}(x)-\tilde{g}(y))(\tilde{g}_+(x)-\tilde{g}_+(y))
\\&\geq&\sum_{e=(x,y)\in E}\theta_{xy}(\tilde{g}_+(x)-\tilde{g}_+(y))^2,
\end{eqnarray*}where we used the Green's formula, see Lemma \ref{GreenLemma}.
\end{proof}
\begin{theo}[Cheeger inequality cf. \cite{DodziukKarp}]\label{CheegerInequality}
We have
\begin{equation}\label{eq7}1 - \sqrt{1 - h^2(\Omega)}\leq \lambda_1(\Omega)\leq h(\Omega).\end{equation}
\end{theo}
\begin{proof}
For completeness we give a proof here.
First we show that $\lambda_1(\Omega)\leq h(\Omega)$. We consider
the following function:
$$f(x) = \left\{\begin{array}{cc} 1&\text{if } x\in U\subset \Omega\\ 0 &
\text{else.}
\end{array}\right.$$
Using this function in the Rayleigh quotient (\ref{Rayleigh
Lambda1}) yields
\begin{eqnarray*}
\lambda_1(\Omega) &\leq& \frac{\frac{1}{2}
\sum_{x,y}\mu_{xy}(f(x)-f(y))^2}{\sum_x \mu(x) f^2(x)}\\&=&
\frac{\sum_{x\in U}\sum_{y\in U^c}\mu_{xy}}{\mathrm{vol}(U)} \\&=&
\frac{|\partial U|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)}.
\end{eqnarray*}
Since this holds for all $U\subset \Omega$ we have
$$\lambda_1(\Omega) \leq \inf_{\emptyset \neq U\subset \Omega}\frac{|\partial
U|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)} =h(\Omega).$$
The inequality $1 - \sqrt{1 - h^2(\Omega)}\leq \lambda_1(\Omega)$
follows from Lemma \ref{Lemma1}, Lemma \ref{Lemma2} and Remark
\ref{Remark} by taking $\lambda=\lambda_1(\Omega)$ and $g=u_1$ an
eigenfunction for $\lambda_1(\Omega)$.
\end{proof}
The next theorem is the main result of this section.
\begin{theo}[Dual Cheeger inequality]\label{Mtheo1}
We have
\begin{equation}\label{eq6}2\bar{h}(\Omega) + h(\Omega) \leq \lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)\leq 1 + \sqrt{1 - (1- \bar{h}(\Omega))^2}.\end{equation}
\end{theo}
\begin{proof}Let $V_1,V_2$ be two disjoint nonempty subsets of
$\Omega$. We consider the following function:
$$f(x) = \left\{\begin{array}{cc} 1&\text{if } x\in V_1\\
-1&\text{if } x\in V_2 \\
0 & \text{else.}
\end{array}\right.$$
Using this function in the Rayleigh quotient (\ref{Rayleigh
LambdaN}) yields
\begin{eqnarray*}
\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega) &\geq& \frac{\frac{1}{2}
\sum_{x,y}\mu_{xy}(\tilde{f}(x)-\tilde{f}(y))^2}{\sum_x \mu(x)
\tilde{f}^2(x)}\\&=& \frac{\sum_{x\in V_1}\sum_{y\in V_2}\mu_{xy}4
+ \sum_{x\in V_1\cup V_2}\sum_{y \in (V_1\cup
V_2)^c}\mu_{xy}}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1)+ \mathrm{vol}(V_2)}
\\&=& 2 \frac{2 |E(V_1,V_2)|}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1)+\mathrm{vol}(V_2)} + \frac{|\partial (V_1\cup V_2)|}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1\cup V_2)}
\\&\geq& 2 \frac{2 |E(V_1,V_2)|}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1)+\mathrm{vol}(V_2)} + \inf_{\substack{U\subset\Omega\\\sharp U\geq 2}} \frac{|\partial U|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)}\\
&=& 2 \frac{2 |E(V_1,V_2)|}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1)+\mathrm{vol}(V_2)} +
\inf_{U\subset\Omega} \frac{|\partial U|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)},
\end{eqnarray*} where we again used the observation that the
infimum is not achieved by a singleton. Since this holds for all
disjoint nonempty subsets $V_1, V_2\subset \Omega$ we have
$$2\bar{h}(\Omega) + h(\Omega) \leq \lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega).$$
Now we prove the remaining inequality
$\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega) \leq
1+\sqrt{1-(1-\overline{h}(\Omega))^2}$. When one studies the
largest eigenvalue of $\Delta_\Omega$ it is convenient to
introduce the operator $Q_\Omega=2I_\Omega -\Delta_\Omega =
I_\Omega + P_\Omega$ where $I_\Omega$ is the identity operator on
$\Omega$ and $P_\Omega$ the transition probability operator. If
$\lambda(\Omega)$ is an eigenvalue of $\Delta_\Omega$ and
corresponding eigenfunction $f$ then $f$ is also an eigenfunction
for $Q_\Omega$ and corresponding eigenvalue $\xi(\Omega) =
2-\lambda(\Omega)$. Thus, controlling the largest eigenvalue
$\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)$ of $\Delta_\Omega$ from above is
equivalent to controlling the smallest eigenvalue $\xi_1(\Omega)$
of $Q_\Omega$ from below. The smallest eigenvalue $\xi_1(\Omega)$
of $Q_\Omega$ is given by
\begin{eqnarray*}\xi_1(\Omega) &=& \inf_{\tilde{f}\neq 0} \frac{\frac{1}{2}\sum_{x,y\in V}\mu_{xy}(\tilde{f}(x) +
\tilde{f}(y))^2}{\sum_{x\in
V}\mu(x)\tilde{f}(x)^2}\\&=&\inf_{\tilde{f}\neq 0}
\frac{\sum_{e=(x,y)\in E}\theta_{xy}(\tilde{f}(x) +
\tilde{f}(y))^2}{\sum_{x\in V}\mu(x)\tilde{f}(x)^2}
\end{eqnarray*} where as above $\theta_{xy}=\mu_{xy}$ for all $x\neq y$ and
$\theta_{xx}=\frac{1}{2}\mu_{xx}$ for all $x\in V$. This simply
follows from the standard minmax characterization of the
eigenvalues
\[\xi_1(\Omega)=\inf_{f\neq 0}\frac{(Q_\Omega f,f)_\mu}{(f,f)_\mu},\] and the following formula for any
$f,g\in\ell^2(\Omega,\mu)$
\begin{eqnarray*}
(Q_\Omega f,g)_\mu&=& \sum_{x\in\Omega}\mu(x)Q_\Omega f(x)g(x)=
\sum_{x\in V}\sum_{y\in V}\mu_{xy}
(\tilde{f}(x)+\tilde{f}(y))\tilde{g}(x)\\&=& \sum_{y\in
V}\sum_{x\in V}\mu_{yx} (\tilde{f}(y)+\tilde{f}(x))\tilde{g}(y)
\end{eqnarray*} where we just exchanged $x$ and $y$. Adding the last two
lines and setting $\tilde{f}=\tilde{g}$ yields\[(Q_\Omega
f,f)_\mu=
\frac{1}{2}\sum_{x,y}\mu_{xy}(\tilde{f}(x)+\tilde{f}(y))^2.\]
In order to prove the lower bound for $\xi_1(\Omega)$ we will use
a technique developed in \cite{Desai94}. The idea is the
following: Construct a graph $\Gamma^\prime$ out of $\Gamma$ s.t.
the quantity $h^\prime(\Omega,g)$ defined in (\ref{hg}) for the
new graph $\Gamma^\prime$ controls $\xi_1(\Omega)$ from below. In
a second step, we show that $h^\prime(\Omega, g)$ in turn can be
controlled by the quantity $1-\overline{h}(\Omega)$ of the
original graph. This then yields the desired estimate.
Let $f$ be an eigenfunction for the eigenvalue $\xi_1(\Omega)$ of
$Q_{\Omega}$ and define as above $P(f)= \{x\in \Omega : f(x)>0\}$
and $N(f)= \{x\in \Omega : f(x) <0\}$. Then the new graph
$\Gamma^\prime =(V^\prime, E^\prime)$ is constructed from
$\Gamma=(V,E)$ in the following way. Duplicate all vertices in
$P(f)\cup N(f)$ and denote the copies by a prime, e.g. if $x\in
P(f)$ then the copy of $x$ is denoted by $x^\prime$. The copies of
$P(f)$ and $N(f)$ are denoted by $P^\prime(f)$ and $N^\prime(f)$
respectively. The vertex set $V^\prime $ of $\Gamma^\prime$ is
given by $V^\prime= V\cup P^\prime(f)\cup N^\prime(f)$. Every edge
$(x,y)\in E(P(f),P(f))$ in $\Gamma$ is replaced by two edges
$(x,y^\prime)$ and $(y,x^\prime)$ in $\Gamma^\prime$ s.t.
$\mu_{xy} = \mu^\prime_{xy^\prime}=\mu^\prime_{yx^\prime}$.
Similarly, if the edge is a loop, then $e=(x,x)$ is replaced by
one edge $(x,x^\prime)$ s.t. $\mu_{xx}=\mu_{xx^\prime}$. The same
is done with edges in $E(N(f),N(f))$. All other edges remain
unchanged, i.e. if $(k,l)\in E\setminus (E(P(f),P(f))\cup
E(N(f),N(f)))$ then $(k,l)\in E^\prime$ and $\mu_{kl} =
\mu^\prime_{kl}$. It is important to note that this construction
does not change the degrees of the vertices in
$V=V^\prime\setminus (P^\prime(f)\cup N^\prime(f))$.
Consider the function $\tilde{g}:V^\prime \rightarrow \R$,
\[\tilde{g}(x)=\left\{\begin{array}{ccc} |f(x)| & \mbox{ if}& x \in P(f)\cup N(f) \\0 &&
else. \end{array}\right.\] It can easily be checked that by
construction of $\Gamma^\prime$ we have
\begin{eqnarray*}\xi_1(\Omega) &=& \frac{\sum_{e=(x,y)\in E}\theta_{xy}(\tilde{f}(x) +
\tilde{f}(y))^2}{\sum_{x\in V}\mu(x)\tilde{f}(x)^2}\\&\geq&
\frac{\sum_{e^\prime=(x,y)\in
E^\prime}\mu^\prime_{xy}(\tilde{g}(x) -
\tilde{g}(y))^2}{\sum_{x\in
V^\prime}\mu^\prime(x)\tilde{g}(x)^2}\\&\geq& 1-
\sqrt{1-(h^\prime(\Omega, g))^2}
\end{eqnarray*} where we used Lemma \ref{Lemma1} to obtain the last
inequality. For any non-empty subset $W\subseteq P(g) = P(f)\cup
N(f)$ we define $P(W)=W\cap P(f)$ and $N(W)=W\cap N(f)$. Let
$\emptyset\neq U\subseteq P(g)$ the subset that realizes the
infimum, i.e.
\begin{eqnarray*}h^\prime(\Omega, g) &=& \inf_{\emptyset\neq W\subseteq P(g)}
\frac{|E^\prime(W,W^c)|}{\mathrm{vol}(W)}=
\frac{|E^\prime(U,U^c)|}{\mathrm{vol}(U)}\\&=&
\frac{|E(P(U),P(U))|+ |E(N(U),N(U))| + |\partial(P(U)\cup N(U))|}
{\mathrm{vol}(P(U))+{\mathrm{vol}(N(U))}}\\&=& 1- \frac{2
|E(P(U),N(U))|}{\mathrm{vol}(P(U))+{\mathrm{vol}(N(U))}}\\&\geq&
1- \sup_{V_1,V_2\subset\Omega}\frac{2
|E(V_1,V_2)|}{\mathrm{vol}(V_1)+{\mathrm{vol}(V_2)}}
\\&=&1-\overline{h}(\Omega),
\end{eqnarray*}where we used that $P(U),N(U)\subset \Omega$.
Thus we have
\[2-\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)=\xi_1(\Omega) \geq 1 - \sqrt{1-(1-\overline{h}(\Omega))^2}\] and so
\[\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)\leq 1+\sqrt{1-(1-\overline{h}(\Omega))^2}.\]
\end{proof}
\begin{rem}
\begin{itemize}\item[$(i)$]
Note that if $\Omega$ is bipartite, then the upper bound for
$\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)$ follows directly from Lemma
\ref{BasicProperties} $(iv)$, the Cheeger inequality, and Theorem
\ref{h and hbar}. \item[$(ii)$] For finite graphs it is also
possible to obtain a Cheeger and a dual Cheeger estimate for the
smallest nonzero and the largest eigenvalue, respectively (see for
instance \cite{Chung97} and \cite{Bauer12}). For finite graphs the
Cheeger together with the dual Cheeger estimate are very powerful
since many graph properties such as the diameter, the independence
number or the convergence of a random walk to its stationary
distribution are controlled by the maximal difference from the
smallest nonzero and the largest eigenvalue from $1$, see
\cite{Chung97, Lubotzky94}.
\end{itemize}
\end{rem}
\section{Eigenvalue comparison theorems}\label{Section5}
In this section we prove some eigenvalue comparison theorems for
the largest eigenvalue of the Dirichlet Laplace operator that do
not have analogues in Riemannian geometry. Similar eigenvalue
comparison theorems for the smallest eigenvalue were obtained by
Urakawa \cite{Urakawa99}. Urakawa's results are discrete versions
of Cheng's eigenvalue comparison theorem for Riemannian manifolds
\cite{Cheng75a, Cheng75b}. In the literature (see e.g.
\cite{Urakawa99,Friedman93}), the mostly used comparison models
for graphs are homogeneous trees, since regular trees are
considered to be discrete analogues of simply connected space
forms. Here we propose a novel comparison model for graphs, the
weighted half-line $R_l\ (l\in \mathds{R},\ l\geq 2)$ which is
defined by $R_l:=(V,E),$ $V=\mathds{N}\cup\{0\}, E=\{(i,i+1),i\geq
0, i\in V\}$ and the edge weights are defined as
$\mu_{(i,i+1)}=(l-1)^i,$ see Figure \ref{Fig.5}. More precisely,
we want to compare the largest Dirichlet eigenvalue of a ball in
any graph with the largest Dirichlet eigenvalue of a ball with the
same radius in $R_l$ (in contrast to the existing literature,
where homogenous trees $T_d$ were used instead). The advantage of
the weighted half-line $R_l$ is that we get better estimates in
the comparison theorems since we can overcome the restriction that
$d$ must be an integer if we use the homogenous tree $T_d$ as a
comparison model. In particular, the results using $R_l$ or $T_d$
as a comparison model coincide if $l=d$ are integers.
\begin{figure}\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width =
10cm]{WeightedHalfLine.pdf}\caption{\label{Fig.5}The weighted half-line $R_l$}
\end{center}
\end{figure}
The next lemma shows that the eigenvalues and eigenfunctions of
the Dirichlet operator of $R_l$ behave like those on infinite
$d$-homogenous trees $T_d$, since a similar result was obtained
for $T_d$ by Friedmann \cite{Friedman93} and Urakawa
\cite{Urakawa99}.
\begin{lemma}\label{Dirichlet Eigenvalues of Rl} Let
$V_l(r)=\{x\in R_l: d(x,0)\leq r\}$ and let $l\geq 2$. The first
eigenvalue of the Dirichlet Laplace operator on $V_l(r)$ in $R_l$
is
$$\lambda_1(V_l(r))=1-\frac{2\sqrt{l-1}}{l}\cos\theta_{l,r},$$ where
$\theta_{l,r}$ is the smallest positive solution $\theta$ of
$g_{r}(\theta)=\frac{l}{2(l-1)},$ where
$$g_r(\theta)=\frac{\sin((r+1)\theta)\cos\theta}{\sin(r\theta)}.$$ We have $\theta_{2,r}=\frac{\pi}{2(r+1)}$ and for $l>2$ we have $$\max\{\frac{\pi}{r+\eta},\frac{\pi}{2(r+1)}\}\leq\theta_{l,r}\leq\frac{\pi}{r+1},$$ where $\eta=\eta(l)=\frac{2(l-1)}{l-2}.$ The first eigenfunction $f_1$ is
$$f_1(x)=(l-1)^{-\frac{r(x)}{2}}\sin(r+1-r(x))\theta_{l,r}$$ which is positive and decreasing (as a function of one variable) on $V_l(r)$ where $r(x)=d(x,0).$
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof} We omit the proof of this lemma since it is
straightforward and similar to the proof in the case of
$d$-regular trees $T_d$, see \cite{Urakawa99} (Lemma $3.1$) and
\cite{Friedman93} (Proposition 3.2).
\end{proof}
The following corollary is a straightforward consequence of the
previous lemma by the bipartiteness of $R_l,$ see Theorem
\ref{Lembi}.
\begin{lemma}\label{Estimates Eigenvalues Rl}
For $l>2,$
\begin{eqnarray}\label{estim3}
1-\frac{2\sqrt{l-1}}{l}\cos\frac{\pi}{r+\eta}&\leq& \lambda_1(V_l(r))\ \ \ \leq 1-\frac{2\sqrt{l-1}}{l}\cos\frac{\pi}{r+1},\\
1+\frac{2\sqrt{l-1}}{l}\cos\frac{\pi}{r+1}&\leq&
\lambda_{\mathrm{max}}(V_l(r))\leq
1+\frac{2\sqrt{l-1}}{l}\cos\frac{\pi}{r+\eta} ,
\end{eqnarray} where $\eta=\frac{2(l-1)}{l-2}$, and for $l=2$
$$\lambda_1(V_l(r))= 1 - \cos\frac{\pi}{2(r +1)} \text{ and }
\lambda_{\mathrm{max}}(V_l(r))= 1 + \cos\frac{\pi}{2(r +1)}.$$
\end{lemma}
Now we study the eigenfunction $f_\mathrm{max}$ for the largest
Dirichlet eigenvalue of a ball in $R_l$.
\begin{lemma}\label{Eigenfunction tree} The eigenfunction
$f_\mathrm{max}$ for the largest Dirichlet eigenvalue
$\lambda_\mathrm{max}(V_l(r))$ satisfies:
\begin{enumerate}
\item[$(i)$] $|f_\mathrm{max}(s)|$ is decreasing in $s$, i.e.
$|f_\mathrm{max}(s)|> |f_\mathrm{max}(s+1)|$ $\forall$ $0\leq
s=r(x)\leq r.$ \item[$(ii)$]
$f_\mathrm{max}(s)f_\mathrm{max}(s+1)<0$ for all $0\leq s< r-1.$
\end{enumerate}
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof} Since the weighted half line $R_l$ is
bipartite, we know from the proof of Lemma \ref{symmetric
eigenvalues} that the eigenfunction for the largest eigenvalue
$f_\mathrm{max}$ is given by
\begin{equation}\label{3} f_\mathrm{max}(x) = \left\{\begin{array}{cc}f_1(x) & \text{ if } x\in U\\
-f_1(x) & \text{ if } x\in \overline{U}
\end{array}\right.
\end{equation} where $U\cup\overline{U}=V_l(r)$ is a bipartition of $V_l(r)$
and $f_1$ is the first eigenfunction. Since by Lemma
\ref{Dirichlet Eigenvalues of Rl} the first eigenfunction $f_1$ is
positive and decreasing both statements follow immediately.
\end{proof}
In order to prove the eigenvalue comparison theorem we also need
the following Barta-type theorem for the largest Dirichlet
eigenvalue.
\begin{lemma}[Barta-type theorem for $\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)$]\label{Barta}
Let $f\in\ell^2(\Omega,\mu)$ be any function s.t. $f(x)\neq 0$ for
all $x\in \Omega$. Then we have $$\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)\geq
\inf_{x\in \Omega}\frac{\Delta_\Omega f(x)}{f(x)}.$$
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}For all $f\in \ell^2(\Omega,\mu)$ with $f(x)\neq 0$ for all $x\in \Omega$ we
have
\begin{eqnarray*}
(\Delta_\Omega f, f)_\mu &=& \sum_{x\in \Omega} \mu(x)
\Delta_\Omega f(x) f(x)\\ &=& \sum_{x\in \Omega} \mu(x)
\frac{\Delta_\Omega f(x)}{f(x)} f^2(x)\\&\geq& \sum_{x\in \Omega}
\mu(x) \inf_{x\in \Omega}\frac{\Delta_\Omega f(x)}{f(x)}
f^2(x)\\&=& \inf_{x\in \Omega}\frac{\Delta_\Omega f(x)}{f(x)}
(f,f)_\mu.
\end{eqnarray*}Now
the lemma follows since for all such functions $f$
$$\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega) = \sup_{g\in \ell^2(\Omega,\mu)}
\frac{(\Delta_\Omega g,g)_\mu}{(g,g)_\mu}\geq \frac{(\Delta_\Omega
f,f)_\mu}{(f,f)_\mu}\geq \inf_{x\in \Omega}\frac{\Delta_\Omega
f(x)}{f(x)}.$$
\end{proof}
We introduce the following notation:
\begin{defi}For a graph $\Gamma=(V,E)$ we define
\begin{eqnarray*}V_+(x) &=& \{y\in V: y\sim x, d(x_0,y) = d(x_0,x) +1\}
\\V_-(x) &=& \{y\in V: y\sim x, d(x_0,y) = d(x_0,x) -1\}\\
V_0(x) &=& \{y\in V: y\sim x, d(x_0,y) = d(x_0,x)\}
\end{eqnarray*} for some
fixed $x_0\in V$. Moreover, we define \begin{eqnarray*} \mu_+(x)
:= \sum_{y\in V_+(x)}\mu_{xy},\quad \mu_-(x) := \sum_{y\in
V_-(x)}\mu_{xy}\quad \text{ and }\ \mu_0(x) := \sum_{y\in
V_0(x)}\mu_{xy}.
\end{eqnarray*}
\end{defi}
Clearly, $\mu(x) = \mu_+(x) + \mu_-(x)+ \mu_0(x)$.\\
For the sequel, let us observe that for the weighted half-line
$R_l$ and reference point $x_0 =0$, at every vertex, $\frac{\mu(x)}{\mu_-(x)}=l$ and $\mu_0(x)=0$.\\
\begin{theo}[Eigenvalue comparison theorem I]\label{ecpt1} Let
$B(x_0,r)$ be a ball in $\Gamma$ centered at $x_0$ with radius $r$
and $2 \leq l:= \sup_{x\in B(x_0,r)}\frac{\mu(x)}{\mu_-(x)}<
\infty$. Then the largest Dirichlet eigenvalue
$\lambda_\mathrm{max}(B(x_0,r))$ satisfies
$$\lambda_\mathrm{max}(B(x_0,r))\geq \lambda_\mathrm{max}(V_l(r))- 2\kappa(x_0,r),$$
where $V_l(r)$ is a ball of radius $r$ centered at $0$ in the
weighted half-line $R_l$ and $\kappa(x_0,r):=\sup_{x\in
B(x_0,r)}\frac{\mu_0(x)}{\mu(x)}$.
\end{theo}
Note that if $x_0$ is not contained in a circuit of odd length
$\leq 2r+1$ then $\kappa(x_0,r)=0$. In particular, if the ball
$B(x_0,r)$, considered as an induced subgraph in $\Gamma$, is
bipartite, then $\kappa(x_0,r)=0$. In particular we have the
following corollary:
\begin{coro}Let $B(x_0,r)$ be a ball on $\Gamma$ that does not contain any
cycle of odd length, then under the same assumptions as in the
last theorem we have
$$\lambda_\mathrm{max}(B(x_0,r))\geq \lambda_\mathrm{max}(V_l(r)).$$
\end{coro}
\begin{rem}
The choice of $l$ in the last theorem yields the best possible
results. However, all we need is that $l\geq
\frac{\mu(x)}{\mu_-(x)}$ for all $x\in B(x_0,r)$. Thus it is
sufficient to choose $l\geq
\frac{\sup_x\mu(x)}{\inf_{x,y}\mu_{xy}}$ in Theorem \ref{ecpt1}.
This also shows why we restrict ourselves to $R_l$ for $l\geq2$.
If $l<2$ and $l\geq \frac{\sup_{x\in V}\mu(x)}{\inf_{x,y\in
V}\mu_{xy}}$ then this immediately implies that the graph is
finite - in fact the graph consists of two vertices connected by
one edge, provided the graph is connected.
\end{rem}
Before we prove this theorem, we show that the quantity
$\kappa(x_0,r)$ is related to a local clustering coefficient
through the following quantity
\begin{equation}\label{definition local clustering} C(x_0,
r):= \sup_{x\in B(x_0,r)}\frac{\sum_{y\in
\mathcal{C}(x,r)}\mu_{xy}}{\mu(x)}\end{equation} where
$\mathcal{C}(x,r):= \{y\in V: y\sim x$ $x$ and $y$ are both
contained in a circuit of odd length $\leq 2r+1\}$ and a circuit
is a cycle without repeated vertices. Recall that a graph is
bipartite if and only if there are no cycles of odd length in the
graph. Hence $C(x_0,r)$ expresses how different a graph is from a
bipartite graph. Moreover, $C(x_0,r)$ is related to a local
clustering coefficient since $C(x_0,r)=0$ implies that all $x\in
B(x_0,r)$ are not contained in any triangle. Estimates for the
largest eigenvalue of the Laplace operator for finite graphs in
terms of a local clustering coefficient were obtained in
\cite{Bauer12}.
\begin{lemma}\label{kappa and local clustering} We have for all $x_0\in V$ and $r\geq 0,$ \begin{equation}\label{clustering}\kappa(x_0,r)\leq C
(x_0,r)\end{equation}
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}It suffices to show that if $z\in V_0(x)$ for
some fixed $x_0$, then $z\in \mathcal{C}(x,r)$, i.e.
$V_0(x)\subset \mathcal{C}(x,r)$. We assume that for a fixed
vertex $x_0\in V$ we have $d(x_0,x)= d(x_0,z)= N\leq r$ and $z\sim
x$. Let $P_x$ and $P_z$ denote a shortest path from $x_0$ to $x$
and $z$, respectively. We label the vertices in the path $P_x$ by
$x_0, x_1, \ldots, x_N = x$ and the vertices in $P_z$ by $x_0=z_0,
z_1, \ldots, z_N = z$. Let $0\leq k\leq N-1$ be such that $x_l\neq
z_l$ for all $l>k$, i.e. $x_k= z_k$ is the last branching point of
the two paths $P_x$ and $P_z$. We claim that $x_k,x_{k+1}, \ldots,
x_N=x,z=z_N, z_{N-1}, \ldots, z_k = x_k$ is a circuit of odd
length. Clearly, this is a cycle of length $2(N-k)+1$, i.e. a
cycle of odd length. Moreover, by construction the vertices in
this cycle are all different from each other. Thus $z$ and $x$ are
contained in a circuit of odd length $\leq 2(N-k)+1\leq 2r+1$ and
hence $z\in \mathcal{C}(x,r)$. This completes the proof.
\end{proof}
Using techniques developed by Urakawa \cite{Urakawa99} we now give
a proof of Theorem \ref{ecpt1}.
\begin{proof}[Proof of Theorem \ref{ecpt1}] Let $B(x_0,r)$ be a ball centered
at $x_0$ in $\Gamma$ and $V_l(r)$ be a ball in $R_l$ centered at
$0$ with the same radius $r$. Using the eigenfunction
$f_\mathrm{max}$ on $V_l(r)$ we define a function (denoted by the
same letter) on the ball $B(x_0,r)$ in $\Gamma$ by
$$f_\mathrm{max}(x) = f_\mathrm{max} (r(x)) \text{ \qquad for all $x\in B(x_0,r)$},$$ where $r(x)=d(x,x_0).$
Now let $\Delta$ and $\Delta^l$ be the Laplace operators on
$B(x_0,r)$ and $V_l(r)$ respectively. For all $x\in B(x_0,r)$ and
$z\in V_l(r)$ with $0<s = r(x) = r_l(z) \leq r$ where
$r_l(z)=d(z,0)=|z|$ we obtain
\begin{eqnarray*}\Delta f_\mathrm{max}(x)&=& f_\mathrm{max}(x) -
\frac{\mu_0(x)f_\mathrm{max}(x) + \mu_+(x) f_\mathrm{max}(x+1)+
\mu_-(x)f_\mathrm{max}(x-1)}{\mu(x)}
\\&=& \frac{\mu_-(x)}{\mu(x)}(f_\mathrm{max}(x) -
f_\mathrm{max}(x-1))+ \frac{\mu_+(x)}{\mu(x)}(f_\mathrm{max}(x) -
f_\mathrm{max}(x+1))
\end{eqnarray*}
and
\begin{eqnarray*}
\Delta^l f_\mathrm{max}(z) = \frac{1}{l}(f_\mathrm{max}(x) -
f_\mathrm{max}(x-1)) + \frac{l-1}{l}(f_\mathrm{max}(x) -
f_\mathrm{max}(x+1)).
\end{eqnarray*}
Putting these two equations together we obtain:
\begin{eqnarray}\label{evc1}\frac{\Delta^l f_\mathrm{max}(z)}{f_\mathrm{max}(z)}- \frac{\Delta
f_\mathrm{max}(x)}{f_\mathrm{max}(x)} &=& \left(\frac{1}{l} -
\frac{\mu_-(x)}{\mu(x)}\right)\frac{f_\mathrm{max}(s) - f_\mathrm{max}(s-1)}{f_\mathrm{max}(s)}\nonumber\\
&+& \left(\frac{l-1}{l} -
\frac{\mu_+(x)}{\mu(x)}\right)\frac{f_\mathrm{max}(s) -
f_\mathrm{max}(s+1)}{f_\mathrm{max}(s)}.
\end{eqnarray}
Moreover, in the case $r(x) = r_l(z)=0$ we obtain
\begin{equation}\label{evc2}\frac{\Delta^lf_\mathrm{max}(0)}{f_\mathrm{max}(0)} - \frac{\Delta
f_\mathrm{max}(x_0)}{f_\mathrm{max}(x_0)} = 0.\end{equation} It is
important to note that by Lemma \ref{Eigenfunction tree}
$$1<\frac{f_\mathrm{max}(s) - f_\mathrm{max}(s+1)}{f_\mathrm{max}(s)}\leq \frac{f_\mathrm{max}(s) -
f_\mathrm{max}(s-1)}{f_\mathrm{max}(s)} \text{ for all }0\leq
s\leq r$$ and by our assumption it holds that $\left(\frac{1}{l} -
\frac{\mu_-(x)}{\mu(x)}\right)\leq 0$ for all $x\in B(x_0,r)$.
Hence we obtain
\begin{eqnarray*}\frac{\Delta^l f_\mathrm{max}(z)}{f_\mathrm{max}(z)}- \frac{\Delta f_\mathrm{max}(x)}{f_\mathrm{max}(x)}
&\leq& \left(\frac{1}{l} - \frac{\mu_-(x)}{\mu(x)} + \frac{l-1}{l}
- \frac{\mu_+(x)}{\mu(x)}\right)\frac{f_\mathrm{max}(s) -
f_\mathrm{max}(s+1)}{f_\mathrm{max}(s)}
\\&=& \frac{\mu_0(x)}{\mu(x)}\left(1 -
\frac{f_\mathrm{max}(s+1)}{f_\mathrm{max}(s)}\right)\\&\leq& 2
\frac{\mu_0(x)}{\mu(x)},
\end{eqnarray*}where used again Lemma \ref{Eigenfunction tree}.
Using the Barta-type estimate in Lemma \ref{Barta} it follows
\begin{eqnarray*} \lambda_\mathrm{max}(B(x_0,r))&\geq& \inf_{x\in B(x_0,r)}\frac{\Delta
f_\mathrm{max}(x)}{f_\mathrm{max}(x)}\\&\geq& \inf_{z\in
V_l(r)}\frac{\Delta^l f_\mathrm{max}(z)}{f_\mathrm{max}(z)} -
2\sup_{x\in B(x_0,r)}\frac{\mu_0(x)}{\mu(x)}\\&=&
\lambda_\mathrm{max}(V_l(r)) - 2\kappa(x_0,r).
\end{eqnarray*}
\end{proof}
The largest Dirichlet eigenvalue of a ball of radius $r$ in the
weighted half-line $R_l$ is precisely known, see Lemma
\ref{Dirichlet Eigenvalues of Rl}. In particular, by combining
Theorem \ref{ecpt1} with Lemma \ref{Estimates Eigenvalues Rl} we
obtain the following corollary:
\begin{coro} \label{Estimates Balls 2}Let $B(x_0,r)$ be a
ball in $\Gamma$ and $2\leq l= \sup_{x\in
B(x_0,r)}\frac{\mu(x)}{\mu_-(x)}<\infty.$ Then the largest
Dirichlet eigenvalue $\lambda_\mathrm{max}(B(x_0,r))$ satisfies
for $l>2$
\begin{eqnarray*}\lambda_\mathrm{max}(B(x_0,r))&\geq& 1 +
\frac{2\sqrt{l-1}}{l}\cos\left(\frac{\pi}{r+1}\right)-
2\kappa(x_0,r),\end{eqnarray*} and for $l=2$
\begin{eqnarray*}\lambda_\mathrm{max}(B(x_0,r))&\geq& 1 +
\cos\left(\frac{\pi}{2(r+1)}\right)-
2\kappa(x_0,r).\end{eqnarray*}
\end{coro}
By a similar argument as in Theorem \ref{ecpt1} we obtain a lower
bound estimate of $\lambda_1$ which implies the upper bound
estimate for $\lambda_{\mathrm{max}}$. The following theorem
generalizes $(ii)$ of Theorem $3.3$ in \cite{Urakawa99}.
\begin{theo}[Eigenvalue comparison theorem II]\label{Theob1}
Let $B(x_0,r)$ be a ball in $\Gamma$. Suppose $2\leq l:=\inf_{x\in
B(x_0,r)}\frac{\mu(x)}{\mu_-(x)}<\infty,$ then
\begin{equation}\label{estim0}
\lambda_1(B(x_0,r))\geq\lambda_1(V_l(r))-\kappa(x_0,r),
\end{equation}
\begin{equation}
\lambda_{\mathrm{max}}(B(x_0,r))\leq\lambda_{\mathrm{max}}(V_l(r))+\kappa(x_0,r),
\end{equation} where $\kappa(x_0,r):=\sup_{x\in
B(x_0,r)}\frac{\mu_0(x)}{\mu(x)}.$
\end{theo}
\begin{proof}
By $(iv)$ of Lemma \ref{BasicProperties}, the bipartiteness of the
weighted half-line $R_l$ and Theorem \ref{Lembi}, it suffices to
prove \eqref{estim0}. Let $f_1$ be the first eigenfunction of the
Dirichlet Laplace operator on $V_l(r)$ in $R_l.$ By Lemma
\ref{Dirichlet Eigenvalues of Rl}, $f_1$ is a positive, decreasing
function on $V_l(r).$ We define a function on $B(x_0,r)$ in
$\Gamma$ as $f_1(x)=f_1(r(x))$ where $r(x)=d(x,x_0).$ The same
calculation as \eqref{evc1} and \eqref{evc2} yields for any $x\in
B(x_0,r)$ and $z\in V_l(r)$ with $0<s = r(x) = r_l(z) \leq r$
where $r_l(z)=d(z,0)$
\begin{eqnarray*}\frac{\Delta^l f_1(z)}{f_{1}(z)}- \frac{\Delta
f_1(x)}{f_{1}(x)} &=& \left(\frac{1}{l} -
\frac{\mu_-(x)}{\mu(x)}\right)\frac{f_1(s) - f_1(s-1)}{f_1(s)}\nonumber\\
&+& \left(\frac{l-1}{l} -
\frac{\mu_+(x)}{\mu(x)}\right)\frac{f_1(s) - f_1(s+1)}{f_1(s)},
\end{eqnarray*} and
\begin{equation*}\frac{\Delta^lf_1(0)}{f_1(0)} - \frac{\Delta
f_1(x_0)}{f_1(x_0)} = 0.\end{equation*} By our assumption it holds
that $\left(\frac{1}{l} - \frac{\mu_-(x)}{\mu(x)}\right)\geq 0$
for all $x\in B(x_0,r)$. Note that $f_1(s)$ is a decreasing
function of $s$ which implies that $\frac{f_1(s) -
f_1(s-1)}{f_1(s)}\leq 0$ Hence
\begin{eqnarray*}\frac{\Delta^l f_1(z)}{f_1(z)}- \frac{\Delta f_1(x)}{f_1(x)}
&\leq& \left(\frac{l-1}{l} -
\frac{\mu_+(x)}{\mu(x)}\right)\frac{f_1(s) - f_1(s+1)}{f_1(s)}
\\&=& \left(\frac{\mu_0(x)}{\mu(x)}+\frac{\mu_{-}(x)}{\mu(x)}-\frac{1}{l}\right)\left(1 -
\frac{f_1(s+1)}{f_1(s)}\right)\\&\leq& \frac{\mu_0(x)}{\mu(x)}\leq
\kappa(x_0,r).
\end{eqnarray*}
Then by the Barta's theorem for the first eigenvalue, see Theorem
$2.1$ in \cite{Urakawa99},
\begin{eqnarray*}\lambda_1(B(x_0,r))&\geq& \inf_{x\in B(x_0,r)}\frac{\Delta f_1}{f_1}\geq \inf_{z\in V_l(r)}\frac{\Delta^l f_1}{f_1}-\kappa(x_0,r)\\
&=&\lambda_1(V_l(r))-\kappa(x_0,r).
\end{eqnarray*}
\end{proof}
By Lemma \ref{Estimates Eigenvalues Rl} we obtain the following
corollary which is the counterpart to Corollary \ref{Estimates
Balls 2} (we omit the easier case of $l=2$).
\begin{coro}\label{Lowercomp1}
Let $B(x_0,r)$ be a ball in $\Gamma$ and $2< l=\inf_{x\in
B(x_0,r)}\frac{\mu(x)}{\mu_-(x)}<\infty.$ Then
\begin{eqnarray}\label{estim1}
\lambda_1(B(x_0,r))&\geq&
1-\frac{2\sqrt{l-1}}{l}\cos\frac{\pi}{r+\eta}-\kappa(x_0,r),\nonumber
\end{eqnarray}
\begin{eqnarray*}
\lambda_{\mathrm{max}}(B(x_0,r))&\leq&
1+\frac{2\sqrt{l-1}}{l}\cos\frac{\pi}{r+\eta}+\kappa(x_0,r)
\end{eqnarray*} where as before $\eta=\frac{2(l-1)}{l-2},$ and $\kappa(x_0,r)=\sup_{x\in
B(x_0,r)}\frac{\mu_0(x)}{\mu(x)}$.
\end{coro}
\section{Eigenvalue estimates for finite graphs}\label{Section6}
In this section, we show how the eigenvalue comparison theorem
obtained in the last section can be used to estimate the largest
eigenvalues of finite graphs.
\begin{defi}We say two balls $B_1$ and $B_2$ are edge disjoint if
$|E(B_1,B_2)|=0$.
\end{defi}
\begin{lemma}\label{Estimate Balls}
Let $G=(V,E)$ be a finite graph with $\sharp V=N$ and let $B_1,
\ldots B_m$ be $m\geq 1$ edge disjoint balls in $\Gamma$. Then
$$\theta_{N-m} \geq \min_{i = 1,\ldots m}\lambda_\mathrm{max}(B_i),$$ where
$\theta_i$, $i=0,\ldots,N-1$ are the eigenvalues of the Laplace
operator of the finite graph and $\lambda_i$ are the eigenvalues
of the Laplace operator with Dirichlet boundary conditions.
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}We use the same technique as Quenell \cite{Quenell96} who
proved a similar result for the smallest eigenvalue of a finite
graph.By the variational characterization of the eigenvalues we
have
$$\theta_{N-1} = \sup_{g\neq 0}\frac{(\Delta g,g)_G}{(g,g)_G},$$
and
\begin{equation}\label{variational principle}\theta_{N-m} = \sup_{g\perp g_{N-1}, \ldots
g_{N-m+1}}\frac{(\Delta g,g)_G}{(g,g)_G},\end{equation} where
$(f,g)_G= \sum_{x\in V}\mu(x) f(x)g(x)$ is the scalar product on
the finite graph $G$ and $g_i$ is an eigenfunction for the
eigenvalue $\theta_i$.
From now
on we use the following notation: $\Delta_i = \Delta_{B_i}$
denotes the Dirichlet Laplace operator on the ball $B_i$.
Let $f_i: B_i\to \mathbb{R} $ be the eigenfunction corresponding
to the largest eigenvalue $\lambda_\mathrm{max}(B_i)$ of the
Dirichlet Laplace operator $\Delta_i$. We extend this to a
function $\tilde{f}_i: V \to \mathbb{R}$ on the whole of $V$ by
setting
$$\tilde{f}_i(x) = \left\{\begin{array}{cc}f_i(x) & \text{ if } x\in B_i\\
0 & \text{ if } x\notin B_i.
\end{array}\right.$$
Because the balls $B_1,\ldots B_m$ are disjoint the functions
$\tilde{f}_i,\tilde{f}_j$ satisfy $\mathrm{supp}\tilde{f}_i\cap
\mathrm{supp}\tilde{f}_j = \emptyset$ and hence $(\tilde{f}_i,
\tilde{f}_j)_G=0$ for all $i\neq j$. From this it follows that the
functions $\tilde{f}_1,\ldots \tilde{f}_{m}$ span a
$m$-dimensional subspace in $\ell^2(G,\mu)$. Hence there exists
coefficients $a_i$ such that the function
$$\tilde{f} := \sum_{i=1}^ma_i\tilde{f}_i$$ is orthonogal to the $m-1$
dimensional subspace spanned by the $g_i$, i.e. $(\tilde{f},
g_i)=0$ for all $i = N-1, \ldots, N-m+1$. From the variational
principle (\ref{variational principle}) we immediately obtain
\begin{equation}\label{4} \theta_{N-m}\geq \frac{(\Delta\tilde{f},
\tilde{f})_G}{(\tilde{f},\tilde{f})_G}.\end{equation}
We wish to show that
\begin{equation} \label{5}\frac{(\Delta\tilde{f}_i,
\tilde{f}_i)_G}{(\tilde{f}_i,\tilde{f}_i)_G}=\frac{(\Delta_i f_i,
f_i)_{B_i}}{(f_i,f_i)_{B_i}}.\end{equation} This can be seen from
the following straightforward calculation:
\begin{eqnarray*}
(\Delta\tilde{f}_i, \tilde{f}_i)_G &=& \sum_{x\in
V}\mu(x)\Delta\tilde{f}_i(x)\tilde{f}_i(x)\\&=& \sum_{x\in
V}\mu(x)[(\tilde{f}_i(x) - \frac{1}{\mu(x)}\sum_{y\in
V}\mu_{xy}\tilde{f}_i(y))\tilde{f}_i(x)]
\\&=&\sum_{x\in B_i}\mu(x)[(f_i(x) -
\frac{1}{\mu(x)}\sum_{y\in B_i}\mu_{xy}f_i(y))f_i(x)]\\&=&
\sum_{x\in B_i}\mu(x)\Delta_if_i(x)f_i(x)\\&=& (\Delta_if_i,
f_i)_{B_i}.
\end{eqnarray*} Together with $(\tilde{f}_i,\tilde{f}_i)_G =
\sum_{x\in V} \mu(x)\tilde{f}_i(x)^2 = \sum_{x\in B_i}
\mu(x)f_i(x)^2 = (f_i,f_i)_{B_i}$ we conclude
$$\frac{(\Delta\tilde{f}_i,
\tilde{f}_i)_G}{(\tilde{f}_i,\tilde{f}_i)_G}=\frac{(\Delta_i f_i,
f_i)_{B_i}}{(f_i,f_i)_{B_i}} = \lambda_\mathrm{max}(B_i).$$
Next we show that
\begin{equation}\label{6}(\Delta\tilde{f}_i,
\tilde{f}_j)_G = \sum_{x\in V}\mu(x)[\tilde{f}_i(x) -
\frac{1}{\mu(x)}\sum_{y\in V}
\mu_{xy}\tilde{f}_i(y)]\tilde{f}_j(x)= 0\text{ if $i\neq
j$.}\end{equation} We have a look at each term
\begin{eqnarray} \label{2}[\tilde{f}_i(x) -
\frac{1}{\mu(x)}\sum_{y\in V}
\mu_{xy}\tilde{f}_i(y)]\tilde{f}_j(x)
\end{eqnarray}in the sum
separately: We distinguish the following two cases: $(i)$ If
$x\notin B_j$ equation (\ref{2}) is obviously equal to zero.
$(ii)$ If $x\in B_j$ it follows from the edge disjointness of the
balls that $x \notin B_i$ and that all neighbors $y \sim x$ are
not contained in $B_i$. Hence also in the latter case equation
(\ref{2}) is equal to zero. Hence if $i\neq j$, then
$(\Delta\tilde{f}_i, \tilde{f}_j)_G=0$.
Using (\ref{5}) and (\ref{6}) we compute
\begin{eqnarray*}
(\Delta\tilde{f},\tilde{f})_G &=&
(\Delta\sum_{i=1}^ma_i\tilde{f}_i,
\sum_{j=1}^ma_j\tilde{f}_j)_G\\&=& \sum_{i,j=1}^m a_ia_j
(\Delta\tilde{f}_i,\tilde{f}_j)_G\\&=&\sum_{i=1}^ma_i^2
(\Delta\tilde{f}_i,\tilde{f}_i)_G\\&=& \sum_{i=1}^ma_i^2
(\Delta_if_i,f_i)_{B_i}\\&=& \sum_{i=1}^m
a_i^2\lambda_\mathrm{max}(B_i)(f_i,f_i)_{B_i}\\&\geq&
\min_{i=1,\ldots m}\lambda_\mathrm{max}(B_i)\sum_{i=1}^m
a_i^2(f_i,f_i)_{B_i}\\&=& \min_{i=1,\ldots
m}\lambda_\mathrm{max}(B_i)(\tilde{f},\tilde{f})_G.
\end{eqnarray*} Combining this with (\ref{4}) completes the proof.
\end{proof}
\begin{theo}\label{theofinitegraphs}Let $G=(V,E)$ be a finite graph
and suppose that $2<l=\sup_{x\in
V}\frac{\mu(x)}{\mu_-(x)}<\infty$.
The $(N-m)$-th eigenvalue $\theta_{N-m}$, $m = 1,2,\ldots \lfloor
\frac{D}{2}\rfloor$ of the Laplace operator on $G$ satisfies
\begin{eqnarray*}\theta_{N-m} &\geq& 1 +
2\frac{\sqrt{l-1}}{l}\cos\left(\frac{\pi}{ \lfloor
\frac{D}{2m}\rfloor}\right) - 2\kappa(G),\end{eqnarray*} where
$D\geq 2$ is the diameter of the graph, $\kappa(G) = \sup_{x_0\in
G}\kappa(x_0,G)$ and $\kappa(x_0,G) = \sup_{x\in
G}\frac{\mu_0(x)}{\mu(x)}$.
\end{theo}The case $D=1$ is not interesting since the graph is
then a complete graph and hence all eigenvalues are precisely
known anyway.
\begin{proof}
Let $m = 1,2,\ldots,\lfloor \frac{D}{2}\rfloor$ be given. We can
find $m$ vertices $x_1,\ldots,x_m$ in $G$ that satisfy
$$d(x_i,x_{i+1})\geq 2r,$$ where $r= \lfloor
\frac{D}{2m}\rfloor\geq 1$. Then the balls $B_i:=B(x_i, r-1)$,
$i=1,\ldots m$ are edge disjoint. Indeed if we assume that there
exists $x\in B_i$ and $y\in B_{i+1}$ such that $x\sim y$, then we
obtain from the triangle inequality
$$2r\leq d(x_i,x_{i+1}) \leq d(x_i,x)+ d(x,y)+d(y,x_{i+1})\leq r-1 +1 +r -1= 2r-1 $$
which is a contradiction. Hence we have shown that we can find $m
=1,\ldots, \lfloor \frac{D}{2}\rfloor$ edge disjoint balls $B(x_i,
\lfloor \frac{D}{2m}\rfloor-1)$ in $G$. Using Corollary
\ref{Estimates Balls 2} and Lemma \ref{Estimate Balls} we obtain
\begin{eqnarray*}\theta_{N-m}&\geq&
\min_{i=1,\ldots,m}\lambda_\mathrm{max}(B(x_i,\lfloor
\frac{D}{2m}\rfloor-1))\\&\geq&
1 + \frac{2\sqrt{l-1}}{l}\cos\left(\frac{\pi}{\lfloor \frac{D}{2m}\rfloor}\right)
- 2\max_{i=1,\ldots,m}\kappa(x_i,G)\\ &\geq& 1 +
\frac{2\sqrt{l-1}}{l}\cos\left(\frac{\pi}{\lfloor
\frac{D}{2m}\rfloor}\right) - 2\kappa(G).
\end{eqnarray*}
\end{proof}
\begin{rem}
\begin{itemize}\item[$(i)$] Under the same
assumptions as in the last theorem, Urakawa \cite{Urakawa99}
showed that \begin{equation} \label{Urakawa} \theta_m\leq 1 -
2\frac{\sqrt{l-1}}{l}\cos\left(\frac{\pi}{ \lfloor
\frac{D}{2m}\rfloor}\right),\end{equation} for all $m =
1,2,\ldots,\lfloor \frac{D}{2}\rfloor$. Thus Theorem
\ref{theofinitegraphs} is a counterpart of Urakawa's result.
\item[$(ii)$] Using our results in this section together with the
results in \cite{Urakawa99} one immediately obtains a proof of the
famous Alon-Boppana-Serre theorem for the smallest nonzero
eigenvalue and a Alon-Boppana-Serre-type theorem for the largest
eigenvalue if there are no short circuits of odd length in the
graph, see \cite{Friedman93, Lubotzky94, Davidoff03}. In fact one
even obtains slightly stronger results since we do not need the
assumption that the graph is regular nor that $l$ in the above
theorems is an integer, but we only need that the degrees are
bounded from above. A generalization of the Alon-Boppana-Serre
theorem (for both the smallest non-zero and the largest
eigenvalue) for non-regular graphs with bounded degree but integer
$l$ were obtained recently in \cite{Mohar10}, by using a different
method based on the eigenvalue interlacing property of induced
subgraphs.
\end{itemize}
\end{rem}
\section{The top of the spectrum of $\Delta$}\label{Section7}
In Section \ref{Preliminaries} we discussed that the spectrum of
the Laplace operator is connected to the spectrum of the Dirichlet
Laplace operator, see \eqref{Exhaustion}. Now we are going to use
the results obtained for the Dirichlet Laplace operator in the
previous sections to estimate the top of $\sigma(\Delta)$.
The following simple observation will be often used throughout
this section.
\begin{lemma}\label{finitetoinfinite} Let $K$ be a finite subset
of $\Gamma$ and $\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K$ be an exhaustion
of $\Gamma\setminus K$. We have
$$\lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K}\lambda_{\mathrm{max}}(\Omega)
= \overline{\lambda}(\Gamma\setminus K),$$ where
$\overline{\lambda}(\Gamma\setminus K) = \sup
\sigma(\Delta_{\Gamma\setminus K})$ and $\Delta_{\Gamma\setminus
K}$ is the Laplace operator with Dirichlet boundary condition on
$\Gamma\setminus K$.
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}
First we note that the limit on the l.h.s. exists. This follows
from the monotonicity of the largest eigenvalue (see Lemma
\ref{BasicProperties} (v)).
For any $f\in C_0(\Gamma\setminus K)$ (as before $C_0$ denotes the
space of finitely supported functions) there exists a finite
$\Omega(f)\subset\Gamma\setminus K$ such that
$\mathrm{supp}f\subset \Omega(f)$ and consequently
$$\frac{(df,df)}{(f,f)} \leq \sup_{g\in C_0(\Omega(f))}
\frac{(dg,dg)}{(g,g)}.$$ If $\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K$ is
an exhaustion of $\Gamma\setminus K$, we obtain for all $f\in
C_0(\Gamma\setminus K)$
$$\frac{(df,df)}{(f,f)} \leq \lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K} \sup_{g\in C_0(\Omega)}
\frac{(dg,dg)}{(g,g)}.$$ Since $\overline{C_0(\Gamma\setminus K)}=
\ell^2(\Gamma\setminus K)$ one can show that \cite{DodziukKarp}
$$\overline{\lambda}(\Gamma\setminus K) =
\sup_{f\in\ell^2(\Gamma\setminus K)}\frac{(df,df)}{(f,f)} =
\sup_{f\in C_0(\Gamma\setminus K)}\frac{(df,df)}{(f,f)}.$$
Altogether we conclude that
$$\overline{\lambda}(\Gamma\setminus K) =
\sup_{f\in C_0(\Gamma\setminus K)}\frac{(df,df)}{(f,f)} \leq
\lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K} \sup_{g\in
C_0(\Omega)}\frac{(dg,dg)}{(g,g)}=
\lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K}
\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega).$$ On the other hand, for any finite
$\Omega\subset \Gamma\setminus K$ it follows from the monotonicity
of the largest Dirichlet eigenvalue that
$$\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)\leq \overline{\lambda}(\Gamma\setminus
K).$$ Taking an exhaustion $\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K$ we
obtain
$$\lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K} \lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)
\leq \overline{\lambda}(\Gamma\setminus K).$$ This completes the
proof.
\end{proof}
\begin{lemma}\label{bottom1}
Similarly, the smallest eigenvalue satisfies
$$\lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K}\lambda_{1}(\Omega)
= \underline{\lambda}(\Gamma\setminus K),$$ where
$\underline{\lambda}(\Gamma\setminus K) = \inf
\sigma(\Delta_{\Gamma\setminus K})$.
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}The proof is similar to the one of the last lemma, so
we omit it here.
\end{proof}
The last two lemmata will be very useful in the following since
they allows us to transfer results form finite to infinite
subsets.
\begin{lemma}For any finite $K\subset \Gamma$ we have
\begin{equation}\label{finitetoinfinite2}2\bar{h}(\Gamma\setminus K) + h(\Gamma\setminus K)\leq
\overline{\lambda}(\Gamma\setminus K)\leq 1+ \sqrt{1 - (1-\bar{h}(\Gamma\setminus
K))^2},\end{equation}where $\bar{h}(\Gamma\setminus
K)= \lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K}\bar{h}(\Omega)$ and $h(\Gamma\setminus
K)= \lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K}h(\Omega)$.
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}
From Lemma \ref{finitetoinfinite} and \eqref{eq6} we immediately
obtain for an exhaustion $\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K$:
\begin{eqnarray*}\overline{\lambda}(\Gamma\setminus
K)&=&\lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus
K}\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)\\&\leq&
\lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K}\left( 1+ \sqrt{1 -
(1-\bar{h}(\Omega))^2}\right) \\&=& 1+ \sqrt{1 -
(1-\bar{h}(\Gamma\setminus K))^2}\end{eqnarray*} and
\begin{eqnarray*}
\overline{\lambda}(\Gamma\setminus K) &=&\lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K}\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)\\
&\geq& \lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K} \left(
2\bar{h}(\Omega) + h(\Omega)\right)\\&=& 2\bar{h}(\Gamma\setminus
K) + h(\Gamma\setminus K).\end{eqnarray*}
\end{proof}
Now we obtain an estimate for the top of the spectrum by the
Cheeger and the dual Cheeger constant.
\begin{theo}\label{Estimates top of the spectrum} The top of the spectrum satisfies:
$$2\bar{h}(\Gamma) + h(\Gamma)\leq
\overline{\lambda}(\Gamma)\leq 1+ \sqrt{1 -
(1-\bar{h}(\Gamma))^2}$$
\end{theo}
\begin{proof}Let $K=\ \emptyset$ in \eqref{finitetoinfinite2}.
This completes the proof.
\end{proof}
For completeness, we include the estimate of the bottom of the
spectrum which is an easy consequence of Theorem
\ref{CheegerInequality} and Lemma \ref{bottom1}.
\begin{theo}[cf. \cite{Fujiwara96}]\label{bottom4} For any finite $K\subset \Gamma$ we have
\begin{equation}\label{bottom2}
1-\sqrt{1-h^2(\Gamma\setminus K)}\leq
\underline{\lambda}(\Gamma\setminus K)\leq h(\Gamma\setminus K),
\end{equation}
\begin{equation}\label{bottom3}
1-\sqrt{1-h^2(\Gamma)}\leq \underline{\lambda}(\Gamma)\leq
h(\Gamma).
\end{equation}
\end{theo}
\section{The largest eigenvalue and geometric properties of
graphs}\label{Section8} For an infinite graph $\Gamma$ with
positive spectrum (called a nonamenable graph), i.e.
$\underline{\lambda}(\Gamma)>0$ which is equivalent to
$h(\Gamma)>0$ by \eqref{bottom3} in Theorem \ref{bottom4}, it is
known that the graph has exponential volume growth and very fast
heat kernel decay, (see $(10.4)$ and Lemma 8.1 in \cite{Woess00}).
In addition, nonamenablity of graphs is a rough-isometric
invariant property (see Theorem 4.7 in \cite{Woess00}). In this
section we ask the question what the top of the spectrum can tell
us about the graph. More precisely we are asking what we can infer
from $\bar{\lambda}(\Gamma)<2$ about the graph. In contrast to
$\underline{\lambda}(\Gamma)>0$ we will present some examples (see
Example \ref{ex2} and Example \ref{ex3}) which show that
$\bar{\lambda}(\Gamma)<2$ is not rough-isometric invariant. Before
giving these examples, we prove some affirmative results which
indicate that the top of the spectrum controls the geometry of the
graph to the same extent as the first eigenvalue does if the graph
is in some sense close to a bipartite one. Note that Theorem
\ref{Estimates top of the spectrum} implies that
$\overline{\lambda}(\Gamma)<2$ is equivalent to
$\bar{h}(\Gamma)<1.$
In the sequel, we fix some vertex $x_0\in\Gamma.$ We denote the
geodesic sphere of radius $r$ ($r\in\mathds{N}\cup\{0\}$) centered
at $x_0$ by $S_r:=S_r(x_0)=\{y\in\Gamma: d(y,x_0)=r\}.$ Let
$p_r:=|E(S_r,S_{r+1})|, q_r:=|E(S_r,S_r)|,$
$P_r:=\sum_{i=0}^rp_i,$ $Q_r:=\sum_{i=0}^rq_i$ and
$p_{-1}=0,p_0=\mu(x_0)-\mu_{x_0,x_0},q_0=\mu_{x_0,x_0}.$ Then
$\mathrm{vol}(B_r):=\mathrm{vol}(B_r(x_0))=P_{r-1}+P_r+Q_r.$
\begin{theo}\label{EPV}
Let $\Gamma$ be an infinite graph with $\bar{h}(\Gamma)\leq
1-\epsilon_0$ for some $0<\epsilon_0<1.$ If
\begin{equation}\label{eq2}
\limsup_{r\rightarrow\infty}\frac{Q_r}{\mathrm{vol}(B_r)}<\epsilon_0,
\end{equation} then
$$\mathrm{vol}(B_r)\geq C_1e^{C_2r},$$ for some $C_1,C_2>0$ and any $r\geq1.$
\end{theo}
\begin{rem} The condition \eqref{eq2} means that the graph $\Gamma$
is close to a bipartite graph in the sense that $Q_r$ is dominated
by $\mathrm{vol}(B_r)$ (or equivalently $P_r$). Of course
condition \eqref{eq2} is trivially satisfied for bipartite graphs
since $(Q_r=0)$ in this case. Obviously
$\lim_{r\rightarrow\infty}\frac{Q_r}{\mathrm{vol}(B_r)}=0$ is
stronger than \eqref{eq2} which will be used in Corollary
\ref{Coro1} and \ref{Coro2}.
\end{rem}
\begin{proof}
By \eqref{eq2} there exists $r_0>0$ and $\theta<\epsilon_0$ such
that $Q_r\leq \theta \mathrm{vol}(B_r)$ for any $r\geq r_0.$ Then
we have
$$\mathrm{vol}(B_r)=P_{r-1}+P_r+Q_r\leq P_{r-1}+P_r+\theta\mathrm{vol}(B_r).$$ This yields
\begin{equation}\label{eq1}
(1-\theta)\mathrm{vol}(B_r)\leq P_{r-1}+P_r\leq 2P_r.
\end{equation}
We introduce an alternating partition of $B_r$ as follows. Let
$V_1=S_0\cup S_2\cup\cdots\cup S_r$ and $V_2=S_1\cup
S_3\cup\cdots\cup S_{r-1}$ if $r$ is even, or $V_1=S_0\cup
S_2\cup\cdots\cup S_{r-1}$ and $V_2=S_1\cup S_3\cup\cdots\cup
S_{r}$ if $r$ is odd. Then $\bar{h}(\Gamma)\leq 1-\epsilon_0$
implies that
$$2|E(V_1,V_2)|\leq (1-\epsilon_0)\mathrm{vol}(B_r).$$ That is
$$2P_{r-1}\leq(1-\epsilon_0)\mathrm{vol}(B_r)\leq \frac{2(1-\epsilon_0)}{1-\theta}P_r,$$ where the last inequality follows from \eqref{eq1}. Then we have for any $r\geq r_0+1$
\begin{eqnarray*}
p_r&=&P_r-P_{r-1}\geq\left(\frac{1-\theta}{1-\epsilon_0}-1\right)P_{r-1}\\
&\geq&\left(\frac{1-\theta}{1-\epsilon_0}-1\right)\left(\frac{1-\theta}{2}\right)\mathrm{vol}(B_{r-1})\\
&=&\delta(\epsilon_0)\mathrm{vol}(B_{r-1}),
\end{eqnarray*} where $\delta(\epsilon_0)=\left(\frac{1-\theta}{1-\epsilon_0}-1\right)\left(\frac{1-\theta}{2}\right)>0$ since $\theta<\epsilon_0.$
Then for $r\geq r_0+1$
\begin{eqnarray*}
\mathrm{vol}(B_r)&=&\mathrm{vol}(B_{r-1})+p_r+p_{r-1}+q_r\\
&\geq&\mathrm{vol}(B_{r-1})+p_r\\
&\geq&(1+\delta(\epsilon_0))\mathrm{vol}(B_{r-1}).
\end{eqnarray*}
The iterations imply that
$$\mathrm{vol}(B_r)\geq(1+\delta)^{r-r_0}\mathrm{vol}(B_{r_0}),$$
for any $r\geq r_0.$ The theorem follows.
\end{proof}
Next we give some sufficient conditions for the previous theorem.
We assume in the next two corollaries that
$\mathrm{vol}(B_r)\uparrow\infty$ $(r\rightarrow\infty)$. A
sufficient condition for this is for example that $\mu_{xy}\geq
C_0>0$ for any $x\sim y.$
\begin{coro}\label{Coro1}
Let $\Gamma$ be an infinite graph with $\bar{h}(\Gamma)\leq
1-\epsilon_0$ for some $0<\epsilon_0<1$ and
\begin{equation}\label{eq3}
\sum_{r=0}^\infty\frac{q_r}{\mathrm{vol}(B_r)}<\infty,
\end{equation} where we assume that $\mathrm{vol}(B_r)\uparrow\infty$
$(r\rightarrow\infty)$. Then we have
$$\mathrm{vol}(B_r)\geq C_1e^{C_2r},$$ for some $C_1,C_2>0$ and any $r\geq1.$
\end{coro}
\begin{proof}
Kronecker's lemma, which is well-known in probability theory (see
\cite{Durrett96}), \eqref{eq3}, and
$\mathrm{vol}(B_r)\uparrow\infty$ imply that
$$\frac{Q_r}{\mathrm{vol}(B_r)}\rightarrow 0,\ \ \ \ r\rightarrow\infty.$$ Then the corollary follows from Theorem \ref{EPV}.
\end{proof}
\begin{coro}\label{Coro2}
Let $\Gamma$ be an infinite graph with
$\mathrm{vol}(B_r)\uparrow\infty$ $(r\rightarrow\infty)$,
$\bar{h}(\Gamma)\leq 1-\epsilon_0$ for some $0<\epsilon_0<1$ and
$$p_r\rightarrow\infty,\ \frac{q_r}{p_r}\rightarrow0,\ \ \ r\rightarrow\infty.$$ Then we have
$$\mathrm{vol}(B_r)\geq C_1e^{C_2r},$$ for some $C_1,C_2>0$ and any $r\geq1.$
\end{coro}
\begin{proof}
The corollary follows from
$$\frac{Q_r}{\mathrm{vol}(B_r)}\leq\frac{Q_r}{P_r}\rightarrow0,\ \ \ \ r\rightarrow\infty,$$ since $p_r\rightarrow\infty$ and $\frac{q_r}{p_r}\rightarrow0$ (L'Hospital's Rule).
\end{proof}
We recall the definition of Cayley graphs. Let $G$ be a group. A
subset $S\subset G$ is called a generating set of $G$ if any $x\in
G$ can be written as $x=s_1s_2\cdots s_n$ for some $n\geq1$ and
$s_i\in S,$ $1\leq i\leq n.$
\begin{defi}\label{Cayley graph} For a group $G$ and a finite symmetric generating set $S$ of $G$ (i.e. $S=S^{-1}$), there exists a graph $\Gamma=(V,E)$
associated with the pair $(G,S)$ where the set of vertices $V=G$
and $(x,y)\in E$ iff $x=ys$ for some $s\in S.$ It is called the
Cayley graph associated with $(G,S).$
\end{defi}
In the following examples, we calculate the largest eigenvalues of
Dirichlet Laplace operator. These calculations will show that
$\bar{\lambda}<2$ is not a rough-isometric invariant.
\begin{example}\label{ex1}
Let $P_{\infty}$ be the graph of an infinite line which is the
Cayley graph of $(\mathds{Z},\{\pm 1\})$, see Figure \ref{Fig.1}.
Denote $\Omega_n^{k_0}:=\{k_0+i: 0\leq i\leq n-1\}.$ By the
symmetry, $\lambda(\Omega_n^{k_0})=\lambda(\Omega_n^{k_1})$ for
any $k_0,k_1\in\mathds{Z}.$ Without loss of generality, we
consider the Dirichlet eigenvalues of $\Omega_n:=\Omega_n^0.$ Then
the eigenvalues of $\Delta_{\Omega_n}$ are
$$1-\cos\frac{j\pi}{n+1},\ \ \ \ j=1,2,\cdots,n.$$ Hence
$$\lambda_1(\Omega_n)=1-\cos\frac{\pi}{n+1}\rightarrow 0,$$ and
$$\lambda_{\mathrm{max}}(\Omega_n)=1+\cos\frac{\pi}{n+1}\rightarrow 2,$$
as $n\rightarrow\infty.$ By \eqref{Exhaustion} this implies that
$\underline{\lambda}(\Gamma)=0$ and
$\overline{\lambda}(\Gamma)=2$.
\end{example}
\begin{figure}\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width =
7cm]{InfinitePath.pdf}\caption{\label{Fig.1} The infinite path
$P_{\infty}$. }
\end{center}
\end{figure}
\begin{example}\label{ex2}
Let $\Gamma=(V,E),$
$V=\{i\in\mathds{Z}\}\cup\{i'\in\mathds{Z}\}=V_1\cup V_2,$ i.e.
the disjoint union $\mathds{Z}\sqcup\mathds{Z},$ and
$E=E(V_1,V_1)\cup E(V_2,V_2)\cup E(V_1,V_2)$ where
$$E(V_1,V_1)=\{(i,j):i,j\in V_1, |i-j|=1\},$$
$$E(V_2,V_2)=\{(i',j'):i',j'\in V_2, |i'-j'|=1\},$$
and
$$E(V_1,V_2)=\{(i,j'):i\in V_1, j'\in V_2, |i-j'|=0\ or\ 1\},$$ see Figure
\ref{Fig.2}. Let $\Omega_n=\{i\in V_1: 0\leq i\leq
n-1\}\cup\{j'\in V_2: 0\leq j'\leq n-1\}.$ Then
$$\lambda_1(\Omega_n)=\frac{4}{5}(1-\cos\frac{\pi}{n+1})\rightarrow 0,$$ and
$$\lambda_{\mathrm{max}}(\Omega_n)=\frac{4}{5}(1+\cos\frac{\pi}{n+1})\rightarrow \frac{8}{5}<2,$$
as $ n\rightarrow\infty.$ Again by \eqref{Exhaustion} we have
$\underline{\lambda}(\Gamma)=0$ and
$\overline{\lambda}(\Gamma)=\frac{8}{5}$.
\end{example}
\begin{figure}\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width =
7cm, bb=0 0 400 300]{Example2.pdf}\caption{\label{Fig.2} The
graph from Example \ref{ex2}.}
\end{center}
\end{figure}
\begin{example}\label{ex3}
Let $\Gamma$ be the Cayley graph of
$(\mathds{Z}\times\mathds{Z}_3,\{(\pm 1,\pm 1)\})$ and
$\Omega_n=\{i\in \mathds{Z}: 0\leq i\leq n-1\}\times\mathds{Z}_3$,
see Figure \ref{Fig.3}. Then
$$\lambda_1(\Omega_n)=\frac{1}{2}(1-\cos\frac{\pi}{n+1})\rightarrow 0,$$
and
$$\lambda_{\mathrm{max}}(\Omega_n)=\frac{5}{4}+\frac{1}{2}\cos\frac{\pi}{n+1}\rightarrow \frac{7}{4}<2,$$
$n\rightarrow\infty.$ Again by \eqref{Exhaustion} we have
$\underline{\lambda}(\Gamma)=0$ and
$\overline{\lambda}(\Gamma)=\frac{7}{4}$.
\end{example}
\begin{figure}\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width =
7cm]{Infinitetriangles.pdf}\caption{\label{Fig.3} The Cayley
graph of $(\mathds{Z}\times\mathds{Z}_3,\{(\pm 1,\pm 1)\})$.}
\end{center}
\end{figure}
\begin{rem}\label{Remark hbar weak}
Example \ref{ex2} and Example \ref{ex3} show that in general
without additional conditions like \eqref{eq2} one cannot hope
that $\Gamma$ has exponential volume growth under the assumption
of $\bar{h}(\Gamma)<1$ (or, by Theorem \ref{Estimates top of the
spectrum}, equivalently $\bar{\lambda}(\Gamma)<2$). The heat
kernels $p_n(x,y)$ in Example \ref{ex2} and Example \ref{ex3}
decay as $\frac{1}{\sqrt{n}}$ which is the slowest possible rate
of heat kernel on infinite graph, see \cite{Coulhon99}. Hence the
spectral gap of $\bar{\lambda}(\Gamma)$
($\bar{\lambda}(\Gamma)<2$) does not imply any nice heat kernel
estimate.
\end{rem}
We recall the definition of rough isometries between metric
spaces, also called quasi-isometries (see
\cite{Gromov81,Woess00,Burago01}).
\begin{defi} Let $(X,d^X), (Y,d^Y)$ be two metric spaces. A rough isometry is a mapping $\phi: X\rightarrow Y$ such that
$$a^{-1}d^X(x,y)-b\leq d^Y(\phi(x),\phi(y))\leq a d^X(x,y)+b,$$ for all $x,y\in X,$ and
$$d^Y(z,\phi(X))\leq b,$$ for any $z\in Y,$ where $a\geq 1,$ $b\geq0$ and $d^Y(z,\phi(X)):=\inf\{d^Y(z,\phi(x)): x\in X\}.$ It is called an $(a,b)$-rough isometry.
\end{defi}
For infinite graphs, we consider the metric structure defined by
the graph distance. It is easy to see that the graphs in Example
\ref{ex1}, Example \ref{ex2}, and Example \ref{ex3} are
rough-isometric to each other, but in the first example
$\bar{\lambda}(\Gamma)=2$ whereas in the other two examples
$\bar{\lambda}(\Gamma)<2$. Hence the spectral gap of
$\bar{\lambda}(\Gamma)$ is not a rough-isometric invariant
although this is true for the spectral gap of
$\underline{\lambda}(\Gamma)$, see \cite{Woess00}. We summarize
these insights in the following corollary:
\begin{coro}\label{coro hbar weak }
For infinite graphs, the property that $\bar{h}(\Gamma)<1$, or
equivalently $\bar{\lambda}(\Gamma)<2$, is not a rough-isometric
invariant.
\end{coro}
\section{The largest eigenvalue of graphs with certain symmetries}\label{Section9}
In this section, we shall consider an upper bound estimate for the
top of the spectrum which comes from the geometric properties of
graphs with certain symmetries, see quasi-transitive graphs in
\cite{Woess00}.
Let $\Gamma$ be a locally finite, connected, unweighted (infinite)
graph with the graph distance $d.$ An automorphism of $\Gamma$ is
a self-isometry of the metric space $(\Gamma, d).$ The group of
all automorphisms of $\Gamma$ is denoted by
$\mathrm{Aut}(\Gamma).$ For any $x\in \Gamma,$ as a subset of
$\Gamma,$ $\mathrm{Aut}(\Gamma) x:=\{gx: g\in \mathrm{Aut}(\Gamma)
\}$ is called an orbit of $x$ with respect to $\mathrm{Aut}
(\Gamma).$ It is easy to see that all orbits, denoted by
$\Gamma\slash \mathrm{Aut}(\Gamma)=\{O_i\}_{i\in \mathcal{I}}$,
compose a partition of $\Gamma.$
\begin{defi}
A graph $\Gamma$ is called quasi-transitive if there are finitely
many orbits for $\mathrm{Aut}(\Gamma$), i.e. $\sharp
\mathcal{I}<\infty.$ It is called vertex-transitive if there is
only one orbit, i.e. $\sharp \mathcal{I}=1.$
\end{defi}
By the definition, vertex-transitive graphs are quasi-transitive.
In particular, Cayley graphs (see Definition \ref{Cayley graph})
are vertex-transitive and hence quasi-transitive. Figure
\ref{quasitran} is an example of a quasi-transitive graph which is
not vertex-transitive.
\begin{figure}\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width =
12cm]{quasitransitive1.pdf}\caption{\label{quasitran}A quasi-transitive graph.}
\end{center}
\end{figure}
Let $\Gamma$ be a quasi-transitive graph and $\Gamma\slash
\mathrm{Aut}(\Gamma)=\{O_i\}_{i\in \mathcal{I}}$. Denote by
$d(\Gamma):=\max\{d_x: x\in \Gamma\}$ the maximal degree of
$\Gamma$ (in accordance with the existing literature we denote in
this section the degree of an unweighted graph by $d_x$ instead of
$\mu(x)$). For any (infinite) graph $\Gamma,$ a cycle of length
$n$, is a closed path as $x_0\sim x_1\sim\cdots\sim x_{n-1}\sim
x_0.$ It is called a circuit (or simple cycle) if there are no
repeated vertices on the cycle. Let us denote by $OG(\Gamma)$ the
odd girth of $\Gamma,$ i.e. the length of the shortest odd cycles
in the graph $\Gamma$ ($OG(\Gamma)=\infty$ if there is no odd
cycles). It is easy to see that there is an odd-length circuit
attaining this number if $OG(\Gamma)<\infty.$ In addition,
$OG(\Gamma)=\infty$ if and only if $\Gamma$ is bipartite.
In case $\Gamma$ is a finite graph, we consider the ordinary
normalized Laplace operator (not the Dirichlet one) defined on
$\Gamma$, see \cite{Chung97, Grigoryan09,Bauer12}. Then the
largest eigenvalue of the Laplace operator on $\Gamma$ is equal to
2 if and only if $\Gamma$ is bipartite. We want to prove a similar
result for the largest eigenvalue of the Dirichlet Laplace
operator on infinite graphs. However, for infinite graphs, $2$ is
not always contained in the spectrum if $\Gamma$ is bipartite
(think of the homogenous trees), nor is the graph bipartite if $2$
is in the spectrum (see the example in Remark \ref{Remark
counterexample}). However, if the graph is a quasi-transitive
graph we have the following theorem which is the main result of
this section:
\begin{theo}\label{mainth1}
Let $\Gamma$ be a quasi-transitive graph which is not bipartite.
Then
$$\bar{h}(\Gamma)\leq 1-\delta,$$ where $\delta=\delta(d(\Gamma),\sharp \mathcal{I}, OG(\Gamma)).$
\end{theo}
Recall that by Theorem \ref{Estimates top of the spectrum},
$\overline{\lambda}(\Gamma)=2$ is equivalent to
$\bar{h}(\Gamma)=1.$ As a direct corollary of Theorem
\ref{mainth1}, we obtain
\begin{coro}\label{mthlast}
Let $\Gamma$ be a quasi-transitive graph. If
$\bar{\lambda}(\Gamma)=2,$ then $\Gamma$ is bipartite.
\end{coro}
\begin{rem}\label{Remark counterexample}
This corollary is known in the case of Cayley graphs, see
\cite{HarpeRobertsonValette}. Instead of using C*-algebra
techniques, we estimate the geometric quantity, the dual Cheeger
constant, to prove this result so that it can be easily extended
to graphs with symmetry, e.g. quasi-transitive graphs. Note that
this corollary is not true for general graphs. For instance, the
standard lattice $\mathds{Z}^2$ with one more edge $((0,0),(1,1))$
is a counterexample. In addition, the converse of the assertion is
obviously not true (e.g. for the infinite $d$-regular tree $T_d$,
we have $\bar{\lambda}(\Gamma) =
1+\frac{2\sqrt{d-1}}{d}$).\end{rem}
In order to illustrate the main idea of the proof, we first
consider the case of Cayley graphs which is much easier. Let
$\Gamma$ be the Cayley graph of a group and a generating set
$(G,S)$. For simplicity, we assume the Cayley graph $\Gamma$ is
simple (i.e. the unit element $e\notin S$) and unweighted (i.e.
$\mu_{xy}=1$ for any $x\sim y$). Cayley graphs are regular graphs
with homogeneous structure. If there exists a circuit in $\Gamma$,
then there are isomorphic circuits passing through each vertex of
$\Gamma$.
The idea of the proof comes from the upper bound estimate of the
maximum cut of finite graphs.
\begin{defi}
The maximum cut of a finite graph $\Gamma$ is defined as
$$Mc(\Gamma):=\max_{V=V_1\cup V_2,V_1\cap V_2=\emptyset}|E(V_1,V_2)|.$$
\end{defi}
\begin{theo}\label{mthlast2}
Let $\Gamma=(V,E)$ be a finite Cayley graph of $(G,S).$ If it is
not bipartite, then
$$Mc(\Gamma)\leq m(1-\delta),$$
where $m$ is the number of edges in $\Gamma$ and
$\delta=\delta(d(\Gamma),OG(\Gamma)).$
\end{theo}
\begin{proof}
Let us denote by $n=\sharp V, m=\sharp E$ and $d=\sharp S$ the
number of vertices, the number of edges and the degree of
$\Gamma$, respectively.
Case 1. $OG(\Gamma)=3.$
Then each vertex of $\Gamma$ is contained in at least one
triangle. We denote by $\triangle$ the set of all triangles in
$\Gamma$ and by $|\triangle|:=\sharp \triangle$ the number of
triangles in $\Gamma.$ Since each vertex is contained in at least
one triangle, $3|\triangle|\geq n.$ For any partition of
$V=V_1\cup V_2$ $(V_1\cap V_2=\emptyset),$ we define a
(single-valued) mapping as
$$T:\ \triangle\rightarrow E(V_1,V_2)^c$$
$$\triangle\ni \triangle_1 \mapsto T(\triangle_1),$$
where $E(V_1,V_2)^c=E\backslash E(V_1,V_2)$ and $T(\triangle_1)$
is one of the edges of the triangle $\triangle_1$ which does not
lie in $E(V_1,V_2).$ Note that there always exists at least one
such edge in each triangle $\triangle_1$.
We shall bound the multiplicity of the mapping $T,$ i.e. the
universal upper bound of $\sharp T^{-1}(e)$ for any $e\in
E(V_1,V_2)^c$. If $\triangle_1,\cdots,\triangle_k\in T^{-1}(e)$
for some $e\in E(V_1,V_2)^c,$ then the triangles
$\triangle_1,\cdots,\triangle_k$ share one edge $e.$ It is easy to
see that $k\leq d-1$ by local finiteness. Hence
$$|E(V_1,V_2)^c|\geq\sharp T(\triangle)\geq \frac{|\triangle|}{d-1}.$$ It follows from $m=\frac{nd}{2}$ and $3|\triangle|\geq n$ that
$$|E(V_1,V_2)^c|\geq \frac{n}{3(d-1)}=\frac{2m}{3d(d-1)}.$$
This yields
\begin{equation}\label{eq4}|E(V_1,V_2)|\leq m-\frac{2m}{3d(d-1)}=m\left(1-\frac{2}{3d(d-1)}\right).\end{equation}
Case 2. $OG(\Gamma)=2s+1$ for $s\geq2.$
Let $\pentagon$ denote the set of circuits of length $2s+1$ in
$\Gamma$ and $|\pentagon|:=\sharp \pentagon.$ Then there exists at
least one circuit of length $2s+1$ passing through each vertex
which implies $(2s+1)|\pentagon|\geq n$. Given any partition of
$\Gamma=V_1\cup V_2$ $(V_1\cap V_2=\emptyset),$ we may define a
mapping as
$$T:\ \pentagon\rightarrow E(V_1,V_2)^c$$
$$\pentagon\ni \pentagon_1 \mapsto T(\pentagon_1),$$ where $T(\pentagon_1)$ is one of edges of the circuit $\pentagon_1$ which does not lie in $E(V_1,V_2).$ By the odd length of the circuit $\pentagon_1,$ the mapping $T$ is well defined.
The key point is to estimate the multiplicity of the mapping $T.$
Suppose $\pentagon_1,\cdots,\pentagon_k\in T^{-1}(e)$ for some
$e\in E(V_1,V_2)^c,$ then each of them is contained in the
geodesic ball $B_s(a)$ where $a$ is one of the vertices of $e.$
Since the number of vertices in $B_s(a)$ is bounded above by
$d^s,$ the number of circuits of length $2s+1$ in $B_s(a)$ is
bounded above by $\binom{d^s}{2s+1}.$ That is $k=\sharp
T^{-1}(e)\leq \binom{d^s}{2s+1}.$ Hence
$$|E(V_1,V_2)^c|\geq\sharp T(\pentagon)\geq \frac{|\pentagon|}{\binom{d^s}{2s+1}}\geq \frac{2m}{d(2s+1)\binom{d^s}{2s+1}}=\frac{m}{C(d,s)}$$
This implies that
\begin{equation}\label{eq5}|E(V_1,V_2)|\leq m-\frac{m}{C(d,s)}=m(1-\delta(d,s)).\end{equation}
The theorem follows from \eqref{eq4} and \eqref{eq5}.
\end{proof}
The ingredient of Theorem \ref{mthlast2} is that the ratio
$\frac{Mc(V_1,V_2)}{m}\leq 1-\delta$ has an upper bound which is
independent of the number of vertices of the finite Cayley graph.
This suggests that we may obtain similar estimates for
$\bar{h}(\Gamma)$ for infinite Cayley graphs. Indeed, we now prove
the following theorem for infinite Cayley graphs which is the
special case of Theorem \ref{mainth1}.
\begin{theo}\label{mthlast1}
Let $\Gamma$ be an infinite Cayley graph of $(G,S).$ If it is not
bipartite, then
\begin{equation}\label{eq8}\bar{h}(\Gamma)\leq 1-\delta,
\end{equation} where $\delta=\delta(d(\Gamma),OG(\Gamma))>0.$
\end{theo}
\begin{rem}
The ingredient of the proof is that once there is an odd-length
circuit in the Cayley graph $\Gamma,$ there is at least one
odd-length circuit passing through each vertex which makes the
graph systematically different from a bipartite one. Then it
becomes possible to estimate $\bar{h}(\Gamma)$ from above.
\end{rem}
\begin{proof}
By the definition of
$\bar{h}(\Gamma)=\lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma}\bar{h}(\Omega)$ and
\eqref{dcc}, it suffices to show that for any finite disjoint
subsets $V_1,V_2\subset\Gamma,$
$$|E(V_1,V_2)|\leq C(|E(V_1,V_1)|+|E(V_2,V_2)|+|\partial (V_1\cup V_2)|),$$ where $C=C(d(\Gamma),OG(\Gamma)).$ We denote $V_3:=(V_1\cup V_2)^c=\Gamma\backslash (V_1\cup V_2)$ and $F(V_1,V_2):=E(V_1,V_1)\cup E(V_2,V_2)\cup \partial(V_1\cup V_2).$ Let $d=d(\Gamma).$
Case 1. $OG(\Gamma)=3.$
Then there is a triangle passing through each vertex of $\Gamma$.
We define a mapping as
$$T: E(V_1,V_2)\rightarrow F(V_1,V_2)$$
$$E(V_1,V_2)\ni e\mapsto T(e).$$ Given any $e\in E(V_1,V_2),$ we choose a
vertex $a\in e$ and a triangle $\triangle_1$ containing the vertex
$a.$ Since there exists at least one edge $e_1$ of $\triangle_1$
which lies in $F(V_1,V_2),$ we define $T(e)=e_1.$
The key point is to estimate the multiplicity of the mapping $T.$
For any $e_1\in F(V_1,V_2)$ such that $T^{-1}(e_1)\neq\emptyset,$
any $e\in T^{-1}(e_1)$ lies in the geodesic ball $B_2(b)$ where
$b$ is one of vertices of $e_1.$ Then $$\sharp T^{-1}(e_1)\leq
\mathrm{the\ number\ of\ edges\ in\ } B_2(b)\leq \binom{d^2}{2}.$$
Hence $$\sharp F(V_1,V_2)\geq \sharp T(E(V_1,V_2))\geq
\frac{|E(V_1,V_2)|}{\binom{d^2}{2}}.$$ Since $|E(V_1,V_1)|=2\sharp
E(V_1,V_1),$ we have
$$\sharp F(V_1,V_2)\leq |E(V_1,V_1)|+|E(V_2,V_2)|+|\partial (V_1\cup V_2)|.$$ This yields
$$|E(V_1,V_2)|\leq C(d)(|E(V_1,V_1)|+|E(V_2,V_2)|+|\partial (V_1\cup V_2)|).$$
Case 2. $OG(\Gamma)=2s+1\ (s\geq2).$
Then there exists at least one circuit of length $2s+1$ passing
through each vertex. We claim that for any circuit $C$ of length
$2s+1$ which intersects $V_1\cup V_2,$ $C\cap F(V_1, V_2)\neq
\emptyset,$ i.e. there exists at least one edge of $C$ contained
in $F(V_1,V_2).$ If not, all the edges of $C$ are contained in
$E(V_1,V_2)$ since the set of edges $E=E(V_1,V_2)\cup
F(V_1,V_2)\cup E(V_3,V_3)$ and $C\cap (V_1\cup V_2)\neq\emptyset.$
Then $C$ is a bipartite subgraph which contradicts to the odd
length of $C$. Then the claim follows.
We define a mapping as
$$T: E(V_1,V_2)\rightarrow F(V_1,V_2)$$
$$E(V_1,V_2)\ni e\mapsto T(e).$$
For any $e\in E(V_1,V_2)$ and a vertex $a\in e,$ there is a
circuit $C$ of length $2s+1$ passing through $a$. By the claim, we
may choose one of edges of $C$, $e_1$, which lies in $F(V_1,V_2)$
and define $T(e)=e_1.$
We shall estimate the multiplicity of the mapping $T.$ For any
$e_1\in T(E(V_1,V_2))$ and $e\in T^{-1}(e_1),$ the edge $e$ lies
in the geodesic ball $B_{s+1}(b)$ where $b$ is a vertex of $e_1.$
Then $\sharp T^{-1}(e_1)\leq \binom{d^{s+1}}{2}.$ Hence
$$\sharp F(V_1,V_2)\geq \frac{|E(V_1,V_2)|}{\binom{d^{s+1}}{2}}.$$
Then
$$|E(V_1,V_2)|\leq C(d,s)(|E(V_1,V_1)|+|E(V_2,V_2)|+|\partial (V_1\cup V_2)|).$$
Combining the case 1 and 2, we prove the theorem.
\end{proof}
Now we prove the main theorem of this section.
\begin{proof}[Proof of Theorem \ref{mainth1}]
Let $\Gamma$ be a quasi-transitive graph and $\Gamma\slash
\mathrm{Aut}(\Gamma)=\{O_i\}_{i\in \mathcal{I}}$ ($\sharp
\mathcal{I}<\infty$). Suppose $OG(\Gamma)=2s+1\ (s\geq 1),$ then
there exists a circuit of length $2s+1$, $C_{2s+1}$, passing
through a vertex in $O_j$ for some $j\in\mathcal{I}.$ By the group
action of $\mathrm{Aut}(\Gamma),$ there exists at least one
circuit of length $2s+1$ passing through each vertex in $O_j.$
Since $\Gamma$ is connected, for any $x\in \Gamma,$ there is a
path $P=\cup_{i=0}^{l-1}\{(x_i,x_{i+1})\},$ i.e. $x=x_0\sim
x_1\sim \cdots\sim x_l$ such that $x_l\in O_j$ and $l\leq \sharp
\mathcal{I}.$
For any two disjoint subset $V_1$ and $V_2,$ we define a mapping
$$T: E(V_1,V_2)\rightarrow F(V_1,V_2)$$
$$E(V_1,V_2)\ni e\mapsto T(e),$$ where $F(V_1,V_2):=E(V_1,V_1)
\cup E(V_2,V_2)\cup \partial(V_1\cup V_2).$ For any $e\in E(V_1,
V_2)$ and a vertex $x_0\in e,$ there is a path
$P=\cup_{i=0}^{l-1}\{(x_i,x_{i+1})\}$ such that $x_l\in O_j$ and
$l\leq \sharp \mathcal{I}.$ Let $C_{2s+1}$ be a circuit of length
$2s+1$ passing through $x_l.$ The same argument in Theorem
\ref{mthlast1} implies that $(P\cup C_{2s+1})\cap F(V_1,V_2)\neq
\emptyset.$ We choose one edge $e_1\in(P\cup C_{2s+1})\cap
F(V_1,V_2)$ and define $T(e)=e_1.$
We estimate the multiplicity of the mapping $T.$ For any $e_1\in
T(E(V_1,V_2))$ and $e\in T^{-1}(e_1),$ the edge $e$ lies in the
geodesic ball $B_{\sharp \mathcal{I}+s+1}(b)$ where $b$ is a
vertex of $e_1.$ Since $d(\Gamma)=\max\{d_x: x\in \Gamma\},$
$\sharp T^{-1}(e_1)\leq \binom{d(\Gamma)^{\sharp
\mathcal{I}+s+1}}{2}.$ Hence
$$\sharp F(V_1,V_2)\geq \frac{|E(V_1,V_2)|}{\binom{d(\Gamma)^{\sharp\mathcal{I}+s+1}}{2}}.$$
Then
$$|E(V_1,V_2)|\leq C(d(\Gamma),\sharp \mathcal{I},s)(|E(V_1,V_1)|+|E(V_2,V_2)|+|\partial (V_1\cup V_2)|)$$ which proves the theorem.
\end{proof}
\section{The essential spectrum of $
\Delta$}\label{Section10} In this section, we use the results in
the previous sections to estimate the essential spectrum of
infinite graphs. We denote by $\sigma^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma)$ the
essential spectrum of normalized Laplace operator $\Delta$ of an
infinite graph $\Gamma$ and define the bottom and the top of the
essential spectrum as
$\underline{\lambda}^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma):=\inf
\sigma^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma)$ and
$\bar{\lambda}^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma)=\sup
\sigma^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma).$ Recall that the spectrum is given
by $\sigma(\Gamma) := \sigma^\mathrm{disc}(\Gamma)
\dot{\cup}\sigma^\mathrm{ess}(\Gamma)$, where
$\sigma^\mathrm{disc}(\Gamma)$ contains isolated eigenvalues of
finite multiplicity.
We recall the following theorem due to Fujiwara \cite{Fujiwara96}
which is also known as the decomposition principle in the
continuous setting, see \cite{Donnelly79}.
\begin{theo}[Fujiwara \cite{Fujiwara96}]\label{decomposition theorem} Let $\Gamma$ be an
infinite graph and $K$ be a finite subgraph. Then
$\sigma^\mathrm{ess}(\Delta(\Gamma)) =
\sigma^\mathrm{ess}(\Delta(\Gamma\setminus K))$ where
$\Delta(\Gamma\setminus K)$ denotes the Laplace operator with
Dirichlet boundary conditions.
\end{theo} This theorem shows that the essential spectrum of a
graph is invariant under compact perturbations of the graph. Hence
the essential spectrum does not depend on local properties of
graph but rather on the behavior of the graph at infinity. In
order to estimate the essential spectrum of $\Delta$ we are going
to define the Cheeger and the dual Cheeger constant at infinity.
\begin{defi}[cf. \cite{Brooks,Fujiwara96}]
The Cheeger constant at infinity $h_\infty$ is defined as
$$h_\infty =\lim_{K\uparrow \Gamma}h(\Gamma\setminus K).$$
\end{defi}
\begin{defi} The dual Cheeger constant at infinity
$\bar{h}_\infty$ is defined as
$$\bar{h}_\infty =\lim_{K\uparrow \Gamma}\bar{h}(\Gamma\setminus K).$$
\end{defi}
\begin{theo}\label{essential spectrum}
For the top of the essential spectrum we obtain $$2\bar{h}_\infty
+ h_\infty\leq \overline{\lambda}^\mathrm{ess}(\Gamma)\leq 1+
\sqrt{1 - (1-\bar{h}_\infty)^2}$$
\end{theo}
\begin{proof}Take an exhaustion $K\uparrow\Gamma$ in \eqref{finitetoinfinite2}.
This completes the proof.
\end{proof}
For completeness, we write down the estimate of the bottom of the
essential spectrum which is a consequence of \eqref{bottom2} in
Theorem \ref{bottom4}, see also \cite{Fujiwara96}.
\begin{theo}[cf. \cite{Fujiwara96}]\label{bottom5}
For the bottom of the essential spectrum we have
$$1-\sqrt{1-h_{\infty}^2}\leq \underline{\lambda}^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma)\leq h_{\infty}.$$
\end{theo}
\begin{rem}
Remark \ref{Remark hbar weak} and Corollary \ref{coro hbar weak }
suggest that the dual Cheeger constant $\bar{h}$ is weaker than
the Cheeger constant $h$. Nevertheless, in the next theorem we
prove the somehow surprising results that at infinity both
quantities contain the same information.
\end{rem}The next theorem is the main result of this section.
\begin{theo}\label{hbar and h at infinity} Let $\Gamma$ be a
graph without self-loops. The following statements are equivalent:
\begin{itemize}
\item[$(i)$] $\bar{h}_\infty =0$\item[$(ii)$] $h_\infty
=1$\item[$(iii)$] $\sigma^\mathrm{ess}(\Gamma)=\{1\}$
\end{itemize}
\end{theo}
\begin{proof}The equivalence of $(ii)$
and $(iii)$ was proved by Fujiwara \cite{Fujiwara96}. It suffices
to show the equivalence of $(i)$ and $(ii).$ From Theorem \ref{h
and hbar} and Theorem \ref{h and hbar 3} it follows that for
finite subsets $\Omega\subset V $
$$\frac{1}{2}(1-h(\Omega))\leq \bar{h}(\Omega)\leq 1-h(\Omega).$$
This immediately translates to results for infinite subsets, i.e.
for finite $K\subset\Gamma$
\begin{eqnarray*}\frac{1}{2}(1-h(\Gamma\setminus K))&=& \lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K}
\frac{1}{2}(1-h(\Omega)) \leq \lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus
K} \bar{h}(\Omega) = \bar{h}(\Gamma\setminus K)\\ &\leq&
\lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K} (1-h(\Omega)) = 1 -
h(\Gamma\setminus K).\end{eqnarray*} Taking an exhaustion $
K\uparrow\Gamma$ yields
$$\frac{1}{2}(1-h_\infty)\leq \bar{h}_\infty \leq 1-h_\infty.$$
This proves that $\bar{h}_\infty =0$ if and only if $h_\infty =1.$
\end{proof}
\begin{rem}
\begin{itemize}
\item[$(i)$] The implication $h_\infty=1 \Rightarrow
\bar{h}_\infty =0$ is also true for graphs with self-loops by
Theorem \ref{h and hbar}. \item[$(ii)$] The reason why the proof
of Theorem \ref{hbar and h at infinity} does not work for graphs
with self-loops is that for such graphs one cannot always find a
partition that satisfies \eqref{surgery equation} and hence the
lower bound for $\bar{h}(\Omega)$ in Theorem \ref{h and hbar 3} is
not true. \item[$(iii)$] In general, for graphs with self-loops,
one cannot even expect that $h_\infty
>0$ if $\bar{h}_\infty =0$. The next example shows a graph with
self-loops for which $h_\infty=\bar{h}_\infty =0$ holds.
\end{itemize}
\end{rem}
\begin{example}Consider the graph $\Gamma$ in Figure \ref{Fig.4}. It
is easy to verify that for this graph $\bar{h}_\infty =h_\infty
=0$. Moreover, for this graph we have $\sigma^\mathrm{ess} =
\{0\}$. This can be seen as follows: We know that
$\lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K}
\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega) = \overline{\lambda}(\Gamma\setminus
K)$, where $\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K$ is an exhaustion of
$\Gamma\setminus K$ and $\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)$ is the
largest eigenvalue of the Laplace operator with Dirichlet boundary
conditions. Moreover,
$\lim_{K\uparrow\Gamma}\overline{\lambda}(\Gamma\setminus K) =
\overline{\lambda}^\mathrm{ess}(\Gamma)$ which yields
$\lim_{K\uparrow\Gamma} \lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus K}
\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega) =
\overline{\lambda}^\mathrm{ess}(\Gamma)$. By abuse of notation we
denote in the following the closed ball centered at $0$ with
radius $K$ by $K$, i.e. $K := B(0,K)$. By considering the trace of
$\Delta_{\Omega}$ where $\Omega\uparrow \Gamma\setminus B(0,K)$ we
have
$$\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)\leq \sum_{i =1}^{\sharp
\Omega}\lambda_i(\Omega)= \mathrm{tr}(\Delta_{\Omega}) \leq
\sum_{k=K+1}^{\sharp \Omega +K} \frac{2}{2^k+2}\leq
\sum_{k=K+1}^{\infty} \frac{1}{2^{k-1}}=2^{1-K}.
$$ Taking the limit $\Omega\uparrow \Gamma\setminus B(0,K)$
and the limit $K\uparrow\Gamma$ (which corresponds to $K\to
\infty$) on both sides we arrive at
$$\overline{\lambda}^\mathrm{ess}(\Gamma) = \lim_{K\to
\infty} \lim_{\Omega\uparrow\Gamma\setminus B(0,K)}
\lambda_\mathrm{max}(\Omega)\leq 0.
$$ Since $\sigma^\mathrm{ess}(\Gamma) \subset [0,2]$ and
$\sigma^\mathrm{ess}(\Gamma) \neq \emptyset$ it follows that
$\sigma^\mathrm{ess}(\Gamma)= \{0\}$. Together with Theorem
\ref{essential spectrum} this also yields a proof for the
statement $\bar{h}_\infty =h_\infty =0$.
\end{example}
\begin{theo}\label{nonconcen} $\bar{h}_\infty +h_\infty
=1$ if $\Gamma$ is bipartite.
\end{theo}
\begin{proof}
As above one can show that for bipartite graphs Theorem \ref{h and
hbar} implies that $\bar{h}_\infty +h_\infty =1$. This completes
the proof.
\end{proof}
\begin{rem}
In particular, Theorem \ref{essential spectrum}, Theorem
\ref{bottom5} and Theorem \ref{nonconcen} imply that for bipartite
graphs with $h_\infty =0$ (or equivalently $\bar{h}_\infty =1$)
the essential spectrum is not concentrated at all since both $0$
and $2$ are contained in the essential spectrum.
\end{rem}
\begin{figure}\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width =
12cm]{Examplewithloops.pdf}\caption{\label{Fig.4} Counterexample
for Theorem \ref{hbar and h at infinity} if we allow loops in the
graph.}
\end{center}
\end{figure}
We need the following consequence of the spectral theorem, see
\cite{Glazman} Theorem 13 or \cite{Donnelly81} Proposition 2.1:
\begin{theo}\label{essential spectrum intersection}
The interval $[\lambda, \infty)$ intersects the essential spectrum
of a self-adjoint operator $A$ if and only if for all $\epsilon>0$
there exists an infinite dimensional subspace
$\mathcal{H}_\epsilon\subset \mathcal{D}(A)$ of the domain of $A$
such that $(Af - \lambda f + \epsilon f, f)>0$ for all $f\in
\mathcal{H}_\epsilon.$
\end{theo}
\begin{theo}\label{lasts1} Let $2\leq l=\sup_{x\in
V}\frac{\mu(x)}{\mu_{-}(x)}<\infty$, then
$$\sigma^\mathrm{ess}(\Delta) \cap [1 +
\frac{2\sqrt{l-1}}{l}-2\kappa_\infty, 2]\neq \emptyset,$$ where
$\kappa_\infty := \lim_{K\uparrow \Gamma} \kappa(\Gamma\setminus
K)$, $\kappa(\Gamma\setminus K)= \sup_{x_i\in\Gamma\setminus
K}\kappa(x_i,\Gamma\setminus K)$ and $\kappa(x_i,\Gamma\setminus
K) = \sup_{x\in \Gamma\setminus K}\frac{\mu_0(x)}{\mu(x)}$ where
we calculate $\mu_0$ with respect to $x_i$.
\end{theo}
\begin{proof}
Since $2 \leq l=\sup_{x\in V}\frac{\mu(x)}{\mu_{-}(x)}<\infty$ we
have from Theorem \ref{ecpt1} that for all $r\geq 0$
$$\lambda_{\mathrm{max}}(B(x_0,r))\geq
\lambda_{\mathrm{max}}(V_l(r))-2\kappa(x_0,r).$$ Moreover since
$\lim_{r\to\infty}\lambda_{\mathrm{max}}(V_l(r))=
\lambda_{\mathrm{max}}(R_l)$ we know that for all $\epsilon
>0$ there exists a $r(\epsilon)>0$ such that
$$\lambda_{\mathrm{max}}(V_l(r(\epsilon)))>
\lambda_{\mathrm{max}}(R_l)-\epsilon.$$ Thus for sufficiently
large $r(\epsilon)$ we have
$$\lambda_{\mathrm{max}}(B(x_0,r(\epsilon)))>
\lambda_{\mathrm{max}}(R_l)- 2\kappa(x_0,r(\epsilon))-\epsilon.$$
Since $\Gamma\setminus K$ is an infinite graph we can find
infinitely many points $x_i \in \Gamma\setminus K$ such that
$B(x_i,r(\epsilon))\subset \Gamma\setminus K$ are disjoint balls.
Hence there exists infinitely many functions $f_i$ with finite
disjoint support, $\mathrm{supp}f_i\subset
B(x_i,r(\epsilon))\subset \Gamma\setminus K$ such that
$$\frac{(\Delta f_i, f_i)}{(f_i,f_i)}>
\lambda_\mathrm{max}(R_l)-2\kappa(\Gamma\setminus K) - \epsilon =
1 + \frac{2\sqrt{l-1}}{l}- 2\kappa(\Gamma\setminus K)-\epsilon.$$
Taking an exhaustion $K\uparrow\Gamma$ it follows that there
exists an infinite dimensional subspace of $\ell^2(V,\mu)$ such
that
$$(\Delta f - (1 +
\frac{2\sqrt{l-1}}{l})f+ \kappa_\infty f+\epsilon f, f)_\mu
>0.$$
By Theorem \ref{essential spectrum intersection} we conclude that
$$\sigma^\mathrm{ess}(\Delta) \cap [1 +
\frac{2\sqrt{l-1}}{l}-2\kappa_\infty, 2]\neq \emptyset.$$
\end{proof}
From Lemma \ref{kappa and local clustering} we immediately obtain
the following corollary:
\begin{coro}
Let $2\leq l=\sup_{x\in V}\frac{\mu(x)}{\mu_{-}(x)}<\infty$, then
$$\sigma^\mathrm{ess}(\Delta) \cap [1 +
\frac{2\sqrt{l-1}}{l}-2C(\Gamma)_\infty, 2]\neq \emptyset,$$ where
$C(\Gamma)_\infty := \lim_{K\uparrow \Gamma} \sup_{x\in
\Gamma\setminus K}\frac{\sum_{y\in
\mathcal{C}(x)}\mu_{xy}}{\mu(x)}$ and $\mathcal{C}(x)$:= \{$y:
y\sim x$, $x$ and $y$ are both contained in a circuit of odd
length\}.
\end{coro}
\begin{rem}In the special case of unweighted graphs with
vertex degrees uniformly bounded from above by $l$ where $l$ is an
integer, Fujiwara \cite{Fujiwara96} (Theorem $6$) showed that
$\sigma^\mathrm{ess} \cap [1 + \frac{2}{l}, 2]\neq \emptyset$.
Even in the non-optimal case when we restrict ourselves to integer
valued $l$ our results improve the ones by Fujiwara
\cite{Fujiwara96} if $\kappa_\infty \leq \frac{\sqrt{l-1}-1}{l}$.
Moreover, for bipartite graphs Fujiwara obtained
$\sigma^\mathrm{ess}(\Delta) \cap [1 + \frac{2\sqrt{l-1}}{l},
2]\neq \emptyset$. This is a special case of our result since we
obtain the same estimate under the weaker assumption
$\kappa_\infty=0$ and we allow non-integer values for $l$.
\end{rem}
For some fixed reference point $x_0,$ we give the following
definitions which are introduced in \cite{Urakawa00}.
\begin{defi}
For any (possibly infinite) subset $U\subset \Gamma$ we define
$$M_{-}(x_0,U):=\sup_{x\in U}\frac{\mu_{-}(x)}{\mu(x)},$$
\begin{equation}\label{defn1}M_{-,\infty}(x_0,\Gamma):=\lim_{K\uparrow\Gamma}M_{-}(x_0,\Gamma\backslash K),\end{equation} and
$$\kappa(x_0,U):=\sup_{x\in U}\frac{\mu_{0}(x)}{\mu(x)},$$
\begin{equation}\label{defn3}\kappa_{\infty}(x_0,\Gamma):=\lim_{K\uparrow\Gamma}\kappa(x_0,\Gamma\backslash K).\end{equation}
\end{defi}
For the decomposition principle (Theorem \ref{decomposition
theorem}) we immediately obtain the following:
\begin{lemma}\label{MoharT} Let $\Gamma$ be an infinite graph and
$\Gamma^\prime$ be the graph obtained from $\Gamma$ by adding or
deleting finitely many edges. Then
$\sigma^\mathrm{ess}(\Delta(\Gamma))=
\sigma^\mathrm{ess}(\Delta(\Gamma^\prime))$.
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}
Since we only change finitely many edges, there exists a finite
subgraph $K\subset \Gamma$ and a finite subgraph $K^\prime \subset
\Gamma^\prime$ such that $\Gamma\setminus K = \Gamma^\prime
\setminus K^\prime$. Thus by the last theorem the essential
spectra of $\Delta(\Gamma)$ and $\Delta(\Gamma^\prime)$ coincide.
\end{proof}A similar result to Lemma \ref{MoharT} was obtained by Mohar \cite{Mohar82} for the adjacency operator.
By using Lemma \ref{MoharT}, we obtain the following estimates for
the essential spectra of graphs in terms of
$M_{-,\infty}(x_0,\Gamma)$ and $\kappa_{\infty}(x_0, \Gamma)$.
\begin{theo}\label{ees1}
Let $\Gamma$ be an infinite graph. Then
\begin{equation}\label{estim2}
\underline{\lambda}^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma)\geq
1-\frac{2\sqrt{l-1}}{l}-\kappa_{\infty}(x_0,\Gamma),
\end{equation}
\begin{equation}
\bar{\lambda}^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma)\leq
1+\frac{2\sqrt{l-1}}{l}+\kappa_{\infty}(x_0,\Gamma),
\end{equation} where $l= (M_{-,\infty}(x_0, \Gamma))^{-1}$ and
$x_0$ is an arbitrary vertex in $\Gamma$.
\end{theo}
\begin{proof}
Since it is well known \cite{Fujiwara96b,DodziukKarp} that
$\underline{\lambda}^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma)+\bar{\lambda}^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma)\leq
2,$ it suffices to show \eqref{estim2}. By the definitions of
$M_{-,\infty}(x_0, \Gamma)$ and $\kappa_{\infty}(x_0,\Gamma),$
\eqref{defn1} and \eqref{defn3}, for any $\epsilon>0,$ there
exists $r_0>0$ such that
\begin{equation}\label{estim5}M_{-,\infty}(x_0, \Gamma)\leq M_{-}(x_0,\Gamma\backslash B(x_0,r_0))\leq M_{-,\infty}(x_0, \Gamma)+\epsilon\end{equation} and
\begin{equation}\label{estim10}\kappa_{\infty}(x_0, \Gamma)\leq \kappa(x_0, \Gamma\backslash B(x_0,r_0))\leq \kappa_{\infty}(x_0, \Gamma)+\epsilon.\end{equation}
Let $\Gamma\backslash
B(x_0,r_0)=\Gamma_1\cup\Gamma_2\cup\cdots\cup\Gamma_k$ where
$\Gamma_i$ ($1\leq i\leq k$) are the connected components of
$\Gamma\backslash B(x_0,r_0).$ Then by Lemma \ref{MoharT},
$$\sigma^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma)=\sigma^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma\backslash B(x_0,r_0))=\cup_{i=1}^k\sigma^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma_i).$$
We want to use Corollary \ref{Lowercomp1} to estimate
$\sigma^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma_i).$ But the reference point $x_0$
is not contained in $\Gamma_i$ and thus
$\frac{\mu_{-}(x)}{\mu(x)}$ and $\frac{\mu_{0}(x)}{\mu(x)}$ will
change if we choose some reference point in $\Gamma_i$. In the
following, we add a new reference point to each $\Gamma_i$ which
preserves the quantities $\frac{\mu_{-}(x)}{\mu(x)}$ and
$\frac{\mu_{0}(x)}{\mu(x)}$.
We add a new vertex $p_i$ to each $\Gamma_i$ and let
$\Gamma_i'=\Gamma_i\cup\{p_i\}.$ For each $z\in \Gamma_i$ with
$d(z,x_0)=r_0+1,$ i.e. $z\in S_{r_0+1}(x_0)\cap \Gamma_i,$ we add
an new edge $zp_i$ in $\Gamma_i'$ with the edge weight
$\mu_{zp_i}=|E(z,B(x_0,r_0))|,$ that is, we identify the ball
$B(x_0,r_0)$ as a new vertex $p_i$ and preserve the edge between
$\Gamma_i$ and $B(x_0,r_0).$ Other edges in $\Gamma_i$ remain
unchanged in $\Gamma_i'$. Then by this construction, for any
$x\in\Gamma_i\subset\Gamma_i'$ the quantities
$\frac{\mu_{-}(x)}{\mu(x)}$ and $\frac{\mu_{0}(x)}{\mu(x)}$ w.r.t.
$x_0$ in $\Gamma$ are the same as those w.r.t. $p_i$ in
$\Gamma_i^\prime.$ Then
\begin{equation}\label{estim6}
M_{-}(p_i, \Gamma_i')=M_{-}(x_0, \Gamma_i),\ \kappa(p_i,
\Gamma_i')=\kappa(x_0, \Gamma_i)\end{equation} since
$\frac{\mu_{-}(p_i)}{\mu(p_i)}=\frac{\mu_{0}(p_i)}{\mu(p_i)}=0$
w.r.t. $p_i$ in $\Gamma_i'.$ Hence by \eqref{estim1} in Corollary
\ref{Lowercomp1} (letting $r\rightarrow\infty$), we have
\begin{equation}\label{estim7}\underline{\lambda}(\Gamma_i')\geq 1-\frac{2\sqrt{( M_{-}(p_i, \Gamma_i'))^{-1}-1}}{( M_{-}(p_i, \Gamma_i'))^{-1}}-\kappa(p_i, \Gamma_i').\end{equation}
Since $\sigma^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma_i')\subset\sigma(\Gamma_i'),$
\begin{equation}\label{estim8}\underline{\lambda}^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma_i')\geq
\underline{\lambda}(\Gamma_i').\end{equation} Hence
\begin{eqnarray*}
\underline{\lambda}^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma)&=&\min_{1\leq i\leq k}\underline{\lambda}^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma_i)\\
&=&\min_{1\leq i\leq k}\underline{\lambda}^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma_i')\\
&\geq&\min_{1\leq i\leq k}\left\{1-\frac{2\sqrt{( M_{-}(p_i, \Gamma_i'))^{-1}-1}}{( M_{-}(p_i, \Gamma_i'))^{-1}}-\kappa(p_i, \Gamma_i')\right\}\\
&\geq&1-\frac{2\sqrt{( M_{-,\infty}(x_0,
\Gamma)+\epsilon)^{-1}-1}}{( M_{-,\infty}(x_0,
\Gamma)+\epsilon)^{-1}}-\kappa_{x_0, \infty}(\Gamma)-\epsilon,
\end{eqnarray*} where we use Lemma \ref{MoharT}, \eqref{estim5}, \eqref{estim10}, \eqref{estim6}, \eqref{estim7} and \eqref{estim8}.
Let $\epsilon\rightarrow 0,$ we prove the theorem.
\end{proof}
Theorem \ref{ees1} yields a more general sufficient condition for
the concentration of the essential spectrum than Theorem 5.4 in
\cite{Urakawa99}. It is a special case of a class of graphs with
concentrated essential spectrum discovered by Higuchi, see
\cite{Fujiwara96}.
\begin{coro}\label{lasts2}
Let $\Gamma$ be an infinite graph. If $M_{-,\infty}(x_0,
\Gamma)=0$ and $\kappa_{\infty}(x_0, \Gamma)=0,$ then
$\sigma^{\mathrm{ess}}(\Gamma)=\{1\}.$
\end{coro}
\textbf{Acknowledgement:} We thank Shiping Liu for his careful
proofreading of our paper.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaArXiv"
}
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Morro Bay Harbor is easily identified by the 581-foot high dome of Morro Rock that sits just north of the harbor entrance. While the waters of Morro Bay and the surrounding ocean areas of Estero Bay and beyond are beautiful and bountiful, they can also be unforgiving and deadly. Preparation, planning, and proper equipment are keys to safely enjoying the area.
Before starting a trip, always check weather forecasts and sea conditions. Detailed information can be obtained by checking online, tuning into NOAA weather radio broadcasts, and reading about it in the local newspapers.
The harbor entrance, one of the roughest on the West Coast, has a Hazardous Bar Warning posted up to 40 days a year because of high swells and poor conditions. The Coast Guard is responsible for posting the hazardous bar warning. Boaters, regardless of experience, should exercise extreme caution and should check with the Harbor Patrol or Coast Guard before leaving the harbor.
All boats should be properly equipped for a voyage at sea. This means not only the legally required minimum safety gear, but other prudent gear as well. In all cases, boat operators are reminded that they are responsible for the safe operation and navigation of their own vessels.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
}
| 1,071
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\section{Introduction}
Quantum Computing (QC) presents a new computational paradigm that has the potential to address classically intractable problems with much higher efficiency and speed.
It has been shown to have an exponential or polynomial advantage in various domains such as combinatorial optimization~\cite{farhi2014quantum}, molecular dynamics~\cite{peruzzo2014variational, liang2022pan}, and machine learning~\cite{biamonte2017quantum, rebentrost2014quantum, liang2021can,liang2022variational,jiang2021co, cheng2020accqoc,hu2022quantum, wang2021exploration}, {etc.}\xspace
By virtue of breakthroughs in physical implementation technologies, QC hardware has advanced quickly during the last two decades. Multiple QC systems with up to 127 qubits have been released recently~\cite{ibm127, rigetti, google72, intel49}.
\input{figtex/teaser}
Despite the promising developments, it is still anticipated that before we enter the fault-tolerant era, we will spend a number of years in the Noisy Intermediate Scale Quantum (NISQ\xspace)~\cite{preskill2018quantum} stage. In this stage, the qubits and quantum gates suffer from significant error (around $10^{-3}$), which is the bottleneck towards quantum advantages. Therefore, Parameterized Quantum Circuits (PQC) have attracted increasingly more attention thanks to their flexibility in the circuit architecture (ansatz) and parameters that provides vast space for noise mitigation and optimizations.
To facilitate the robust quantum circuits, especially parameterized quantum circuits for quantum machine learning, the TorchQuantum\xspace library is released, which supports easy construction, simulation, and fast parameter training of PQCs. Several noise mitigation techniques, such as noise-aware ansatz search~\cite{wang2022quantumnas}, noise-aware parameter training~\cite{wang2021roqnn}, gradient pruning for robust on-chip training~\cite{wang2022chip}, are also supported in the library.
Although plenty of work has been focusing on quantum for machine learning with parameterized circuits, little research explores another direction -- using machine learning to solve quantum system research problems. To fill this vacancy, the TorchQuantum\xspace library also provides multiple classical machine learning models to perform quantum compilation, reliability estimation tasks, {etc.}\xspace
\input{figtex/fid_pst}
In this paper, we show one case study of machine learning for quantum -- using graph transformer models to estimate the quantum circuit fidelity under noise impact, as shown in Figure~\ref{fig:teaser}. Due to the limited quantum resources, it is highly desirable to estimate the circuit performance before submitting it for execution. If the fidelity of a circuit is lower than a threshold, running it on real quantum machines will not generate any meaningful result. One straightforward method is to perform circuit simulation on noisy simulators, but the exponentially increasing cost is prohibitive for circuits with many qubits. Therefore, in this work, we propose a polynomial complexity method in which a data-driven graph transformer is trained to perform fidelity estimation. Intuitively, estimating the fidelity does not require precisely computing the complete density matrix. So there are opportunities that the data-driven method can provide accurate enough estimation with low computation costs. In fact, there have been works on predicting circuit reliability using simple machine learning models~\cite{9251243}. However, it considers neither any graph information of the circuit nor the noise information and thus has less accurate predictions in experimental results.
The first step of the framework is to collect a large dataset containing various randomly generated circuits and circuits from common quantum algorithms. We run the circuits on both noisy simulators and real quantum machines. On simulators, we change the properties of the qubits, such as T1 and T2, and the error rates of gates to diversify the data samples. The dataset contains over 20 thousand samples on simulators and 25 thousand samples on real quantum machines. In order to reduce the overhead of collecting a dataset, we use the ``Probability of Successful Trials" (PST)~\cite{tannu2019not} as the proxy for the fidelity following the setting in~\cite{9251243}. Specifically, for each circuit, we will concatenate the inverse of the circuit to the original one and execute. Since the original quantum state is all zero, the ground truth output of the concatenated circuit will still be all zero. Therefore, the PST will be the frequency of getting all zero bit-string.
The dataset is embedded in the TorchQuantum\xspace library and can be easily accessed for future studies.
Secondly, motivated by the fact that \textit{quantum circuits are graphs}, we propose to leverage a graph transformer to process the circuit information. The nodes of the graph are the quantum gates, input qubits, and measurements. The edges are determined by the sequence of gate executions. The feature vector on each node contains gate type, qubit index, qubit T1, T2 time, gate error rate, {etc.}\xspace, to capture operation and noise information. In one layer of the graph transformer, the attention layer will capture the correlations between each node and its neighbors according to the graph and compute the updated feature vector. Several fully-connected layers are appended at the end to regress the circuit PST.
Overall, we present a case study on using graph transformer models in the TorchQuantum\xspace library to estimate circuit fidelity under noise. The contributions are summarized as below:
\begin{itemize}
\item \textbf{A dataset for circuit fidelity} on various noisy simulators and real machines is presented and embedded in the TorchQuantum\xspace library to facilitate research on reliability estimations. It contains 20K simulation samples and 25K real machine samples.
\item \textbf{A graph transformer model} is constructed and trained to process the quantum circuit graph and feature vectors on nodes to provide accurate fidelity prediction.
\item \textbf{Extensive evaluations} on around 2 thousand circuits on noisy simulators and 3 thousand circuits on real machines demonstrate the high accuracy of the predictor. It achieves \textbf{0.04} RMSE and over \textbf{0.95} R$^2$ scores with \textbf{200$\times$\xspace} speedup over circuit simulators.
\end{itemize}
\section{Related Work}
\subsection{Quantum Basics}
A quantum bit (qubit) can be in a linear combination of the two basis states 0 and 1, in contrast to a classical bit, $\ket{\psi} = \alpha\ket{0} + \beta\ket{1},$ for $\alpha,\beta\in\mathbb{C},$ where $|\alpha|^2+|\beta|^2=1$. Only one of the $2^n$ states can be stored in a classical $n$-bit register.
However, we can employ an $n$-qubit system to describe a linear combination of $2^n$ basis states due to the ability to build a superposition of basis states. To perform computation on a quantum system, we use a \textit{quantum circuit} to manipulate the state of qubits. A given quantum system can be expressed as a Hamiltonian function and solved by Schr{\"o}dinger's equation, and these operational steps can be performed by various \textit{quantum gates}.
Results of a quantum circuit are obtained by qubit readout operations called \textit{measurements}, which collapse a qubit state $\ket{\psi}$ to either $\ket{0}$ or $\ket{1}$ probabilistically according to the amplitudes $\alpha$ and $\beta$.
\input{figtex/dataset_generation}
\subsection{Quantum Errors}
Quantum errors are one of the most significant challenges that NISQ-era quantum computing experiences. On real quantum machines,
errors occur because of the interactions between qubits and the environment, control errors, and interference from the environment \cite{krantz2019quantum, bruzewicz2019trapped, magesan2012characterizing}. Qubits undergo \textit{decoherence error} over time, and quantum gates introduce \textit{operation errors} (such as coherent/stochastic errors) into the system.
These systems need to be characterized~\cite{magesan2012characterizing} and calibrated~\cite{ibm_2021} frequently to mitigate the quantum noise impacts.
The errors seriously interfere with the function of quantum circuits and form obstacles to further optimization of quantum circuits. A number of noise mitigation techniques have been developed to attenuate negative effects~\cite{das2022afs, wang2022quantumnas, wang2021roqnn, liang2021can, hua2021autobraid, ravi2022vaqem, krinner2022realizing, cheng2022topgen}.~\cite{wang2021roqnn} proposes a framework to improve the quantum circuits' robustness by making them aware of noise. It consists of three main techniques: injection of gate errors, regularization, and normalization of measurement outcomes. Another literature~\cite{liang2021can} integrates the gate error characteristics into the mapped quantum circuit to improve robustness.
\subsection{Fidelity Estimation and Prediction}
In order to validate and characterize the states generated by a quantum computer, it is crucial to estimate the fidelity of quantum states~\cite{wang2021quantum,gilyen2022improved}.
However, calculating fidelities is already quite computationally expensive.
Numerous efforts have been made to address this problem in the past few years.
Variational quantum algorithms have been adopted by recent works to perform fidelity estimation~\cite{chen2021variational,tan2021variational,cerezo2020variational}.
Machine learning-based and statistical methods are also proposed to estimate the fidelity~\cite{zhang2021direct,yu2022statistical,9251243}.
In addition, ``classical shadow'' is proposed for more efficient tomography~\cite{huang2020predicting}, which can also benefit fidelity estimation.
The works mentioned above present various methods for estimating fidelity.
Fewer works, however, have focused on predicting fidelity given a quantum circuit and a noisy backend.
~\cite{9251243} derives a fidelity prediction model using polynomial fitting and a shallow neural network.
The noisy backend is considered as a black box in that work.
~\cite{nishio2020extracting,tannu2019ensemble} calculate fidelity with a simple equation and use it as a metric to optimize the compilation workflow.
These methods are inaccurate and do not account for the structure of quantum circuits or noisy backends.
\subsection{Randomized Benchmarking}
Plenty of techniques have been developed to estimate the fidelity of quantum circuits and identify errors in NISQ\xspace computers, and they can provide indicators of the quality of quantum circuits and directions for further improvement of quantum hardware. Among them, randomized benchmarking is the most prominent~\cite{knill2008randomized,magesan2011scalable,magesan2012characterizing} one. Randomized benchmarking can estimate the fidelity of certain gates or circuits and further characterize noises to very high accuracy in the presence of state preparation and measurement errors. However, randomized benchmarking has several limitations. For example, it usually requires strong assumptions about the error pattern, such as assuming the errors are gate-independent, and the benchmarked gate set must have group structures.
\subsection{Transformers}
The attention~\cite{bahdanau2014neural, NIPS2017_3f5ee243} based Transformer models~\cite{wang2021spatten, wang2020efficient} have prevailed in sequence modeling. Recently, it is also widely applied in other domains such as vision transformer~\cite{dosovitskiy2020image} for computer vision and graph transformer (graph attention networks) ~\cite{velivckovic2017graph, yun2019graph, 9218757, wang2018learning} for graph learning. The graph transformer leverages the attention mechanism to generate the updated features of the next layer for each node. The Query vectors come from the center node, while the Key and Value vectors are calculated from the neighboring nodes. Recently, several variants of traditional transformers have been proposed, including AGNN, which removes all the FC linear layers in the model~\cite{thekumparampil2018attention}, Modified-GAT~\cite{ryu2018deeply}, which proposes gate-augmented attention for better feature extraction, Linear Attention~\cite{shen2021efficient}, which reduces the complexity of attention to linear cost, and Hardware-Aware Transformer~\cite{wang2020hat} that adjusts the architecture according to the hardware latency feedback.
\section{Circuit Fidelity Dataset}
In classical computing, training datasets must be fed into the machine learning algorithms before validation datasets (or testing datasets) can be employed to validate the model's interpretation of the input data.
However, when dealing with the fidelity prediction problem, we do not have an off-the-shelf dataset that can be used to train and evaluate different methods.
To address this problem, we present a scheme for generating datasets and incorporating the gathered datasets into TorchQuantum\xspace in order to provide relevant researchers with appropriate starting points.
\subsection{Metrics}
\label{metrics}
In order to accurately estimate the ``success rate'' of quantum circuits on noisy devices, the conception of fidelity is introduced, which is a measure of the ``closeness'' of two quantum states.
In noisy quantum computing, fidelity is adopted to illustrate the difference between the quantum states generated by noisy devices and those generated by noiseless classical simulations.
Obtaining the fidelity of quantum circuits is, however, computationally costly -- exponential to the qubit number.
Intricate tomography would be required to ``restore'' or ``describe'' quantum states\cite{huang2020predicting}.
To solve such a problem, we adopt the idea of ``Probability of Successful Trials" (PST)~\cite{tannu2019not} as the proxy of fidelity.
$$PST = \frac{\# Trials\ with\ output\ same\ as\ initial\ state}{\#Total\ trials}$$
Instead of measuring the fidelity of quantum circuits, we count the proportion of unchanged qubits (all zeros) after concatenating the circuits with their inverse.
For concatenated circuits, the proportion will be one if we conduct simulations on a noise-free simulator.
We compare the PST with fidelity for 1400 quantum circuits on simulators.
As shown in Figure~\ref{fig:fid_pst}, they exhibit a strong correlation with a Spearman correlation coefficient of 0.993.
Therefore, we can conclude that PST can provide accurate fidelity estimations.
\input{figtex/profiling}
\subsection{Dataset Generation}
\label{data_gen}
As shown in Figure~\ref{fig:dataset_generation}, the generation of random datasets can be broken down into three major steps: initial random circuit generation, concatenation with inverse circuits, and PST calculation.
\textbf{Native Circuit Construction.}
In the first step, random gates are generated from the basis gate set \{\texttt{RZ}\xspace, \texttt{SX}, \texttt{X}, \texttt{CNOT}\} and assigned to quantum circuits to create an initial version of random circuits.
Single-qubit gates are assigned to all possible qubits, and two-qubit gates are assigned to all available connections in the quantum device.
After finishing the assignments, the circuits will be compiled to eliminate duplicated gates.
As a result, we consider the number of qubits and gates, the coupling map of quantum devices, and the number of random circuits as parameters during the random circuits generation process.
\textbf{Concatenation of Inverse Circuit.}
Furthermore, the obtained random circuits will be concatenated with their inverse. The inverse circuit is obtained by reversing the gate sequence of the original circuit and replacing each gate with its inverse gate, as shown in Figure~\ref{fig:dataset_generation} middle.
The purpose of concatenation is to use PST rather than fidelity as our metrics, thereby allowing us to avoid the computationally expensive state tomography.
The detailed reasons are elaborated on in the Section~\ref{metrics}.
For example, assuming a circuit consisting of a \texttt{CNOT}\xspace gate and an \texttt{X}\xspace gate,
after concatenation, the circuit will be ``\texttt{CNOT}\xspace + \texttt{X}\xspace + barrier + \texttt{X}\xspace + \texttt{CNOT}\xspace''.
A barrier is placed to prevent gate cancellation.
The concatenated circuits will be sent to the backends to obtain PSTs.
Note that the dataset only contains the original circuits \textit{without} concatenation.
As a result, if we need to evaluate a new quantum circuit, we will feed it to the ML predictor. Then the predicted PST for the concatenated circuit will be returned by the ML model, which is highly correlated with the circuit's fidelity.
\textbf{PST Calculation.}
The concatenated circuits will then be passed to noisy backends to calculate the PST.
We begin with the default initial state $|00....0\rangle$, and the PST represents the proportion of $|00....0\rangle$ in the output distribution.
Our prediction model takes into account the information from both quantum circuits and noisy backends.
As a result, the quantum circuits are simulated on backends with differing noise levels to create our datasets.
The backends' noise configurations are derived from real NISQ machines, with random constants to change the noise levels.
\input{figtex/gt}
\subsection{Dataset Properties}
Figure~\ref{fig:profiling} depicts the relationships between PST and various circuit and backend properties.
We can anticipate a lower PST as the number of gates increases.
The PST numbers are also influenced by the number of \texttt{CNOT}\xspace gates, circuit depth, and noise level.
To cover these dimensions, we create random datasets with varying numbers of qubits, gates, and backends of different noise levels.
The PSTs of these circuits are simulated on backends with five different noise levels.
As a result, the random circuits datasets contain 10000 data points on noisy simulators.
We also measure the PSTs of these circuits from five different real NISQ machines. The dataset on real machines contains around 25000 data points.
The performance of our graph transformer model on random circuits is demonstrated in Figure~\ref{fig:scatters}.
In addition, our datasets include circuits used in quantum algorithms such as quantum error correction~\cite{lidar2013quantum}, variational quantum eigensolver~\cite{kandala2017hardware}, Grover search~\cite{grover1996fast}, quantum fourier transform~\cite{coppersmith2002approximate}, quantum approximate optimization algorithm~\cite{farhi2014quantum} and quantum teleportation~\cite{bennett1993teleporting}.
We select a total of 30 circuits derived from quantum algorithms.
The simulations are also carried out on noisy simulators with varying noise levels to collect data points.
The performance of our graph transformer model on these circuits is demonstrated in Figure~\ref{fig:tranditional_scatters}.
\section{Predictor}
The dataset introduced in the previous section enables a data-driven approach to learning the PST from circuit and noise features. This section will continue to present a case study of a deep learning model, graph transformer, for circuit PST prediction. Figure~\ref{fig:gt} shows the overview of the framework. A gate graph is firstly extracted from the circuit. Then the node features are generated according to the gate type, noise information, etc. Next, a graph transformer containing attention operations is introduced to process the node features and neighboring relations. Finally, a PST regression layer outputs the predicted values.
\input{figtex/feature_vector}
\input{figtex/scatters}
\subsection{Graph Construction}
We firstly use directed acyclic graphs (DAG) to represent the topology of quantum circuits. Each node represents one qubit, quantum gate, or measurement. Edges represent the time-dependent order of different gates. One example of extracting the graph from the circuit is presented on the left of Figure~\ref{fig:gt}. The connectivity can be encoded into an adjacent matrix. With the TorchQuantum\xspace framework, the DAG can be conveniently converted from the circuit.
\subsection{Node Features}
For each node in the graph, we generate a vector representing the features. The features include gate type, target qubit index, T1 and T2 of the target qubit, gate error, and gate index, as shown in Figure~\ref{fig:feature_vector}. In our experiments, we set the maximum qubit number to $10$, and the feature vector has a length of $24$. The first $6$ numbers are one-hot vectors describing the gate type: initial input qubit, measurement, \texttt{RZ}\xspace, \texttt{X}, \texttt{SX}, or \texttt{CNOT}. Then we use $10$ numbers to describe the target gate qubit(s). If this gate acts on the $i^\mathrm{th}$ qubit, the $i^\mathrm{th}$ number of the vector is set to $1$ and otherwise $0$. That also applies to multi-qubit gates. Then we use the following $7$ numbers to describe the calibration information of the backend with the following format: [T1, T2 for the first target qubit, T1, T2 for the second target qubit, gate error rate, readout error10, readout error01]. If a feature is not applicable for a particular node, the corresponding value is set to $0$. For example, \texttt{RZ}\xspace acts on only one qubit, so T1 and T2 for the second target qubit are set to $0$. Since \texttt{RZ}\xspace is not a measurement, readout error10 and readout error01 are set to $0$ also. The last number is used to encode the index of the node. The whole featur vector is illustrated in Figure~\ref{fig:feature_vector}.
\subsection{Graph Transformer}
To process graphs with node features, we propose to use a graph transformer as shown in Figure~\ref{fig:gt} right. The transformer contains multiple layers, each containing the attention operation. The attention is described in Algorithm~\ref{algo:attention}. the Query, Key, and Value vectors for each node are computed with shared weights. Then for one node, we fetch the Key vectors of its neighboring nodes and compute Query $\times$ Key$^T$. The outputs are attention scores which are then normalized according to the square root of the number of neighbors. Softmax is adopted to normalize the attention scores. The output is called attention probability because the values add up to one. The probability vector is then employed as weights to perform a weighted sum of the Value vectors of the neighboring nodes. The output has the same dimension as the input feature of the center node. After that, we perform a residual connection between input and output of attention with a layer normalization. The output will be the feature vector of the next layer. Note that computations on all nodes are done \textit{simultaneously.}
After multiple transformer layers, we obtain a learned feature on each node, with its neighbors influenced. If deep enough, each node can access to features of all nodes in the graph. Finally, we perform a global average pooling of the node features and obtain an aggregated node feature vector. Then a regressor with three FC layers is appended to output the final regressed PST. Besides node feature, we also leverage \textit{global features}, representing the circuit depth, width, and counts of \texttt{RZ}\xspace, \texttt{X}, \texttt{SX}, and \texttt{CNOT}\xspace gates. The global feature vector is concatenated with the aggregated node feature vector and fed to the regressor.
The computational complexity of the proposed graph transformer is polynomial to qubit number since the overall number of gates is typically polynomial to qubit number.
\section{Evaluation}
\subsection{Evaluation Methodology}
\input{figtex/tranditional_scatters}
\input{figtex/curves}
\textbf{Model and Training Setups.}
In the default setup, we use two layers of graph transformers. The embedding dimension is $24$ since we have 24 features. The dimension for the Query, Key, and Value vectors is also $24$. We use single-head attention layers. The global average pooling across nodes generates a single $24$ dimensional vector as the aggregated feature for a circuit. If global features are enabled, we use two FC layers with hidden and output dimensions of $12$ to pre-process and concatenate it with the aggregated node feature. The concatenated feature is processed with additional three FC layers with hidden dimension $128$ and output dimension $1$. This output is treated as the predicted PST value. We use ReLU activation.
We normalize the node features across the dataset by removing the mean and dividing the standard deviation. We then train the models with Adam optimizer for $500$ epochs with a constant learning rate of $10^{-2}$, weight decay $10^{-4}$, batch size $2500$ and MSE loss. Then we choose the model that performs best on the validation set to test on the test set.
\input{tables/ablation_global_feature}
\input{figtex/histo}
\textbf{Dataset Setup.}
For noisy simulators datasets, we have 10000 random circuits and 350 circuits for 30 quantum algorithms each. For real machine datasets, we collect 5000, 5000, 5450, 2750, and 6750 random circuits for IBM Geneva, IBM Hanoi, IBM Montreal, IBM Mumbai, and IBM Toronto, respectively. We split the dataset into three parts, the training set includes $70\%$ data, the validation set includes $20\%$ data, and the test set consists of the last $10\%$.
\subsection{Experimental Results}
Figure~\ref{fig:scatters} shows the scatter plots of transformer predicted PST vs.\xspace the ground truth PST for randomly generated circuits on the test set. The red dash line is the $y=x$ line. We train one separate model for each of the backend settings. For results on noisy simulators, the points are close to the $y=x$ line with an R$^2$ value of 0.991. On real machines, the difficulty is greater than on noisy simulators. Although the predictor R$^2$ is lower than noisy simulators, they are still higher than 0.95. Furthermore, as in Figure~\ref{fig:tranditional_scatters}, we select 30 representative quantum algorithms as benchmarks and show the scatter plots for predicted PST on the test set. Each color represents one algorithm circuit under different noise models. We train one common model for the 30 algorithm circuits. The transformer model can effectively track the PST value, especially for those spanning a wide range of PST. The overall R$^2$ for 30 benchmarks is 0.9985. We also show the two representative training curves on noisy simulators and the real quantum machine IBM Hanoi in Figure~\ref{fig:curves}. The training loss converges after around 200 steps. The convergence speed on real machine data is slightly slower than the noisy simulator data and has a higher final RMSE (around 0.05).
Besides, we also compare our transformer-based model with the simple NN model adapted from~\cite{9251243} as in Figure~\ref{fig:histo}. The simple NN model only takes 116 features as input, which include circuit depth, width, and counts of \texttt{RZ}\xspace, \texttt{X}, \texttt{SX}, and \texttt{CNOT}\xspace gates, single-qubit gate counts on each qubit, and two-qubit gate counts on each qubit pair. It uses $3$ FC layers with hidden dimension 128 and ReLU activation to regress the PST. We compare the RMSE on the test set for random circuits on 6 benchmarks and 30 algorithm circuits on noisy simulators. On average, the RMSE of the transformer model is 0.02 better than the simple NN model. On the algorithm circuit, the gap is even more apparent -- up to 0.05. The R$^2$ on algorithm circuits with transformer is also much higher than simple NN (0.9985 vs.\xspace 0.9110). That shows the effectiveness of involving circuit graph information in the model.
\input{tables/ablation_feature}
\subsection{Analysis}
In Table~\ref{tab:rmse_vs_global_feature}, we show the effectiveness of concatenating the global features to the aggregated node features. Adding global features can reduce the RMSE loss on the test set with negligible computational overhead. The effectiveness is especially significant in IBM Geneva, where the RMSE is reduced by around 0.003.
Table~\ref{tab:rmse_vs_feature} further performs an ablation study on the importance of each feature in the node feature vectors. We remove one feature while keeping all other features in each experiment and then train the model again to obtain the results and report the RMSE loss on the test set. The bold values mark the largest two losses when removing different features. We can see that removing `Qubit Index' severely degrades the accuracy in all three backends. This may be because the qubit index helps the transformer model know the location of the gate. Removing `Gate Type' also has a substantial negative impact since the model will not know the node type. We also observe that removing some features even improves the accuracy. This only happens on the real machine backend and maybe because of the large fluctuations of noise on the real backend.
\input{tables/ablation_layer}
\input{tables/ablation_shot}
Table~\ref{tab:rmse_vs_layer} shows the relationship between the number of transformer layers with the prediction performance. We find that different model sizes do not greatly impact accuracy. On the noisy simulator and IBM Hanoi datasets, the one-layer model slightly outperforms the others, while on the IBM Geneva dataset, the three-layer model is the best. Therefore, in most of our experiments, we use a two-layer model as a trade-off.
Furthermore, we show the performance differences under different numbers of shots in noisy simulators as in Table~\ref{tab:rmse_vs_shot}. As the shots increase, the precision of the ground truth PST in the training set will be improved and will converge to the true PST when the shots are infinity. However, counter-intuitively, we find that increasing shot number does not guarantee better model accuracy.
Finally, besides theoretical proof of lower computation complexity of our model, we also perform empirical runtime comparisons as shown in Table~\ref{tab:runtime}. We run both the circuit simulator and the graph transformer on an Nvidia 3090 GPU with 24GB memory for 1000 sampled circuits from the random circuit dataset, and report average runtime. We select batch size 1 or 10 for the graph transformer predictor. The predictor achieves 200$\times$\xspace and 1.7K$\times$\xspace speedup over classical simulators to obtain the PST for batch size 1 and 10, respectively. That demonstrates the much higher efficiency of our graph transformer-based predictor.
\input{tables/runtime}
\section{Conclusion}
Using machine learning to optimize quantum system problems is promising. This paper presents a case study of the ML for Quantum part of TorchQuantum\xspace library.
We are inspired by that \textit{a quantum circuit is a graph} and propose to leverage a \textit{graph transformer} model to predict the circuit fidelity under the influence of quantum noise.
First, we collect a large dataset of randomly generated circuits and algorithm circuits, and measure their fidelity on simulators and real machines.
A graph with feature vectors for each node is constructed according to the circuit. The graph transformer processes the circuit graph and calculates the anticipated fidelity value for the circuit.
Instead of the exponential cost of performing whole circuit simulations, we can effectively evaluate the fidelity under polynomial complexity. The datasets and models have been integrated into the TorchQuantum\xspace library, and we hope they can accelerate research in the ML and Quantum field.
\section*{Acknowledgment}
We thank National Science Foundation, MIT-IBM Watson AI Lab, and Qualcomm Innovation Fellowship for supporting this research. This work is funded in part by EPiQC, an NSF Expedition in Computing, under grants CCF-1730082/1730449; in part by STAQ under grant NSF Phy-1818914; in part by DOE grants DE-SC0020289 and DE-SC0020331; and in part by NSF OMA-2016136 and the Q-NEXT DOE NQI Center. We acknowledge the use of IBM Quantum services for this work.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaArXiv"
}
| 4,448
|
{"url":"http:\/\/www.gamedev.net\/topic\/632538-dxviewer-as-child-window\/","text":"\u2022 Create Account\n\nDxViewer as child window\n\nOld topic!\n\nGuest, the last post of this topic is over 60 days old and at this point you may not reply in this topic. If you wish to continue this conversation start a new topic.\n\n4 replies to this topic\n\n#1NestyIvan\u00a0\u00a0Members\n\n111\nLike\n0Likes\nLike\n\nPosted 09 October 2012 - 11:19 AM\n\nHello everyone!\n\nI've met some trouble with DxViewer programm that is contained at the DX SDK(I'm using 2007). What do I want is to run DxViewer as a child inside my own WinAPI window. I've googled so much but yet I didn't found anything helpful.\n\n1. I compiled DxViewer from SDK as DLL.\n2. Created my own project and included that DLL to it. I've declared main function of DxViewer as extern with additional parameter - HWND hwnd (handle to my own window)\n3. FIrstable, my project failed on CreateMainDialog function. So I've commented code that creating dialog handle and send to STATE_SET handle to my window:\nbool App::CreateMainDialog( HWND hparent)\n{\nSTATE_SET(Dialog, hparent);\nreturn true;\n}\n\nActually, I think that here is the root of my problems, but DxViewer has runned inside my window.\n4. Error occures when I try to open a model \".x\". Function FindResource that is calling in SASCreateEffectFromResource return NULL and after that pfogramm is falling.\nRESULT WINAPI\nSASCreateEffectFromResource(\nLPDIRECT3DDEVICE9\t\t\t pDevice,\nHMODULE\t module,\nLPCWSTR\t resName,\nLPCWSTR\t resType,\nCONST D3DXMACRO*\t\t\t\tpDefines,\nLPD3DXINCLUDE\t\t\t\t pInclude,\nDWORD\t\t\t\t\t\t Flags,\nLPD3DXEFFECTPOOL\t\t\t\tpPool,\nLPD3DXEFFECT*\t\t\t\t ppEffect,\nLPD3DXBUFFER*\t\t\t\t ppCompilationErrors)\n{\nHRESULT hr = S_OK;\nHRSRC hSrc= FindResource(module, resName, resType);\nif(hSrc == NULL)\nreturn E_FAIL;\n...\n}\n\n\nWhen I debugging original DxViewer, FindResource return normal pointer so the model is loading correctly. And I just can't get it - why the same function with the same parameters is return different values.\n\n#2Anddos\u00a0\u00a0Members\n\n584\nLike\n0Likes\nLike\n\nPosted 11 October 2012 - 01:16 AM\n\nI've met some trouble with DxViewer programm that is contained at the DX SDK(I'm using 2007). What do I want is to run DxViewer as a child inside my own WinAPI window. I've googled so much but yet I didn't found anything helpful.\n\ni dont understand what you're trying todo, DxViewer is a program exe, what do you mean you want to run that as a child?\n\n#3NestyIvan\u00a0\u00a0Members\n\n111\nLike\n0Likes\nLike\n\nPosted 11 October 2012 - 08:21 AM\n\nDxViewer is a program exe, what do you mean you want to run that as a child?\n\nYes, it is. And I need that nice \"viewer\" features within my program. I need to load, view, zoom and twist a model. Exactly what DxViewer can do!\nActually, I've already run DxViewer inside my application. I've added extern function into DxViewer project, changed settings from '.exe' application to dynamic lybrary and then just called that extern function from the library.\nAs I said before it's worked, but probably I should create DxViewer's main dialog in a different way. Becouse it's the only part of the original code that I changed.\n\nEdited by NestyIvan, 11 October 2012 - 08:22 AM.\n\n#4Anddos\u00a0\u00a0Members\n\n584\nLike\n0Likes\nLike\n\nPosted 12 October 2012 - 07:52 AM\n\nDxViewer is a program exe, what do you mean you want to run that as a child?\n\nYes, it is. And I need that nice \"viewer\" features within my program. I need to load, view, zoom and twist a model. Exactly what DxViewer can do!\nActually, I've already run DxViewer inside my application. I've added extern function into DxViewer project, changed settings from '.exe' application to dynamic lybrary and then just called that extern function from the library.\nAs I said before it's worked, but probably I should create DxViewer's main dialog in a different way. Becouse it's the only part of the original code that I changed.\n\nso why dont you use the .x utilty function with some windows api that opens a file from a directory you select?\n\n#5NestyIvan\u00a0\u00a0Members\n\n111\nLike\n0Likes\nLike\n\nPosted 07 November 2012 - 10:25 AM\n\nWell, finally we've done it!\nThe general problem was that DxViewer functions that load resources are use NULL handler for environment. When we set it to DxVewer.dll it works!\n\nOld topic!\n\nGuest, the last post of this topic is over 60 days old and at this point you may not reply in this topic. If you wish to continue this conversation start a new topic.","date":"2016-12-11 02:13:05","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 1, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.17324991524219513, \"perplexity\": 3904.610834260345}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": false, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2016-50\/segments\/1480698543782.28\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20161202170903-00311-ip-10-31-129-80.ec2.internal.warc.gz\"}"}
| null | null |
@implementation AppleGuiceBindingBootstrapper
@synthesize bindingService = _ioc_bindingService;
-(void) bootstrap {
}
@end
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
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| 1,026
|
(18:13): I present the committee's revised report on the Aged Care Amendment (Staffing Ratio Disclosure) Bill 2018, together with the minutes of proceedings.
By leave—The advisory report on the Aged Care Amendment (Staffing Ratio Disclosure) Bill 2018 follows on from the detailed work the committee undertook in the area of aged care in its October 2018 report as part of its inquiry into the quality of care in residential aged care facilities in Australia.
In recent times, instances of mistreatment have brought attention to the quality of care provided in residential aged-care facilities. The need to ensure that older Australians have access to high-quality residential care has prompted the committee to inquire into the conditions in Australian aged-care facilities.
Our first report identified the types of serious concerns which have led to the government establishing a royal commission into the aged-care sector. I note that this report is being tabled a day after the proceedings of the commission commenced, and we look forward to the outcomes of its work.
The committee recommends the passage of this bill, as its intention is to increase consumers' access to information about staffing in aged-care facilities.
This aligns with the findings of the committee's aged-care inquiry report, which highlighted that the provision of an appropriate number of staff is a critical component of the delivery of quality aged care. In our first report, the committee noted that the number of registered nurses employed, for example, in the aged-care sector, has declined over the last 15 years, despite the increase in the number of aged-care residents and the acuity of their health needs.
The committee, therefore, welcomes moves to increase transparency and assist consumers to make informed decisions regarding aged-care facilities.
During the inquiry concerns were raised that the publication of staffing ratios without contextual information and other quality measures would not provide consumers with a reliable or useful tool to assess different facilities.
The committee agrees contextual information should be developed by the Department of Health. Staffing ratios are not the sole determinant of the quality of aged-care services, and the profile and needs of aged-care centres will differ, in some cases markedly.
However, this should not become a hindrance to greater transparency and more meaningful consumer information. Residents and their families deserve access to this type of information about facilities which will effectively become their home for the remainder of their lives.
The committee reiterates that the publication of staffing ratios is not the only necessary improvement to the protections provided for older Australians living in aged-care facilities.
The committee anticipates the Royal Commission into Aged Care Quality and Safety will provide an opportunity to strengthen safeguards and enhance the quality of care provided to older Australians.
There have been many recent inquiries into the aged-care sector, so I would particularly like to thank the organisations and individuals who provided evidence to this inquiry. The continued engagement of so many organisations and individuals highlights both the importance of this issue and the passion and commitment of those who seek to improve Australia's aged-care sector.
Finally, I would like to thank my fellow committee members, including the member for Mayo, whose bill is the subject of this report and who joined the committee as a supplementary member for the course of the inquiry. I also record my thanks to the staff of the committee for their support and consideration of the bill. The committee system would struggle without the dedication and professionalism of the staff who work for it.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
}
| 5,953
|
using CK.Auth;
using CK.Core;
using Microsoft.AspNetCore.Authentication;
using Microsoft.AspNetCore.DataProtection;
using Microsoft.Extensions.Primitives;
using Newtonsoft.Json.Linq;
using System;
using System.Collections.Generic;
using System.IO;
using System.Text;
namespace CK.AspNet.Auth
{
/// <summary>
/// Secure IQueryCollection and/or IFormCollection data serialization, using a binary serialization.
/// </summary>
public class ExtraDataSecureDataFormat : SecureDataFormat<IDictionary<string, string?>>
{
class Serializer : IDataSerializer<IDictionary<string, string?>>
{
public IDictionary<string, string?> Deserialize(byte[] data)
{
var result = new Dictionary<string, string?>();
using (var s = new MemoryStream(data))
using (var r = new CKBinaryReader(s))
{
int c = r.ReadNonNegativeSmallInt32();
while( --c >= 0 )
{
result.Add( r.ReadString(), r.ReadNullableString() );
}
return result;
}
}
public byte[] Serialize( IDictionary<string, string?> model )
{
using (var s = new MemoryStream())
using (var w = new CKBinaryWriter(s))
{
w.WriteNonNegativeSmallInt32( model.Count );
foreach( var k in model )
{
w.Write( k.Key );
w.WriteNullableString( k.Value );
}
return s.ToArray();
}
}
}
static readonly Serializer _serializer = new Serializer();
/// <summary>
/// Initialize a new AuthenticationInfoSecureDataFormat.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="p">Data protector to use.</param>
public ExtraDataSecureDataFormat( IDataProtector p )
: base( _serializer, p )
{
}
}
}
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
}
| 9,363
|
Q: Распаралелить цикл Здравствуйте! Необходимо распараллелить цикл
For(i=2;i<N;i++)
For(j=2;i<N;j++)
A[i,j] =A[i-2,j] +A[i,j-2];
По теории массив необходимо обрабатывать либо блоками 2*2, либо по диагонали. Ниже обработка блоками. Но распараллеливание реализовано неверно, выдает неправильные результаты.
Кто-нибудь сможет подсказать, как верно решается эта задача?
#include <iostream>
#include <omp.h>
#include <iomanip>
using namespace std;
const int N=10;
int A[N][N];
int main()
{
int i, j, n;
srand (time(NULL));
// Заполнение первых двух строк и столбцов массива случайными числами от 0 до 10
for (i = 0; i < 2; i++) {
for (j = 0; j < N; j++) {
A[i][j] = (rand() % 10 + 1);
A[j][i] = (rand() % 10 + 1);
//cout << setw(4) << A[i][j];
}
//cout << endl;
}
//Вывод массива
for (i = 0; i < N; i++) {
for (j = 0; j < N; j++) {
cout << setw(4) << A[i][j];
}
cout << endl;
}
double time=omp_get_wtime();
#pragma omp parallel num_threads(3)
{
//#pragma omp for
for (i = 2; i < N+N; i++) {
j=2;
int k=i;
//#pragma omp parallel private(j,k)
while(j<=i)
{
if(k<N && j<N)
{
A[k][j] = A[k-2][j] + A[k][j-2];
cout << omp_get_thread_num();
}
--k;
++j;
}
}
}
cout << "Paraller area. End" << endl;
cout<<"time: "<<omp_get_wtime()-time<<endl;
cout << endl;
cout << "New array" << endl;
cout << endl;
// Вывод на экран
for (i = 0; i < N; i++) {
for (j = 0; j < N; j++) {
cout << setw(4) << A[i][j];
}
cout << endl;
}
system ("pause");
return 0;
}
A: Изучил OpenMP для решения задачи :) (поверхностно, конечно). Вот моё решение на C++, можно запустить онлайн:
#include <iostream>
#include <vector>
#include <cstdint>
#include <memory>
#include <cstring>
#include <algorithm>
using namespace std;
typedef uint32_t u32;
typedef int32_t s32;
#define MEMZERO(obj) memset(&obj, 0, sizeof(obj))
#define MEMCOPY(dst, src) memcpy(&dst, &src, min(sizeof(dst), sizeof(src)))
enum {
c_block_size = 2,
N = 97,
};
int main() {
u32 a[N][N]; MEMZERO(a);
// Initial start values.
for (u32 i = 0; i < N; ++i) {
for (u32 j = 0; j < c_block_size; ++j) {
a[i][j] = a[j][i] = i * c_block_size + j;
}
}
u32 b[N][N]; MEMCOPY(b, a);
// Parallel version.
#pragma omp parallel for num_threads(c_block_size * c_block_size)
for (s32 tid = 0; tid < c_block_size * c_block_size; ++tid) {
u32 i_shift = tid / c_block_size;
u32 j_shift = tid % c_block_size;
for (u32 i = c_block_size + i_shift; i < N; i += c_block_size) {
for (u32 j = c_block_size + j_shift; j < N; j += c_block_size) {
a[i][j] = a[i][j - c_block_size] + a[i - c_block_size][j];
}
}
}
// Non-parallel version.
for (u32 i = c_block_size; i < N; ++i) {
for (u32 j = c_block_size; j < N; ++j) {
b[i][j] = b[i - c_block_size][j] + b[i][j - c_block_size];
}
}
// Output and check correctness.
{
bool is_correct = true;
u32 shift = (N / c_block_size - 1) * c_block_size;
for (u32 i = 0; i < c_block_size; ++i) {
for (u32 j = 0; j < c_block_size; ++j) {
cout << a[shift + i][shift + j] << " ";
if (a[shift + i][shift + j] != b[shift + i][shift + j]) is_correct = false;
}
cout << endl;
}
cout << (is_correct ? "CORRECT" : "INCORRECT") << endl;
}
return 0;
}
Замечания: я сделал обобщённую версию для любого N и для любого размера стороны квадрата c_block_size, у автора задача была для c_block_size = 2. Размер N я сделал так что можно задать не кратный c_block_size. Также я сделал проверку корректности на не-параллельной версии. Распараллеливание идёт по номеру потока, т.к. я не нашёл как в OMP задать для каждого потока точные индексы for которые только этому потоку принадлежат, т.к. для решения задачи понадобилось бы потоку давать 0й 2й 4й 6й и т.д. индексы, а OMP только похоже разбивает индексы for на интервалы. В конце я вывожу значения только последнего квадрата, т.к. он самый показательный. При вычислении массива индексы по потокам распределялись как (звёздочки это начальные значения, цифры это номера потоков). Цикл по tid параллелится максимальным числом потоков, но вполне можно любое число потоков задать, хоть 1.
Замерил время при N = 8192, c_block_size = 16, num_threads = 8. Получилось что параллельная версия исполняется 500мс, без распараллеливания (т.е. 1 поток) та же версия 800мс, т.е. не значительное ускорение наблюдается, наверняка тормозит уже чисто изза доступа к памяти, т.к. алгоритм не трудный по вычислениям а скорее упирается в скорость работы памяти.
Если кому нужен C++ класс который я написал для точного вычисления времени, то привожу его ниже:
Попробовать онлайн!
#include <iostream>
#include <chrono>
#include <string>
#include <cstdint>
using namespace std;
typedef uint64_t u64;
class TimeMeasure {
public:
TimeMeasure(string const & name) {
name_ = name;
start_time_ = std::chrono::high_resolution_clock::now();
end_time_ = start_time_;
}
u64 TimeElapsedNS() {
end_time_ = std::chrono::high_resolution_clock::now();
u64 diff = chrono::duration_cast<chrono::nanoseconds>(end_time_ - start_time_).count();
return diff;
}
~TimeMeasure() {
cout << "Time elapsed for [" << name_ << "] = " << dec << TimeElapsedNS() / 1000 << " mcs." << endl;
}
private:
string name_;
chrono::time_point<chrono::high_resolution_clock> start_time_, end_time_;
};
int main() {
TimeMeasure time_measure("Main");
}
Пример вывода:
Time elapsed for [Main] = 28 mcs.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
}
| 3,172
|
{"url":"https:\/\/heart.bmj.com\/content\/88\/3\/244","text":"Article Text\n\nAssessment of right ventricular function with Doppler echocardiographic indices derived from tricuspid annular motion: comparison with radionuclide angiography\nFree\n1. O M Ueti,\n2. E E Camargo,\n3. A de A Ueti,\n4. E C de Lima-Filho,\n5. E A Nogueira\n1. Department of Internal Medicine, Discipline of Cardiology, University of Campinas School of Medicine, Campus Universitario \u201cZeferino Vaz\u201d, 13083-970 Campinas, S\u00e3o Paulo, Brazil\n1. Correspondence to:\nDr Eduardo A Nogueira;\nnogueira{at}hc.unicamp.br\n\nAbstract\n\nObjective: To assess right ventricular systolic function using indices derived from tricuspid annular motion, and to compare the results with right ventricular ejection fraction (RVEF) calculated from radionuclide angiography.\n\nDesign: Pulsed Doppler echocardiography indices were obtained from 10 patients with a normal RVEF (group 1) and from 20 patients whose RVEF was less than 45% (group 2).\n\nResults: The patients in the two groups were similar in age, systolic blood pressure, and heart rate. There was a close correlation between the tricuspid annular motion derived indices (D wave integral (DWI), peak velocity of D wave (PVDW), and tricuspid plane systolic excursion (TPSE)) and RVEF (r = 0.72, 0.82, and 0.79, respectively). DWI was significantly higher in group 1 than in group 2. PVDW discriminated adequately between individuals with abnormal and normal right ventricular ejection fraction. The sensitivity and specificity of tricuspid annular motion derived indices were very good.\n\nConclusions: Indices derived from tricuspid annular motion appear to be important tools for assessing right ventricular systolic function.\n\n\u2022 right ventricular ejection fraction\n\u2022 tricuspid annular motion\n\u2022 pulsed Doppler\n\u2022 DWI, D wave integral\n\u2022 MPAP, mean pulmonary artery pressure\n\u2022 PVDW, peak velocity of D wave\n\u2022 RVEF, right ventricular ejection fraction\n\u2022 TPSE, tricuspid plane systolic excursion\n\nRequest Permissions\n\nIf you wish to reuse any or all of this article please use the link below which will take you to the Copyright Clearance Center\u2019s RightsLink service. You will be able to get a quick price and instant permission to reuse the content in many different ways.\n\nAssessment of the right ventricular ejection fraction (RVEF) is difficult owing to the complex structure and asymmetrical shape of the ventricle.1 In contrast to the left ventricle, the right ventricular cavity does not resemble a clear tridimensional geometrical solid to serve as a model for calculations.1\u20135\n\nThe ejection fraction calculated from radionuclide angiography is independent of a geometrical model and has become the standard method for determining right ventricular systolic function.6 Cross sectional echocardiography has been widely used for determining left ventricular function, though its role in the assessment of the right ventricular function remains uncertain. Kaul and colleagues, taking advantage of the fact that there is normally substantial motion of the tricuspid plane in the meridional (longitudinal) direction, showed that this motion reflected right ventricular systolic function.7,8 More recently, a technique has been described involving atrioventricular motion dynamics, using pulsed Doppler cross sectional echocardiography.9 This allows assessment of ventricular performance in the meridional direction. Our aim in the present study was to assess right ventricular function using indices derived from tricuspid annular motion and compare the results with RVEF calculated from radionuclide angiography.\n\nMETHODS\n\nStudy population\n\nThirty patients underwent radionuclide angiography for assessment of right ventricular ejection fraction. Immediately after the completion of the radionuclide study, all patients were submitted to pulsed Doppler cross sectional echocardiography. Blood pressure and heart rate were obtained before the echocardiographic study. Twenty patients were male (age range 29 to 77 years) and 10 were female (20 to 64 years). The patients were divided into two groups according to the right ventricular ejection fraction, measured by radionuclide angiography. Group 1 consisted of 10 patients (three women and seven men), mean (SD) age 47.4 (13.1) years, and with a normal RVEF (> 45%)10; this group was formed of patients without clinical, electrocardiographic, or echocardiographic evidence of heart disease. Group 2 consisted of 20 patients (seven women and 13 men), mean age 51.7 (16.2) years, and with an RVEF < 45%.10 This group was composed of nine patients with pulmonary hypertension, six with dilated cardiomyopathy, three with liver cirrhosis of viral aetiology and tricuspid regurgitation, one with severe systemic hypertension, and one with an atrial septal defect that had been surgically repaired. None of these patients had any evidence of previous myocardial infarction.\n\nThe study was approved by the ethics committee of the Hospital of the University of Campinas.\n\nAcquisition of the radionuclide angiography data\n\nAll patients underwent radionuclide angiography for assessment of RVEF. These radionuclide studies used red cell labelling, achieved by an intravenous injection of stannous pyrophosphate followed by technetium-99 pertechnetate 15\u201320 minutes later. None of these patients had atrial fibrillation or frequent premature ventricular complexes.\n\nImages were acquired with a scintillation camera equipped with a high sensitivity collimator. All patients were studied in the 45\u00b0 left anterior oblique projection with caudal tilt to maximise chamber separation. Gated cardiac blood pool images were collected at a rate of six frames per cardiac cycle, for a total of 500 000 counts per frame. The total acquisition time ranged from 6\u20138 minutes.11,12\n\nProcessing of the radionuclide angiography data\n\nImage analysis required a light pen delineation of regions of interest over the right ventricle in both end diastole and end systole. These frames were determined from a time\u2013activity curve generated over the right ventricle. The RVEF fraction was calculated from the following equation:\n\n$Math$\n\nThe lower limit of normal for the RVEF is 45%.10 The reproducibility of the manual technique for RVEF determination has been defined in our department, with an interobserver agreement of 0.92.\n\nM mode and cross sectional echocardiography data analysis\n\nOur data were acquired using an ATL UltraMark 4 machine (Advanced Technology Laboratories, Bothel, Washington, USA), with 3 and 5 MHz transducers and Doppler. For hard copy we used a Sony video printer.\n\nThe M mode cursor was oriented to the junction of the tricuspid valve plane with the right ventricular free wall, using images of the apical four chamber view. This generates echoes that are received and registered as motion of the right ventricular base (fig 1A). Tricuspid plane systolic excursion (TPSE) was defined as the difference in the displacement of the right ventricular base during diastole and systole (fig 1B).7 Tricuspid plane excursion in M mode was measured on-line. Mean pulmonary artery pressure was estimated from the right ventricular outflow tract acceleration time.13\n\nFigure 1\n\n(A) A four chamber view in a patient: the M mode cursor or sample volume is located at the junction of the right ventricular free wall and the tricuspid annular plane. (B) Schematic illustration of atrioventricular plane motion by M mode. (C) Schematic illustration of atrioventricular plane motion by pulsed Doppler. Adapted from reference 9. LA, left atrium; LV, left ventricle; RA, right atrium; RV, right ventricle; TPSE, tricuspid plane systolic excursion.\n\nPulsed Doppler of tricuspid annular plane\n\nFrom the cardiac image in the apical four chamber view, the pulsed Doppler sample volume with a fixed length of 10 mm was placed within the lateral margin of the tricuspid annulus (fig 1A). The echocardiographic cursor was oriented so that it was parallel to the direction of tricuspid annular motion. To record the low Doppler shift frequencies produced by the moving wall, the wall filter was set at 100 Hz and the gain control was reduced to magnify the quality of the graphic signal. Signals were differentiated from atrioventricular flows by their opposite direction, higher energy, timing, and unique audio signal. We calculated the mean value from three beats during held expiration.9 Measurements were obtained from the same echocardiographic tracing, but not necessarily the same beat, by one observer and later by the second observer.\n\nPulsed Doppler of tricuspid annular plane data analysis\n\nDuring motion of the tricuspid annular plane, the Doppler signals showed a succession of positive and negative velocity waves (fig 1C). Positive waves corresponded to apically directed motion of the atrioventricular plane and negative waves to atrially directed motion. In systole, the Doppler signal showed a large positive wave related to the displacement of the tricuspid annular plane towards the apex, called the D wave. This wave was digitised. The peak velocity of the D wave (PVDW) was obtained. The area under the D wave\u2014the D wave integral (DWI)\u2014gave an estimate of the tricuspid plane systolic excursion (fig 1C).9 PVDW was measured on-line. We measured the area under the D wave as follows: first, the video printer film was scanned with a Genius CollorPage SP2X machine associated with a Pentium II 133 MHZ computer; second, the D wave trace was digitised and planimetered with a custom program developed at the University of Campinas Chemical Institute.\n\nStatistical analysis\n\nAll data were expressed as mean (SD). Interobserver agreement was assessed by linear regression analysis, coefficient of repeatability, Pitman's test of difference in variance, and the Bland\u2013Altman plot. Univariate and multivariate linear regression analysis were employed to assess the relation between the echocardiographic indices and the right ventricular ejection fraction. Pitman's test of difference in variance and the Bland\u2013Altman plot were also employed to assess the differences between the echocardiographic indices and right ventricular ejection fraction when all these variables were standardised (mean = 0, standard deviation = 1). The ability of the indices to classify the patients according to normal and abnormal right ventricular function was assessed with univariate and multivariate linear discriminant analysis, which provided the optimal cut-off points for accuracy prediction and calculation of sensibility and specificity. Differences between the two groups were assessed using Student's t test. All analyses were considered significant at a probability value of p < 0.05. Data analysis was performed with S-PLUS 2000 software14 and Stata 6.0.15\n\nRESULTS\n\nAcquisition of the echo Doppler data was successful in all patients, so there were no exclusions because of inadequate examination. The demographic, clinical, eletrocardiographic, echocardiographic, and radionuclide angiography data are summarised in table 1. There were no significant differences in age, heart rate, or systolic blood pressure between groups 1 and 2 (table 2).\n\nTable 1\n\nClinical, demographic, electrocardiographic, echocardiographic, and radionuclide angiography data in the two study groups\n\nTable 2\n\nComparison between clinical and echocardiographic data in the two groups\n\nMean (SD) right ventricular ejection fraction was 51.7 (5.4)% in group 1 and 22.7 (10.4)% in group 2. Interobserver agreement and repeatability analyses of DWI showed that there was a significant difference between the two measurements:\n\n\u2022 positive Pitman's test of difference in variance: r = 0.650, p < 0.001\n\n\u2022 positive Pitman's variance ratio test: ratio of standard deviations = 1.5778, 95% confidence interval (CI) 1.2766 to 1.9501, t = 4.530, df = 28, p < 0.001\n\n\u2022 Bland\u2013Altman plot (not shown): positive trend.\n\nInterobserver agreement and repeatability analyses of PVDW showed that there was no significant difference between the two measurements:\n\n\u2022 negative Pitman's test of difference in variance: r = \u22120.147, p = 0.449\n\n\u2022 positive Pitman's variance ratio test: ratio of standard deviations = 0.9412, 95% CI 0.8039 to 1.1019, t = \u22120.785, df = 28, p = 0.439\n\n\u2022 Bland\u2013Altman plot (not shown): no trend.\n\nUnivariate linear regression and correlation between RVEF and the echocardiographic indices were all statistically significant:\n\n\u2022 DWI = 0.04 + 0.014 RVEF, r2 = 0.52, r = 0.72, p < 0.001\n\n\u2022 TPSE = 0.016 + 0.019 RVEF, r2 = 0.63, r = 0.79, p < 0.001\n\n\u2022 PVDW = \u22120.12 + 0.035 RVEF, r2 = 0.68, r = 0.82, p < 0.001.\n\nMultivariate linear regression analysis showed that a model including PVDW, TPSE, and their interaction had very strong significance, with r2 = 0.8445.\n\nBland\u2013Altman plots of each of the echocardiographic variables in standardised form (mean = 0, standard deviation = 1) with RVEF, also in standardised form, showed no trends and no difference in variance (fig 2). Pitman's test showed that there was no difference in variance for standardised DWI: r = 0.00, p = 1; standardised TPSE: r = 0.00, p = 1; or standardised PVDW (r = 0.00, p = 1).\n\nFigure 2\n\nBland\u2013Altman plots of right ventricular ejection fraction. Top: standardised D wave integral (SDWI); centre: standardised tricuspid plane systolic excursion (STPSE); bottom: standardised peak velocity of the D wave (SPVDW). The horizontal lines represent mean and 2 SD of the calculated differences.\n\nUnivariate linear regression and correlation between mean pulmonary artery pressure (MPAP) and the echocardiographic indices were all significant and showed an inverse relation:\n\n\u2022 DW = 29.68 \u2212 0.25 MPAP, r2 = 0.3541, r = \u22120.60, p < 0.005\n\n\u2022 TPSE = 24.32 \u2212 0.23 MPAP, r2 = 0.3784, r = \u22120.61, p < 0.004\n\n\u2022 PVDW = 16.89 \u2212 0.12 MPAP, r2 = 0.3896, r = \u22120.62, p < 0.000.\n\nThe linear regression and correlation between MPAP and RVEF was also significant and inverse: RVEF = 49.01 \u2212 53.06 MPAP, r2 = 0.2586, r = \u2212 0.51, p < 0.020.\n\nSensitivity, specificity, and test accuracy from univariate linear discriminant analysis were all above the 75% level (table 3). Multivariate linear discriminant analysis showed that the best discriminant model included PVWD and TPSE, in accordance with the multivariate linear regression analysis.\n\nTable 3\n\nDiscriminant regression analysis of the pulsed Doppler echocardiographic indices and group classification\n\nDISCUSSION\n\nOur study showed that indices derived from tricuspid annular motion\u2014DWI, PVDW, and TPSE\u2014were strongly correlated with radionuclide right ventricular ejection fraction. Individually, PVDW was the best index, followed by TPSE and DWI in that order, while multivariate regression analysis showed that a linear model involving both PVDW and TPSE had the greatest significance. These results were also mirrored by the ability of these indices to discriminate patients with good right ventricular function from those with abnormal function. Their sensitivity and specificity suggest that they are suitable for clinical use, especially considering the low cost, the short time required to acquire the images, and the simple and rapid analysis, in contrast to the radionuclide technique.\n\nKaul and colleagues, using cross sectional echocardiography and radionuclide angiography, observed that the measurement of tricuspid annular plane systolic excursion could reflect systolic function.7 Ghio and colleagues, using M mode cross sectional echocardiographic and thermodilution derived right ventricular ejection fraction measurements, demonstrated that tricuspid plane motion can be considered a physiological index of right ventricular function.16 More recently, Meluzin and colleagues and Moustapha and associates obtained similar results.17,18\n\nOur results showed a significant inverse correlation between MPAP and RVEF, DWI, PVDW, and TPSE. This reflects the well known relation between pulmonary artery pressure and RVEF in pulmonary,19 myocardial,20 and valvar heart disease21 and results from the dependence of right ventricular systolic function on afterload.\n\nAlong with previous studies, our investigation appears to add new clinical significance to the physiological behaviour of tricuspid plane motion.7\u20139 The tricuspid annular plane systolic displacement seems to be important and is not influenced by its complex structure and asymmetrical shape. In the right ventricle, the atrioventricular plane to apex shortening is more pronounced. This has been documented by Rushmer and colleagues in animals.8 Similarly, methods using magnetic resonance myocardial tagging and tissue Doppler imaging have also shown a significant meridional motion of the right ventricle.1,9 Furthermore, the disposition of the muscles and other structures of the inflow region of the right ventricle suggest that movement occurs in the meridional plane during right ventricular contraction.2 It is known that the myocytes are disposed longitudinally in the inflow region and are therefore more sensitive to meridional stress.2\n\nIn this study, we did not obtain right ventricular systolic and diastolic areas, owing to lack of echocardiographic definition of the endocardial borders. The complex shape of the right ventricle limits the use of cross sectional echocardiography for assessing right ventricular function.22 The right ventricle is prone to considerable changes under abnormal preload and afterload, which makes the right ventricular cavity even more geometrically complex.1,2,23\u201325 In addition, inadequate definition of the endocardium impedes accurate calculation of the area of the right ventricular cavity. Similar difficulties have been reported by other observers.26,27\n\nRadionuclide angiography has been considered the standard method for assessing the right ventricular ejection fraction because it does not depend on the complex geometry of the right ventricle.6,10,28 Nonetheless, this procedure requires injection of radionuclide markers and has a low spatial resolution. Furthermore, the technique suffers from attenuation artefacts, and differentiation between the right ventricle and the right atrium may be difficult.4,29 As well as radiation exposure to the patient, an additional drawback is that the cost is much greater than the echocardiographic study.\n\nPossible limitations\n\nOur indices only took account of meridional excursion during systole. Theoretically, the influence of the motion of the entire heart should be evaluated. However, we did not use any additional variables because of technical difficulties. Radial shortening and regional area reduction are dependent on the complex shape of the right ventricle.7,16 Pronounced translational movement of the heart is another cause of conflicting results.1 We need to consider the possibility that our measurements were inaccurate when the beam was not parallel but formed an angle between the M mode cursor (or the Doppler sample volume) and the meridional excursion of the lateral margin of the tricuspid plane.30\n\nDifficulties in tracking the D wave edge are another possible limitation, and thus its integral and peak velocity\u2014recorded by pulsed Doppler\u2014may be overestimated.31\n\nWhat would be the effect of a local segmental contraction abnormality of the right ventricle on these indices? In previous studies we showed that the left ventricular base descends in the direction of the cardiac apex and that the apex stays almost stationary during systole.32 In this context, if we imagine the heart to be divided into several segments in a longitudinal direction from base to apex, longitudinal movement of the base would be a summation of the excursion of each of these segments in a longitudinal direction and would thus represent global systolic performance. In this model each segment would add an equal share of contraction, irrespective of whether it is a basal segment or an apical segment. We think this model can also be applied to the right ventricle. The presence of a poorly contracting longitudinal segment\u2014say the apical segment\u2014will reduce the summation of movements and, accordingly, lead to a reduction in base descent. This reduced base descent should, in our view, be interpreted as a reduction in global performance. This emphasises that movement of the base in the direction of the apex measures global performance, not local behaviour of the basal segments. Where there is poor contraction of all segments, summation of the movements would still lead to a much more inadequate base descent. This hypothesis has been confirmed.33\n\nWe did not assess the influence of sustained expiration during acquisition of the variables derived from the longitudinal movement of the tricuspid plane. Nonetheless, there are published data showing that the measurement of indices derived from the tricuspid inflow during expiration are almost identical to those acquired during apnoea. Thus we do not think this is a cause of error. To minimise this possible problem and improve reproducibility we used data from at least three heart beats in each patient.34\n\nConclusions\n\nIndices derived from tricuspid annular motion appear to be important clinical tools for assessing right ventricular systolic function. They are able to discriminate patients with normal right ventricular function from those with abnormal function, with good sensitivity and specificity.","date":"2022-07-02 18:07:37","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 0, \"img_math\": 2, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.476335346698761, \"perplexity\": 4078.9217332734897}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": false, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2022-27\/segments\/1656104189587.61\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20220702162147-20220702192147-00722.warc.gz\"}"}
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Tibetan Antelope Poacher Arrested 17 Years after Murder of Official
2011-12-27 12:57:40 Xinhua Web Editor: Zhangxu
Chinese police have arrested a suspect who, among a group of 18 armed poachers, allegedly shot dead an official trying to protect near-extinct Tibetan antelopes in a remote northwestern grassland plateau 17 years ago, police said Tuesday.
The suspect, surnamed Mu, was arrested in the city of Golmud, Qinghai province, on Sunday night after six others surrendered themselves to police for the 1994 murder of Sonam Dargye.
Sonam Dargye was the deputy head of the Zhidoi county government responsible for organizing anti-poaching efforts. He was killed during one of his frequent patrols of the sparsely-populated Hoh Xil grassland on the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau when he confronted 18 poachers in January 1994.
Sonam Dargye killed one of the two lead poachers in the exchange of fire. The other was executed by the court. Police are still searching for the last four members of the group, officials said.
The story of Sonam Dargye became widely known following the release of the award-winning feature film "Mountain Patrol" by Chinese director Lu Chuan in 2003.
The endangered Tibetan antelope, which is under first-class state protection in China, largely inhabits northwest China's Qinghai-Tibet Plateau. Pregnant Tibetan antelopes migrate to Hoh Xil every June and July to give birth.
Poachers hunt the animals for their hides, as they can be sold and made into shahtoosh shawls, a luxury item that requires three to five Tibetan antelope skins to make just one shawl.
Since 1979, the Tibetan antelope has been recognized as an endangered species and protected under the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species. The Tibetan antelope was selected as one of the five mascots of the 2008 Beijing Olympic Games.
Seven Sentenced to Death for Drug Smuggling
A court in Shandong has sentenced seven people to death for drug smuggling; three others have been given death with a 2-year reprieve.
Survey Shows Excessive Intake of Aluminum
Residents of northern China and those under the age of 14 may be ingesting more aluminum than healthy.
CHINATALKS
CHINATALKS: The Entrepreneurial Eco-System
• C4: Bad Boys
Join us for the latest episode of CRI's hilarious comedy news show.
• C4: World Cup Fever
Premier Li Keqiang Visits Britain, Greece
CICA Summit
Rain Storms Hit South China
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The Remnant è il primo album dei Becoming the Archetype, autopubblicato nel 2003.
Il disco
Saltando l'intro, che non dura neanche un minuto, la prima vera canzone è "Oath to Order": velocissimo e violento death metal. Seguono "Two" e "54 is 44", metalcore-oriented con tempistica sperimentale la prima, andante di double bass con finale assolo thrash la seconda. "Restoration" è più melodica rispetto alle precedenti, si fa notare l'assolo di chitarra. "The Regular Battle" e "In Loving Memory" sono canzoni dal ritmo veloce e potente, nella seconda notevole è l'assolo melodico. Chiudono l'album "The Longest Instant" e "For the Sake of Moving On".
Tracce
Collegamenti esterni
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Q: Issue with pandoc versions I am trying to run pandoc and am getting the Unknown writer: gfm issue, which seems to be fixed in the latest release of pandoc. However, I am unsure how to fix the versioning issue.
When I do pandoc -v I get:
pandoc 1.19.2.1
Compiled with pandoc-types 1.17.0.4, texmath 0.9, skylighting 0.1.1.4
Default user data directory: /Users/MYSELF/.pandoc
Copyright (C) 2006-2016 John MacFarlane
Web: http://pandoc.org
This is free software; see the source for copying conditions.
There is no warranty, not even for merchantability or fitness
for a particular purpose.
Don't ask me why, but I had ran brew uninstall pandoc and pip uninstall pandoc, so both now say there is no current installed pandoc. However, when I do type pandoc I get
pandoc is hashed (/anaconda3/bin/pandoc)
Meaning it depends on the anaconda installation. To remove it (or update it) I tried using conda update pandoc. I never went on with the removal since conda remove pandoc asks to remove many other things that I need (e.g. jupyter, nbconvert, jupyterlab, anaconda-2018).
How do I solve the issue of pandoc? Thanks in advance
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{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
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A Lynx ("Hiúz") egy páncélozott gyalogsági harcjármű, amelyet a német Rheinmetall Landsysteme GmbH fejleszt. A Lynx harcjárműcsalád a harcjárművek legújabb generációját képviseli: erős aktív és passzív védelemmel, fegyverzettel valamint számos fejlett érzékelő és felderítő rendszerrel rendelkezik, amelyek lehetővé teszik a gyors helyzetfelismerést a harcban. A Lynx egy sokoldalú, moduláris felépítésű harcjármű: könnyen átalakítható különféle feladatokra harctéri körülmények között is.
A Lynx gyalogsági harcjárművet KF31 konfigurációban 2016. június 14-én, a KF41 változatot pedig 2018. június 12-én mutatták be először az Eurosatory védelmi kiállításon. A Lynx KF41 első rendszeresítője a Magyar Honvédség, amely első harcjárműveit 2022-ben kapta meg. 2023-ban indul a zalaegerszegi gyár próbaüzeme is, ahol heti egy komplett Lynx harcjármű készül majd a tervek szerint a gyártás felfutása után, vagyis éves szinten 45-50 harcjármű kerül legyártásra a hazai igények kielégítésére.
2022 október 15-én hivatalosan is átadták a Lynx harcjármű első széria-gyártású példányát a Magyar Honvédségnek.
Az alábbiakban a KF41 változat kerül bemutatásra, mivel ez a verzió került végül sorozatgyártásra és a Rheinmetall vállalat is elsősorban ezt a változatot fejleszti és kínálja potenciális ügyfelei számára.
Tervezési elvek és kialakítás
A Lynx egy sokoldalú, moduláris felépítésű harcjármű. Ez azt jelenti, hogy a tetőpáncélzat és az ahhoz illeszkedő különféle fegyvertornyok és berendezések egyben ki- illetve leemelhetőek, cserélhetőek. A Lynx néhány órás szerelési munkával például lövészpáncélosból (IFV) sebesült szállítóvá alakulhat át.
A Lynx KF41 a járművezetőn, az irányzón és parancsnokon kívül 8 lövészt képes szállítani. A harcjárművek típusnevében a német KF rövidítés jelentése "Kettenfahrzeug", azaz lánctalpas jármű, "41" számok pedig az adott jármű (tervezett) tömeg besorolását (MLC) jelölték volna. A besorolásoktól a fejlesztés során jelentős mértékben eltértek és a KF41 a nehezebb MLC50 tömegbesorolás alá került – harci tömege inkább az 50 tonnához van közelebb.
Fontos szempont volt, hogy kipróbált, különösebb fejlesztést nem igénylő, sok esetben civil eredetű műszaki megoldásokat alkalmazzanak. Így lett a munkagépeiről ismert Liebherr a Lynx motorbeszállítója. A vezető műszerfala és a fedélzeti elektromos berendezések a Kodiak műszaki-mentő járműből, az ABV szűrő-szellőztető és a tűzelfojtó berendezések pedig a Boxer harcjárműből származnak.
Kiemelt szempont volt továbbá a jármű túlélőképessége, a személyzet és a szállított lövészek testi épségének védelme is, ahogy ez a Lynx számos műszaki megoldásában tetten érhető.
Mozgékonyság
A Lynx KF41 harcjárművek oldalanként hat futógörgővel rendelkezik hidraulikus energiaelnyelő ütközőkkel ellátott lengőkarokon. Az egyenként másfél tonnás lánctalpak megegyeznek a PzH 2000 önjáró tarack lánctalpaival, ami logisztikai előnyt jelent a mindkét típust üzemeltető Magyar Honvédség számára. A kanadai Soucy vállalat kidolgozott a Lynx számára egy kompozit gumilánctalpat (CRT), amely jelentősen könnyebb a hagyományosnál és javítja a harcjármű menettulajdonságait. Az új lánctalpat Ausztráliában tesztelték bízva az Ausztrál Hadsereg megrendelésében.
A közel 50 tonna harci tömegű KF41-es harcjárművet 18000 cm3 lökettérfogatú Liebherr D976 típusú motor mozgatja, amelynek ez lesz az első katonai alkalmazása. A 850 kW (1140 LE) teljesítményű motor egy Renk HSWL 256 típusú, 6 sebességes hidrodinamikus nyomatékváltón keresztül mozgatja a járművet. A motor érdekessége, hogy átállítható olyan üzem módra is, amely tartósan csak 25 kW teljesítményt biztosít alacsony hőkibocsátás, zajszint, valamint 12 l/h üzemanyag-fogyasztás mellett. Ilyenkor minden elektromos fedélzeti berendezés működőképes marad és nincs szükség kiegészítő áramforrásra (APU). A fegyverek is bevethetőek maradnak, mivel a torony mozgatása is teljesen elektromos..
A motor a nyomatékváltóval együtt (power-pack rendszerben), egy daru segítségével mintegy 40 perc alatt kiemelhető, így akár harci körülmények között is cserélhető, javítható. A Lynx KF41 harcjármű legalább 65 km/órás közúti végsebesség elérésére képes, 950 liter üzemanyagkészletének köszönhetően 600 km-t tud megtenni - akár tagolt, nehéz terepen is. A jármű képes 1,5 méter mély vízi akadályon átgázolni, 2,2 méter széles árkon áthajtani különösebb előkészületek nélkül. Egy méter magas akadály (lépcső) vagy 60 fokos emelkedő sem jelent számára problémát és 30 fokosnál nem nagyobb dőlésszögű rézsűn nem borul fel vagy csúszik le.
Ami légi szállíthatóságot illeti: a Pápán is állomásozó C-17 repülőgépek egyszerre egy, a C-5 teherszállító kettő, a bérszállításokra gyakran használt An-124-esek pedig akár három Lynx harcjárművet képesek szállítani egyszerre.
Páncélzat és védelmi rendszerek
A Lynx KF41 páncélzata kategóriájában az egyik legerősebb: szemből ellenáll a 30x165 mm-es szovjet illetve orosz szabvány szerinti gépágyúlövedékeknek. Oldalról védett a 14,5 mm-es páncéltörő lőszerek közvetlen találatának, és 10 kg tömegű akna haspáncél alatti robbanásának. A jármű továbbá védelmet nyújt a harcjárműtől 25 méternél távolabb becsapódó 155 mm-es tüzérségi lövedékek hatásai ellen. A Lynx tetőpáncélja, beleértve a tornyot is, tüzérségi lőszerek repeszei és résztöltetei elleni védelemmel ellátottak. A toronyban tárol lőszer a személyzettől el van különítve, a lőszerkészlet robbanás esetén a személyzet sértetlen maradhat.
A fent említett védettség megfelel NATO STANAG 4569 szabvány legmagasabb vagyis 6. szintjének, tüzérségi lövedékek elleni védelme azonban csak 5. szintű. A védettség további aktív és passzív védelmi elemekkel tovább fokozható.
A jármű tervezése során kiemelt szempont volt a személyzet védelme, így a jármű kialakítása is ezt tükrözi. A belső tüzek megakadályozása érdekében csak a tartalék üzemanyagtartály kapott a motortérben helyet; az üzemanyag-mennyiség legnagyobb része a harcjármű páncéltestén kívül helyezkedik el. Magasnyomású hidraulikavezetékek, a hűtő- és a kipufogórendszer csövei, illetve az elektromos vezetékek nagy része is a lánctalp felett, a küzdőtértől elkülönített páncélozott részben halad, így ezek sérülése nem okozhat személyi sérülést. A harcjármű küzdő- és motorterét tűzelfojtó rendszerrel is ellátták. A jármű rendelkezik tömegpusztító fegyverek elleni ún. ABV védelemmel is.
A jármű különféle aktív védelmi rendszerekkel (APS) is felszerelhető, amelyek a közeledő rakétákat érzékelve rejtőzést segítő ködgránátokat, illetve elhárító tölteteket vetnek ki. A Magyar Honvédség Lynx harcjárművei a Rheinmetall StrikeShield névre hallgató aktív védelmi rendszerrel lesznek felszerelve. A magyar Lynx harcjárművek aktív védelmi rendszere 15 radar-érzékelőből, 35 elektro-optikai érzékelőből, 33 elhárítótöltet-kivetőből fog állni. Utóbbiak közül néhány úgy lett pozicionálva, hogy a felülről támadó (ún. top-attack) páncéltörő rakéták ellen is védelmet nyújtsanak. A StrikeShield a gyári próbák során a harckocsi lövegekből kilőtt APFSDS lövedékek ellen is sikeresnek bizonyult, ami egy rendkívüli képesség a jelenleg használatban lévő aktív védelmi rendszerekkel összevetve.
Érzékelő és tűzvezető rendszerek
A Lynx harcjármű fejlesztése során kiemelt szempont volt a személyzet és a hordozott katonák számára az elérhető legjobb harcászati helyzetkép biztosítása. A cél elérése érdekében számos érzékelőrendszer került beépítésre.
Az úgy nevezett SAS rendszer 6 db kamerája 360 fokos megfigyelési lehetőséget biztosít – a személyzet éjjel-nappal teljesen tisztán láthatja a jármű környezetét.
Ugyancsak a rendszer részét képezi az LWS érzékelő egység, amely körkörösen képes az általánosan használt lézertávmérő és célrávezető lézerek sugarait érzékelni és figyelmezteti a személyzetet, hogy támadás várható. Szükség esetén automatikusan aktíválja a ködgránátvetőket, fedezve a jármű visszavonulását.
A tornyon található ASLS akusztikai lövésérzékelő rendszer is, amely háromszögeléssel meghatározza a fenyegetés helyét és jellegét. A lövésérzékelő rendszer képes a jármű fegyverzetét automatikusan a lövés irányába fordítani a mielőbbi ellen-tűzcsapás érdekében.
Az irányzó és a parancsnok stabilizált elektro-optikai érzékelőrendszerei (SEOSS) teljesen megegyeznek, szükség esetén egymással kicserélhetők, egymás feladatait elláthatják. Az eltérés a beépítés módjában tapasztalható: SEOSS–2S az irányzó figyelőműszere fix: a toronnyal együtt mozog, míg a SEOSS–2P, a parancsnok figyelőműszerei 360°-ban körbe forgatható a torony állásától függetlenül. Ez utóbbi önálló fegyverzettel is rendelkezik MSSA rendszer formájában (lásd alább). A lövegtorony tetején elhelyezett parancsnoki SEOSS–2P páncélozott burkolat védi, amely ellenáll 7,62 mm-es páncéltörő lövedékeknek (STANAG 4569 - 3. szint). Az irányzó optikáját a torony saját páncélzata védi a lövedékektől illetve szükség esetén egy páncéllemez húzható elé a védelmét növelendő - értelemszerűen ilyenkor nem használható az eszköz. Mindkét SEOSS rendszer rendelkezik 10x optikai nagyításra képes nappali és éjszakai elekto-optikai rendszerrel, amelyek 1024x768 felbontásúak. Az éjszaki képet egy 3. generációs Saphir hőképalkotó kamera biztosítja. A nappali optikai rendszer észlelési távolsága ("valami van ott!") több mint 18 km, az észlelt tárgy jellegének megállapítását (pl. jármű, ember stb.) több mint 8,5 km-ről teszi lehetővé, konkrét azonosítást (pl. jármű típusa, a személy férfi vagy nő) több mint 4,5 km-ről lehetséges. Az éjszakai képet biztosító hőkamera értékei még ennél jobbak, rendre: 17 km, 9 km és 5 km. Mindez 2,3x2,3 m méretű NATO szabvány célokra értendő.
Mindkét műszer rendelkezik lézeres távolságmérővel, amely 10 km távolságig képes 5 m pontosság mérni.
A digitalizált elektro-optikai rendszer képes mozgásérzékelésre és automata célkövetésre. A digitális tűzvezetés keretében egyetlen képernyőn elérhető a lézertávmérő adatai, rögzíthető lövéssorozat, lőszerszámláló, különböző kameraképek megjelenítése és számos egyéb funkció is. A parancsnok bármikor képes átvenni az irányzó teljes feladatát, vagy célt jelölhet ki a számára (ez az ún. "hunter-killer" képesség). A Lynx rendelkezik az ún. "killer-killer" képességgel, vagyis az irányzó és parancsnok önállóan, egymástól függetlenül küzdhet le célokat. Utóbbi az MSSA fegyverzettel teheti meg ezt, amíg az irányzó főfegyverzettel tüzel.
Fegyverzet
A Lynx KF41 harcjárművek fő fegyverzete a két fős Lance 2.0 lövegtoronyba épített MK30-2/ABM 30 mm-es gépágyú, amely képes programozott, a járműtől meghatározott távolságára felrobbanó (ún. ABM) lövedékek kilövésére. A programozott ABM lövedékek cél felett vagy egy épületen belül robbanva jelentős repesz hatást fejtenek ki, így pusztítva a fedezék mögé rejtőzött ellenséges erőket. Egy 30x173 mm-es ABM lövedék 162 darab 1,24 grammos kemény wolfram-karbid hengert tartalmaz - ezek biztosítják a megfelelő repeszhatást. Amennyiben a lövedék program-parancs (időzítés) nélkül hagyja el a csövet, úgy hagyományos repesz-romboló lövedékként viselkedik és a célba csapódva fejti ki hatását. A 30x173 mm-es lőszert tüzelő gépágyú hatásos lőtávolsága mintegy 3000 méter, elméleti tűzsebessége pedig 200 lövés percenként, de akár egyetlen lövést is le tud adni. A könnyebb páncélos célok leküzdésére a DM–33 típusú APFSDS–T lőszer alkalmas, amely 1000 m-ről tüzelve 53 mm "hagyományos" hengerelt homogén páncélzatot (RHA) képes átütni 60 fokos becsapódási szög esetén.
A teljesen elektromos mozgatású és 360 fokban körbe forgatható toronyban elhelyezett löveg vízszinteshez képest -10 és +45 fokos tartományban emelhető, aminek következtében légi célok ellen korlátozottan alkalmazható. A gépágyú ún. kettős táplálású, vagyis két irányból, két különféle típusú lőszert képes betölteni, így az irányzó tüzelés előtt eldöntheti, hogy például repesz-romboló vagy páncéltörő lőszerrel szeretne lőni. A gépágyú számára egyszerre 200 lőszer érhető el. A lőszerkészlet akár belülről, a jármű elhagyása nélkül is újratölthető, amennyiben legalább 25 lőszer marad még a hevederben. Ha teljes lőszerkészletet kilőtték, akkor csak kívülről tölthető újra a gépágyú. A Lance 2.0 lövegtorony alkalmas arra, hogy igény esetén a 35x228 mm-es lőszert tüzelő WOTAN 35 gépágyút is befogadja, így növelve Lynx KF41 tűzerejét.
A jármű másodlagos fegyverzete egy párhuzamosított 7,62 mm-es géppuska, amely a szériajárműveknél a löveg baloldalán kapott helyet és mintegy 500 lőszeres javadalmazással bír. A géppuska típusát a rendszeresítő ország hadereje szabadon megválaszthatja: szinte bármilyen típus integrálható. A Lynxet elsőként rendszeresítő Magyar Honvédség esetében ez várhatóan az FN MAG géppuska lesz.
A jármű fegyverzetéhez tartozik még a torony tetején elhelyezett MSSA, azaz a SEOSS–2P parancsnoki figyelőműszerrel vezérelhető távirányított fegyverrendszer, amelybe többféle fegyver is integrálható. Az MSSA fegyverzete teljesen körbe forgatható, akár 70 fokig is emelhető és 7,62 mm-es géppuskától kezdve a 12,7 mm nehéz géppuskán át a 40 mm-es automata gránátvetőig (pl. MK19 vagy GMG) bezárólag sokféle fegyvert képes kezelni.
A Lynx harcjármű legnagyobb pusztítóerejű és legnagyobb hatótávolságú fegyvere a Spike LR2 páncéltörő rakéta, amelyből alapesetben kettőt, de szükség esetén akár négyet is képes hordozni a torony oldalára szerelhető indítókból. A Spike LR2 hatótávolsága 5500 méter és 700 mm-nél is vastagabb páncélzat (RHA) átütésére is képes. A Lynx a toronyoldalán hordozott 2 vagy 4 rakéta mellett további kettőt vihet magával a jármű belsejében, amelyek betöltéséhez azonban szükséges a jármű elhagyása. Az egyik rakéta indító helyére különféle célspecifikus konténerek, kiegészítő berendezések szerelhetőek. (Példaként a Rheinmetall egy felderítő drónt említ.)
Összehasonlítás
(Információk forrása a típusok angol nyelvű Wikipédia szócikkei.)
Típusváltozatok
A Lynxnek számos speciális feladatú változatát tervezi kifejleszteni a Rheinmetall vállalat kihasználva a típus moduláris kialakítását.
Gyalogsági harcjármű (IFV)
Ez az "alapváltozat", amely fent részletesen bemutatásra került. Ez a változat fogja adni a Honvédség és más rendszeresítő országok járműparkjának zömét.
Műszaki-Mentő (CRV/CSV)
A műszaki-mentő változat sérült, meghibásodott illetve elakadt Lynx járművek mentését, javítását segíti. Eddig egy prototípusa ismert, amelyet az Rheinmetall ausztrál tenderre fejlesztett ki és nevezett be. A jármű egy ausztrál fejlesztésű 5 tonnás kompakt daruval és a deszanttér helyén egy lapos platóval rendelkezik, ahol cserére szánt power-pack szállítható. Lynx alapú műszaki-mentő változat magyarországi rendszeresítése valószínűtlen, mivel a Lynx megrendelésével egyidőben a Honvédség 9 darab Büffel-3 nehéz műszaki-mentő járművet is rendelt. A Leopard 2 harckocsi alvázra épített jármű fogja ellátni a Lynx flotta támogatását, de szükség esetén a nehezebb Leopard 2 harckocsikat is képes segíteni, menteni.
Légvédelmi változat (SPAAG/VSHORAD)
A 2020-as örmény-azeri háború (ún. második hegyi-karabahi háború) fontos tanulsága volt a drónok (UAV) térnyerése és "háború eldöntő képessége". A drónveszély felismerése egyre inkább igényt támaszt a világ haderői részéről közeli és nagyon közeli hatótávolságú légvédelmi rendszerek iránt. Ezeket a képességeket a legtöbb haderő leépítette vagy meg is szüntette a hidegháború utáni évtizedekben. A Rheinmetall a Skyranger 35 illetve a kisebb, sokoldalúbb Skyranger 30 gépágyús tornyokra épülő rendszereit ajánlja a drónok elleni harcra. Kiszivárgott információk szerint a Magyar Honvédség aktívan érdeklődik egy Lynx alapú mobil légvédelmi rendszer iránt.
"Két héttel ezelőtt jelentettünk be egy légvédelmi fejlesztést, a Lynx alapjára szerelt légvédelmi gépágyúfejlesztési programot, amelynek a gyártása szintén Magyarországon fog történni;(...)" - hangzott el az Országgyűlés Honvédelmi és rendészeti bizottságának 2021. június 8-án tartott ülésén
Sajtó információk szerint alapváltozattal (IFV) azonos lőszert tüzelő Skyranger 30 kerül majd Magyarországon rendszeresítésre, amely önálló radarral és optikai felderítő képességgel valamint két kis hatótávolságú Mistral légvédelmi rakétával rendelkezik majd.
A Rheinmetall szakemberei szerint 2024-ben tudnák leszállítani az első példányokat csapatpróbákhoz és 2025 végére, 2026 elejére érheti el a rendszer a hadrafoghatóságot
A légvédelmi változat megrendeléséről egyelőre nem érkezett információ. Ez a változat nem része a leszerződött 218 harcjárművet tartalmazó "csomagnak".
Aknavetős változat (MC)
Gépesített lövészalakulatok többnyire rendelkeznek indirekt tűztámogató képességgel, ami jellemzően 120 mm-es aknavetők formájában nyilvánul meg. A Rheinmetall prezentációiban a finn NEMO félautomata aknavetőket ajánlja Lynx harcjárműveihez, de van saját automatikus irányzású aknavetője MWS 120 Ragnarök néven. Alapvetően a megrendelő szabad választása az aknavető típusa. Annyi már tudható a magyar vonatkozást illetően, hogy Rheinmetall a Honvédséggel közösen, annak igényeihez igazodva fejleszti a Lynx 120 mm-es aknavetővel felszerelt tüzérségi változatát, amelyek aztán rendszeresítésre is kerülnek. A fejlesztésben szerepet kaphat várhatóan magyar állam által megvásárolt az osztrák Hirtenberger Defence System (HDS) aknavetőgyártó is. A HDS vállalat két terméke jöhet szóba: M12 aknavető vagy félautomata SRAMS aknavető.
Páncélozott Szállító Harcjármű (APC)
Lövegtorony nélküli változat, amely egy távirányítású fegyverállvánnyal (RWS/RCWS) van felszerelve, amely 7,62 mm-es géppuskától kezdve a 12,7mm nehéz géppuskán át a 40mm-es automata gránátvetőig bezárólag sokféle fegyvert képes kezelni. A páncélozott szállító harcjármű elsődleges feladata a lövészek védett szállítása, és azok harcának támogatása. A nagy kaliberű fegyverzetet nem használó speciális változatok (lásd alább) szintén hasonló kialakításúak, speciális feladatorientált berendezéseikben térnek csupán el. A PSZH változatról eddig csak grafikák kerületek bemutatásra. Magyarországi rendszeresítéséről egyelőre nincs információ.
Mobil vezetési pont (C2/C3)
Külső megjelenésében nagyon hasonlít majd várhatóan a PSZH/APC verzióhoz, leginkább infokommunikációs eszközeiben és belső elrendezésében tér el. Önvédelmi célból egy távirányítású fegyverállvánnyal (RWS/RCWS) van felszerelve. Feladata nagyobb, legalább zászlóaljszintű alakulatok műveleteinek koordinálása és irányítása. Egy prototípus került eddig bemutatásra a 2018-as Eurosatory szakkiállításon. A Rheinmetall a Magyar Honvédséggel közösen, annak igényeihez igazodva fejleszti a Lynx parancsnoki változatát, amelyek aztán rendszeresítésre is kerülnek.
Sebesültszállító
Külső megjelenésében nagyon hasonlít majd várhatóan a PSZH/APC verzióhoz, leginkább belső elrendezésében tér el. Önvédelmi célból opcionálisan egy távirányítású fegyverállvánnyal (RWS/RCWS) van felszerelve. Feladata sebesültek frontvonalból történő kimentése. A Rheinmetall a Magyar Honvédséggel közösen, annak igényeihez igazodva fejleszti a Lynx sebesült szállító változatát, amelyek aztán rendszeresítésre is kerülnek.
Könnyű harckocsi
Lynx 120 néven is emlegetett könnyű harckocsi egy 120 mm-es harckocsi ágyúval felszerelt Lynx harcjármű, amelyből a fotók tanúsága szerint már prototípus is létezik. A lövegtorony a Rheinmetall saját fejlesztése és a Leopard 2 harckocsi módosított lövegére épül, amely képes DM11 programozott lőszer kilövésére. Lynx 120 könnyű harckocsi magyarországi rendszeresítéséről nincs információ, ugyanakkor ez eléggé valószínűtlen.
Felderítő
Eddig csak grafikák jelentek meg erről a változatról. Ezek alapján kialakítása nagymértékben megegyezik a gyalogsági harcjármű (IFV) változattal, néhány speciális felderítő műszer terén lehet eltérés. A Magyar Honvédség is rendszeresíteni fogja a Lynx felderítő változatát.
Tüzérségi megfigyelő
Eddig csak grafikák jelentek meg erről a változatról. Ezek alapján kialakítása nagymértékben megegyezik a PSZH/APC verzióval, néhány speciális felderítő műszer terén lehet eltérés. A Magyar Honvédség is rendszeresíteni fogja a Lynx tüzérségi megfigyelő változatát.
Sofőrkiképző
Fegyverzet nélküli jármű harcjárművezetők kiképzéséhez
Üzemeltetők
Üzemeltetők
2020. augusztus 16-án a magyar állam szerződést írt alá a német Rheinmetall céggel Lynx gyalogsági harcjárművek gyártására Magyarországon. 2020. szeptember 9-én 218 darab Lynx gyalogsági harcjárművet rendeltek meg, amelyből 172 darabot a zalaegerszegi Rheinmetall Hungary Zrt. gyárt le.
A járművet a Rheinmetall StrikeShield aktív védelmi rendszerével szerelik fel. Az első, még Németországban készült Lynx harcjárművek 2022-ben érkeznek Magyarországra, és ugyan ebben az évben tervezik a zalaegerszegi gyár tesztüzemét is.
A megrendelt mennyiség a bejelentés óta 256 harcjárműre emelkedett egy az Országgyűlés Honvédelmi és rendészeti bizottságának egyik jegyzőkönyve szerint, bár azóta ezt más forrás nem igazolta vissza.
A megrendelt Lynx mennyiséggel három lövészzászlóaljat kívánnak felszerelni.
A Rheinmetall a Magyar Honvédséggel közösen, annak igényeihez igazodva fejleszti a Lynx parancsnoki, mentő-sebesült szállító illetve 120mm aknavetővel felszerelt tüzérségi változatát.
2022 október 15-én Budapesten adták át hivatalosan a Lynx harcjármű első széria-gyártású példányát. Az első Lynx harcjárművek otthona Hódmezővásárhelyen lesz.
A Rheinmetall közleménye szerint a Magyar Honvédségnek hét változatban szállítja majd a Lynx harcjárműveket:
Gyalogsági harcjármű - az alapváltozat
Mobil harcálláspont - a parancsnoki verzió
Felderítő
Tüzérségi felderítő / megfigyelő
Önjáró aknavető - 120 mm-es aknavetővel felszerelt változat
Mentő, sebesült kihordó
Sofőr-kiképző - fegyverzet nélküli jármű harcjárművezetők kiképzéséhez
2023. január 12-én elkezdődött az első Magyarországon készülő Lynx harcjármű gyártása a Rheinmetall zalaegerszegi telephelyén. Egyelőre a gyár próbaüzeme zajlik, a sorozatgyártás 2023 júliusában indul a tervek szerint. Az első itthon készült harcjárművek átadása 2024-ben várható.
Potenciális jövőbeni üzemeltetők
- Az RM amerikai cégekkel összefogva pályáz a Bradley harcjárművek leváltását célzó OMFV programra. Döntés 2025-2027 között várható
- Az Ausztrál Hadsereg mintegy 450 harcjárművet tervez beszerezni az évtized végéig. A Lynx konkurense a dél-koreai K21 Redback; döntés 2023-ban várható.
- Görögország 205 Lynx harcjármű beszerzését tervezi helyi összeszereléssel együtt is.
- Az iraki kormány 2022 márciusában tárgyalásokba kezdett a Lynx harcjármű esetleges beszerzéséről.
Sikertelen értékesítések, tenderek
- Szlovákia mintegy 152 db lánctalpas gyalogsági harcjárművek beszerzését tervezi 1,739 milliárd euró értékben. A tenderen a Lynx az egyik esélyes harcjármű, versenytársai: svéd-brit CV90 Mk.IV, lengyel Borsuk, spanyol-amerikai ASCOD-2. Négy változat beszerzését tervezi: 131 gyalogsági harcjármű, 15 parancsnoki, irányítási és rádiókommunikációs (C3) gyalogsági harcjármű, három páncélozott mentőjármű (sebesült szállító) és három műszaki segítségnyújtó jármű. Az ajánlatokat közvetlenül a gyártóország kormányaitól várja a szlovák kormány, ahogy fegyverbeszerzéseknél sok esetben lenni szokott. A magyar kormány a Rheinmetallal közösen nyújtotta be az ajánlatát kedvező finanszírozási konstrukciót kínálva. A Rheinmetall 2022 márciusi közleménye szerint szerint a szlovák Lynx járművek összeszerelése Szlovákiában történt volna jelentős részben Magyarországon készült elemekből. A tervek szerint a 30 millió EUR befektetéssel készülő 150 főt foglalkoztató összeszerelő üzem Szepsi (Moldava nad Bodvou) városában lett volna, amely Kassa mellett található. A szlovák hadsereg összehasonlító tanulmányában szoros versenyben a Lynx a harmadik helyen végzett 257 ponttal. A tanulmány CV90 Mk.IV harcjárműt értékelte a legjobbra 292 ponttal, míg második helyre az ASCOD-2 került 279 ponttal. A Borsuk gyártója nem tudott járművet küldeni a kiválasztási próbára, így lényegében kiesett a versenyből: csupán harminc pontot kapott. 2022 június 28-án megszületett a szlovák kormány döntése: 35 mm-es gépágyúval felszerelt CV90 Mk.IV harcjárművek kerülnek megrendelésre.
- Az évek óta csúszó cseh harcjárműbeszerzési tendert 2021. november. 6-án eredménytelennek nyilvánították. A cseh kormány 2022 júliusában a CV90 Mk.IV harcjárművek beszerzéséről kezdett tárgyalásokat, mivel más gyártók nem voltak hajlandók teljesíteni a kormány kérését az eredménytelennek nyilvánított beszerzési projekt kapcsán keletkezett kárigényük elengedését illetően.
Galéria
Jegyzetek
Ajánlott cikkek, blogok a témához
A Lynx gyalogsági harcjármű
HADITECHNIKA folyóirat LIV. évf. – 2020/6 - A Lynx harcjárműcsalád fejlesztése, technikai leírása és jövője (I. rész)
HADITECHNIKA folyóirat LV. évf. – 2021/1 - A Lynx harcjárműcsalád fejlesztése, technikai leírása és jövője (II. rész)
HADITECHNIKA folyóirat LV. évf. – 2021/2 - A Lynx harcjárműcsalád fejlesztése, technikai leírása és jövője (III. rész)
Harci Vasak Blog - Magyar földre magyar Hiúzt! 1. rész, 2021. március
Harci Vasak Blog - Magyar földre magyar Hiúzt! 2. rész, 2021. március
Harci Vasak Blog - Magyar földre magyar Hiúzt! 3. rész, 2021. szeptember
Fordítás
Páncélozott szállító harcjárművek
Német harci járművek
|
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{"url":"http:\/\/ivory.idyll.org\/blog\/on-mentoring.html","text":"# On mentoring\n\nOne of the most important jobs a professor has is to pay it forward: that is, to teach, train, mentor, support, and open up opportunities for their students and postdocs. It's a job that is undervalued by those who focus on the short term -- the administrators and review committees that judge us by the money we bring in and the papers we publish. It's a misunderstood job, as well; the goal of a good mentor is not to mold their students in their own image, but to push them; to expand their horizons, not to contract them around the mentor's own views. And it's probably one of the two or three most rewarding parts of the job (surpassed only by the fun of actually doing the research!)\n\nI came to academia to do science: to research biology, and to solve problems that are as yet unsolved. And my goal is to become a good researcher, and to solve really hard problems well; hopefully that will be part of whatever legacy I have. But it's increasingly clear to me that the best, most lasting legacy possible is to train the next generations of scientists in doing good science, be it in industry or academia. For example, my father trained nearly 100 PhD students during his research career, and always felt that his training record was one of his most impactful contributions -- many of those 100 students are professors today, doing their own training. Pay it forward, indeed!\n\nRecently, I realized that if I drop dead tomorrow (or don't get tenure in three years -- same thing, right?) I would still have touched a number of people's lives in really positive ways. For example, I received an e-mail from one student that participated in GSoC, telling me that she felt she had learned an immense amount about self-sufficiency and the value of making an effort from that experience. I hired another student to do lab grunt work; she ended up liking science, switching majors, graduating, and has now received several national fellowships and is going to graduate school. I don't take credit for much past hiring her, but if I hadn't hired her, she would not have had the opportunity to show how good she is. Blogging and writing tutorials counts, too: at PyCon, 2-3 people a year come up to me and tell me how much they appreciate one or another of my blog posts or tutorials. Even class teaching can be impactful -- at graduation recently, an entire group of CS students told me how much they'd enjoyed my class on Web dev, with one particular student introducing me to her parents as \"one of the good ones\".\n\nIt's hard to overstate how fantastic it is to watch students grow and change.\n\nDespite the joys of transforming lives, many professors only want to take energetic, intelligent, well-spoken, well-trained students. Yet these students are the ones that already have opportunities, and frankly need less mentoring than others -- they already \"get it\", and really just need experience. Providing that experience is valuable, and a key part of training. But the same professors that jump at the 4.0 GPA student who speaks English natively and has tons of energy will turn down opportunities to take students from non-research intensive institutions, or unfocused students who come from non-academic backgrounds, or people who haven't the faintest idea what science is. And I think they do themselves and the students a disservice. These students simply have never seen the same opportunities that many students at (e.g.) MSU take for granted; the difference you could make in their lives dwarfs the impact you'd make on most better prepared students.\n\nIt's worth remembering that at some point we all start as wet-behind-the-ears youngsters that have never confronted a problem without an answer. Someone took a chance on us -- maybe it was easier to get that chance for those of us from a top-ranked institution, with an academic background (...me), or maybe it was a random \"hey, do you want to work for me over the summer?\" chance (...lots of people), or maybe it was an organized program to introduce underrepresented minorities to research (...lots of people). Now that you're a grad student, or a postdoc, or a professor, or an open source hacker with commit privileges to a dozen projects, take that chance. It's a lot of work but it can be more rewarding than pretty much anything else.\n\nIf I have a point with this blog post, it's this: one of the privileges of academia, and mentoring programs like GSoC, is being put in a position where you can touch many people's lives, as a mentor and a teacher. Do so! Take chances on people! Lay out some expectations and see who rises to meet them, and then chase down those that don't understand what to do. Don't start out with the expectation that you must be, or will be, rewarded in kind -- many students take years to be productive, may end up working on something completely different with someone else, and may never even say thanks. But that's OK, if you don't treat teaching and undergraduate research as a way to get more work done ('cause honestly, it's not), but rather as an opportunity to introduce the joys of your work to people who may have no idea that such awesome jobs exist. Pay it forward.\n\n--titus\n\nPosted by Greg Wilson on 2011-08-07 at 16:52.\n\nMentoring is the only part of academia I miss...\n\n\nPosted by Nick Coghlan on 2011-08-07 at 17:43.\n\nI think there's also a multiplicative effect involved as well. I can't\nget more hours into my own day, but by encouraging others to get\nenthusiastic about open source and helping them with the process of\ngetting involved, the payoff can be far larger than if I was to spend\nthat time just doing my own coding.\n\n\nPosted by Steve Holden on 2011-08-08 at 10:33.\n\nThe reason I left the academic world was its ridiculous under-\nvaluation of teaching and mentoring work.","date":"2014-04-25 04:58:34","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 1, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.33329084515571594, \"perplexity\": 1714.8711855914892}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2014-15\/segments\/1398223210034.18\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20140423032010-00178-ip-10-147-4-33.ec2.internal.warc.gz\"}"}
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\section{<Title of Section A>}
\bibliographystyle{informs2014}
\section{Introduction}
The theory of optimal stopping is concerned with problems of finding the best points in time to take a certain action based on a sequence of sequentially observed random variables. Problems of this kind are ubiquitous in the area of operations research, e.g., when hiring, selling, purchasing, or procurement decisions are made based on the partial observation of a sequence of offers with known statistical properties. In one of the most basic stopping problems, a gambler sequentially observes realizations $x_1 \sim X_1$, $x_2 \sim X_2$, \dots of a series of independent random variables. After being presented a realization $x_i \sim X_i$, the gambler has to decide immediately whether to keep the realization $x_i$ as a prize, or to continue gambling hoping for a better realization. For this setting, the famous prophet inequality due to Krengel, Sucheston, and Garling (cf.~\cite{krengel77,krengel78}) asserts that the best stopping rule of the gambler achieves in expectation at least half the optimal outcome of a prophet that foresees the realizations of all random variables and, thus, gains the expected maximal realization of all variables.
After the surprising result of Krengel et al., prophet-type inequalities were provided for several generalizations of their model, including settings where both the gambler and the prophet may stop multiple times (cf.~Kennedy~\cite{kennedy1987}, Alaei~\cite{alaei2014}), settings where both choose a set subject to matroid constraint (cf.~Kleinberg and Weinberg~\cite{kleinberg2012}), polymatroid constraints (cf.~D\"utting and Kleinberg~\cite{duetting2015}), and general constraints (cf.~Rubinstein~\cite{rubinstein2016}).
\iffalse
that In the secretary problem, we face a random sequence of $n$ applicants with different cost values, and we are interested in hiring the applicant with the smallest cost.
The applicants and their respective costs are observed one after another and we need to decide immediately whether to hire an applicant, or not.
The policy that maximizes the probability of hiring the least expensive applicant observes the cost values of the first $\nicefrac{n}{e}$ alternatives and then takes the first alternative that outperforms the best among these \cite{dynkin,lindley}.
Since this classical result, several variants of the problem have been analyzed
in the literature, including problems with non-discrete arrival \cite{bruss},
and cost values drawn from particular distributions~\cite{bearden,GilbertMosteller/66,mahdian}, see Freeman~\cite{freeman}
for a comprehensive review.
More recently, the focus has shifted towards hiring multiple applicants \cite{kleinberg2005}, possibly subject to combinatorial restrictions, such as knapsack \cite{babaioff07}, matroid \cite{babaioff2007soda,chakraborty12,feldman15}, matching~\cite{kesselheim2013}, packing~\cite{goebel2014}, or facility location constraints~\cite{meyerson2001}. See also \cite{alaei2012,goebel2014,kleinberg2012} for related results in the context of prophet inequalities. Since this remarkable, different variants of prophet inequalities have been established.
The scientific interest in secretary problems stems from the fact that they provide an elegant model to study resource allocation in online environments.
The classical secretary problem, for instance, models situations where a single item is to be sold, and bids for the item arrive online.
Minimization versions correspond to situations where a single good is to be procured.
In both settings, secretary problems capture the difficulty of identifying a good offer without information about the future.
\fi
In light of this remarkable progress in establishing prophet-type inequalities for various stochastic environments, two remarks are in order. First, the known results consider maximization problems only. While obviously important as a model for situations where, e.g., items are to be sold and offers for the items arrive over time, they do not capture the ``dual'' problem where items need to be procured. In fact, minimization problems in stochastic environments turn out to be much harder, as any stopping rule does not allow for a constant factor approximation compared to the prophet's outcome, even in the most basic case of single stopping and i.i.d.\ distributions (cf.~Esfandiari et al.~\cite{esfandiari2015}). Second, the models above are inherently \emph{static} in the sense that the objective depends only on the set of chosen realizations \emph{at the end} of the sequence. This is a reasonable assumption when the underlying selling or purchase decisions have a long-term impact, and the time during which the sequence of random variables is observed can be neglected. On the other hand, they fail to capture the natural situation where realizations are observed for a long period of time and selling or procurement decisions are taking effect even while further offers are observed.
To illustrate the key differences between static and dynamic settings, consider a firm that in each time step needs to be able to perform a certain task in order to be operational. Traditionally, the firm could advertise a position and hire an applicant able to perform the task. Assuming that the firm strives to minimize labour cost, this leads to a (static) prophet-type problem where the costs of the applicants are drawn from a distribution and the firm strives to minimize the realized costs. Alternatively, online marketplaces like oDesk.com and Freelance.com provide the opportunity to hire applicants with a limited contract duration and to possibly hire another contractor when a new offer with lower cost arrives. The constant rise of the revenue generated by these platforms (reaching 1 billion USD in 2014) suggests that the latter approach has growing economic importance \cite{verroios2015}.
Hiring employees for a limited amount of time leads to a new kind of stopping problem where
the ongoing observation period overlaps with the duration of contracts, and active contracts need to be maintained over time while receiving new offers.
To model these situations, we study a natural setting where at least one contract needs to be active at each point in time, while there is no additional benefit of having more than one active contract.\footnote{We discuss a relaxation of the strict covering constraint in Section~\ref{sec:conclusion}.}
This covering constraint renders it beneficial to accept good offers even when other contracts are still active, and a key challenge is to manage the tradeoff between accepting good offers while avoiding contract overlaps.
Specifically, we assume that in every time step $i \in [n]$ we observe the cost of the $i$-th applicant $x_i$, where the values $x_i$ are drawn i.i.d.\ from a common distribution $X$.
In each time step~$i$, we have to decide on a number of time steps~$t_i$ for which to hire the $i$-th applicant.
This duration is fixed irrevocably at time $i$ and extension or shortening of this duration is impossible later on.
Hiring applicant $i$ with realized cost $x_i$ results in costs of $x_i t_i$.
We are interested in minimizing the expected total hiring cost $\Exx{x_1 \sim X,\dots,x_n \sim X}{\sum_{i=1}^{n} {t_i x_i}}$, subject to the constraint that at least one applicant is under employment at all times.
\subsection{Results and Outline}
\iffalse
We first devise a straightforward dynamic program to compute an optimal solution to the online problem. For completeness, the dynamic program is given in Appendix~\ref{sec:dp}. Unfortunately, there are a number of reasons why this
optimal online algorithm is not satisfactory. Firstly, it requires all work to
be done upfront before the first applicant arrives. Secondly, the algorithm is
slow: even in the case where applicant costs are distributed uniformly, it
requires at least $O(n^3)$ time, and for other distributions the complexity may
be much worse. Thirdly, it cannot be applied at all in the case where the
distribution of applicant costs is unknown, or when the number of time steps is
unknown. Finally, above all else, it is complicated and requires $n^2$ different threshold values to describe it. As a consequence, it does not allow to understand the salient properties of good online strategies, e.g., it does not allow to bound the number of concurrent employments. While the algorithm
does provide an optimal competitive ratio, the dynamic program itself does not
seem easily amenable to analysis and so it gives no hints as to what the
optimal competitive ratio actually is.
\fi
When the total number of time steps and the distribution are known, the dynamic stopping problem considered in this paper can be solved by a straightforward dynamic program (DP). The DP maintains a table of $n^2$ optimal threshold values depending on the number of remaining covered and uncovered time steps. Like other optimal solutions for similar stochastic optimization problems, the DP suffers from the fact that it relies on the exact knowledge of the distribution and the number of time steps, and does not allow to quantify the optimal competitive ratio.
The results we give in this paper address these shortcomings. We
give online algorithms with constant competitive ratios, and in doing so, we
prove that the optimal online algorithm also gives a constant competitive ratio
for any cost distribution that is known upfront. Our techniques are robust with respect to incomplete information and can be extended to the case where the cost
distribution and/or the total number of time steps is unknown, while still providing a constant competitive ratio.
Furthermore, our approach is conceptually simple, efficient and not tailored to specific distributions.
For ease of exposition, we present
our algorithm in incremental fashion starting with a simplified version for
uniform distributions in \S~\ref{sec:uniform_first}. The algorithm maintains
different threshold values over time and hires applicants when their realized
cost is below the threshold. By relating the execution of the algorithm with a
Markov chain and by analyzing its hitting time, we bound the competitive ratio
of the algorithm. In \S~\ref{sec:uniform2}, we refine the algorithm and its
analysis to show that it is $2.965$-competitive in the uniform case. We provide
an analytical lower bound of $2$ for the best possible competitive ratio via a relaxation to the Cayley-Moser-Problem (cf.~\citet{moser1956}), and we give a computational lower bound of $2.14$.
Subsequently, in \S~\ref{arbitrary_distributions}, we generalize the algorithm to arbitrary distributions. Here, the main technical difficulty is to obtain a good estimation of the offline optimum. As we bound the offline optimum by a sum of conditional expectations given that the value lies in an intervals bounded by exponentially decreasing quantiles of the distribution, we are able to derive a competitive ratio of $6.052$.
In \S~\ref{sec:unknown_distribution}, we further generalize our techniques to
give a constant competitive algorithm for the case where the distribution is
unknown a priori. The main idea of the algorithm is to approximate the quantiles
of the distribution by sampling.
Finally, in \S~\ref{sec:sequential_employment}, we show that our algorithms
remain competitive in the case that at most two applicants may be employed
concurrently. We also extend our results to the case where the
total number of applicants is unknown.
In contrast to this, we show that the best possible online algorithm without concurrent employment has competitive ratio $\Theta(\notnicefrac{\sqrt{n}}{\log n})$, even for uniform distributions.
To improve readability, we relegate the formal analysis of the underlying Markov chains to \S~\ref{sec:markov}.
\subsection{Related Work}
The interest in optimal stopping rules for sequentially observed random experiments dates at least as far as to \citet{cayley1875} who asked for the optimal stopping rule when $n$ tickets are drawn without replacement from a known pool of $N$ tickets with different rewards. See also \citet{ferguson1989} for more historical notes on this problem. Cayley solved this problem by backwards induction, an approach later formalized by Bellman~\cite{bellman1954}. \citet{moser1956} studied Cayley's problem for the case that $N$ is large and the $N$ rewards are equal to the first $N$ natural numbers. In that case, the problem can be approximated by $n$ draws from the uniform distribution and Moser provided an approximation of the corresponding threshold values of the optimal stopping rule. For similar results for other distributions, see \citet{GilbertMosteller/66,guttman1960} and \citet{karlin1962}. In \S~\ref{sec:lower_bound}, we will use the asymptotic behavior of the threshold due to \citet{GilbertMosteller/66} to obtain a lower bound for our problem.
Krengel, Sucheston, and Garling (cf.~\cite{krengel77,krengel78}) studied optimal stopping rules for arbitrary independent, non-negative, but not necessarily identical random variables. Their famous prophet inequality asserts that the expected reward of a gambler who follows the optimal stopping rule (that can still be found using backwards induction) is at least half the expected reward of a prophet who knows all realizations beforehand and will stop the sequence at the highest realization.
Samuel-Cahn \cite{samuel-cahn1984} showed that the same guarantee can be obtained by a simple stopping rule that uses a single threshold rather than $n$ different thresholds as the solution of the dynamic program. Hill and Kertz~\cite{hill1992} surveyed some variations of the problem.
More recently, Alaei~\cite{alaei2014} considered the setting where both the prophet and the gambler stop $k \in \mathbb{N}$ times and receive the sum of their realizations as rewards and gave an algorithm with competitive ratio $1 - \frac{1}{\sqrt{k+3}}$. For a more general setting in which the selection of both the gambler and the prophet is restricted by a matroid constraint, Kleinberg and Weinberg \cite{kleinberg2012} showed a tight competitive ratio of $1/2$. D\"utting and Kleinberg \cite{duetting2015} generalized this result further to polymatroid constraints. \citet{goebel2014} studied a prophet inequality setting where a solution is feasible if it forms an independent set in an underlying network. They gave an online algorithm that achieves a $\mathcal{O}(\rho^2 \log n)$-approximation where $\rho$ is a structural parameter of the network. Very recently, \citet{rubinstein2016} studied the problem for general downward-closed constraints. He gave a $\mathcal{O}(\log n \log r)$-approximation where $r$ is the cardinality of the largest feasible set and showed that no online algorithm can be better than a $\mathcal{O}(\log n / \log \log n)$-approximation. For a generalization towards non-linear valuations functions, see \citet{rubinstein2017}.
The recent interest in prophet inequalities is due to an interesting connection to mechanism design problems that was first made by Hajiaghayi et al.~\cite{hajiaghayi2007}. They remarked that threshold rules used to prove prophet inequalities correspond to thruthful online mechanisms with the same approximation guarantee as the prophet inequality. Chawla et al.~\cite{chawla2010} noted that posted pricing mechanisms for revenue maximization can be derived from prophet inequalities by using the framework of virtual values due to \citet{myerson1981}. As our algorithms operate on the basis of threshold values as well they can also be turned into truthful mechanisms. However, the exact properties of these mechanisms deserve further investigation.
\citet{esfandiari2015} considered the minimization version of the classical prophet inequality setting. They showed that even for i.i.d.\ random variables, no stopping rule can achieve a constant approximation to the cost of a prophet. This is in contrast to our results for the dynamic prophet inequality setting as we obtain a constant factor approximation even without knowledge of the distributions or $n$.
Further related are secretary problems (cf.~Ferguson~\cite{ferguson1989} for a review), and in particular secretary problems where the values are drawn from i.i.d.\ distributions as considered by Bearden~\cite{bearden}. The main difference to our model is that in secretary problems the objective is to maximize the probability of selecting the best outcome. Yet, our algorithm developed in \S~\ref{sec:unknown_distribution} for solving the case of unknown distributions is reminiscent of the optimal stopping rules for secretary problems as it also employs a sampling phase in which the distribution is learned before hiring an applicant.
Very recently, Fiat et al.~\cite{fiat2015} studied a dynamic secretary problem where secretaries are hired over time. In contrast to our work, they consider a maximization problem, and the contract duration is fixed.
\iffalse
\subparagraph*{Significance and Further Related Work}
The secretary problem over time considered in this paper has applications to the problem of optimal refinancing of loans \cite{agarwal13,dunn05,pliska06}.
The solutions to this problem considered in the finance literature are often recursive in nature, similar to our dynamic program developed in Appendix~\ref{sec:dp}.
These dynamic programs, however, give no indication on the competitive ratio of the problem and rely on the assumption that the total number of time steps is known.
On the other hand, we assume that the costs drawn in each time step are independent, while in financial applications, it is common to assume that the costs values are determined by a stochastic process, e.g., a discrete-time Markov chain or Brownian motion.
These models are again controversial, since historic data seems to imply that actual interest rates are mean-reverting, see the discussion in Agarwal et al.~\cite{agarwal13}.
Even though our assumption of independent and identically distributed cost
values falls short of representing the actual dynamics of real-world interest rates, we believe that our model gives a good starting point to study the natural tradeoff between fixed-rate (long-term) and adjustable-rate (short term) mortgage plans \cite{campbell03}.
Other attempts to include a time dimension into classic secretary problems include Rasmussen and Pliska~\cite{rasmussen76} who gave a closed form solution for a variant of the classical secretary problem with discounting. Babaioff et al.~\cite{babaioff07} studied a generalization of this model, where the discount factors of each time step are not necessarily decreasing and gave an $\mathcal{O}(\log n)$-approximation for this problem.
A secretary problem over time with \emph{fixed} contract durations has been considered recently by Fiat et al.~\cite{fiat2015}.
\fi
\section{Preliminaries}
\label{sec:model}
For a natural number $n \in \mathbb{N}$ let $[n] = \{1,\dots,n\}$. We consider a
sequence $x_1 \sim X$, $x_2 \sim X$, $\dots$, $x_n \sim X$ of~$n$ i.i.d.\ random variables drawn from a
probability distribution~$X$.
Throughout this work, we assume that $X$ is a continuous distribution with
cumulative distribution~$F$ and probability density function $f$. Moreover, we
assume that $X$ assigns positive probability to non-negative values only, i.e.,
$F(0) = 0$.
In every time step $i \in [n]$ the cost $x_i$ of the $i$-th
applicant is revealed and we must decide the number of time steps $t_i$ the applicant is hired.
The duration of the employment $t_i$ is fixed irrevocably at time~$i$; no extension or shortening of this duration at any further point in time is possible.
Hiring applicant~$i$ with realized cost $x_i$ for~$t_i$ time steps results in costs of $x_i t_i$.
The objective is to minimize the expected total cost of hired applicants $\mbox{\rm\bf E}[{\sum_{i \in [n]} t_i x_i}] := \Exx{x_1 \sim X, \dots, x_n \sim X}{\sum_{i \in [n]} t_i x_i}$ subject to the constraint that at least one applicant is employed at each point in time $i \in [n]$, i.e., $\max_{j \leq i} \{j+t_j\} \geq i$ for all $i \in [n]$.
This is an online problem since, at time~$i$, we only know about the realizations $x_1,\dots,x_i$ up to time $i$ and have to base our decision about the hiring duration~$t_i$ of the $i$-th applicant only on this information and previous hiring decisions $t_1,\dots,t_{i-1}$. We are interested in obtaining online algorithms that perform well compared to an omniscient prophet. Let $\textsc{Opt}_n$ be the expected cost of an \emph{optimal offline algorithm} (i.e., a prophet) knowing the $n$ realizations in advance and let $\textsc{Alg}_n$ be the expected cost of a solution of an online algorithm.
Then the competitive ratio of the online algorithm $\textsc{Alg}_n$ is defined as $\lim\sup_{n \in \mathbb{N}} \lfrac{\Ex{\textsc{Alg}_n}}{\Ex{\textsc{Opt}_n}}$.
We call an algorithm competitive if its competitive ratio is constant, and call it \emph{strictly competitive} if even $\sup_{n \in \mathbb{N}} \lfrac{\Ex{\textsc{Alg}_n}}{\Ex{\textsc{Opt}_n}}$ is constant.
We use well-known facts from higher order statistics of random variables to obtain the following.
\begin{restatable}{proposition}{proopt}
\label{pro:opt}
The expected total cost of an optimal offline algorithm is $\Ex{\textsc{Opt}_n} = \sum_{i \in [n]} \int_0^{\infty} \bigl(1 - F(x)\bigr)^i \normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x$.
\end{restatable}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
In every step, the optimal offline algorithm employs the applicant with the lowest cost that has arrived so far.
We have
\begin{align*}
\Ex{\textsc{Opt}_n}
&= \mbox{\rm\bf E} \Bigl[\sum\nolimits_{i \in [n]} \min\nolimits_{j \in [i]}\{x_j\} \Bigr]\\[6pt]
&= \sum_{i \in [n]} \mbox{\rm\bf E} \Bigl[\min\nolimits_{j \in [i]} \{x_j\}\Bigr]\\
&= \sum_{i \in [n]} \int_0^{\infty} \P \Bigl[\min\nolimits_{j \in [i]} \{x_j\} > x\Bigr] \,\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x\\
&= \sum_{i \in [n]} \int_0^{\infty} \bigl(1-F(x)\bigr)^{\!i} \,\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x,
\end{align*}
as claimed. \hfill
\end{proof}
\section{An Optimal Online Algorithm}
\label{sec:dp}
We begin by describing an optimal online algorithm that uses dynamic
programming.
Let $C(i, j)$ denote the expected overall cost if there are $i$
time steps remaining, and if the next $j$ time steps are already covered by an existing
contract. As a boundary condition, we have that $C(i, i) = 0$ for all $i$, since
in this case no further applicants need to be hired.
Suppose that $C(i', j')$ has already been computed for all $i' < i$ and all
$j' \le i'$. First we describe how to compute $C(i, 0)$.
Suppose that we draw an
applicant with cost $x$. Since there are no existing contracts, we
must hire this applicant for at least one time step, and we will obviously hire this
applicant for at most $i$ time steps. If we hire the applicant for $r$ time steps, our
overall cost will be $r x + C(i-1, r-1)$. Thus, the optimal cost for an
applicant costing $x$ can be written as
\begin{align*}
\min_{1 \le r \le i}\left\{ rx + C(i-1, r-1) \right\}.
\end{align*}
Therefore, we have
\begin{align}
\label{eqn:dynamic0}
C(i, 0) = \int_{0}^{\infty} \min_{1 \le r \le i}\left\{ r x + C(i-1,
r-1) \right\} \, f(x) \, \normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x.
\end{align}
Now we suppose that $C(i, j)$ has been computed for~$j<i$ and describe how to compute
$C(i, j+1)$.
The analysis is similar as before, but in this case we have the additional option to reject an applicant and wait one more time step.
The cost of waiting one step
is given by $C(i-1, j)$, so we get the following expression
\begin{align}
\label{eqn:dynamicj}
C(i, j+1) = \int_{0}^{\infty} \min\left\{ C(i-1, j), \min_{j+1 < r \le
i}\left\{ r x + C(i-1, r-1) \right\}\right\} \, f(x) \, \normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x.
\end{align}
If $C(i, j)$ has been computed for all $i \le n$ and all $j \le i$, then there
is a straightforward online algorithm that achieves expected cost $C(n, 0)$.
This algorithm simply waits for the cost $x$ of each applicant to be revealed,
and then chooses the action that minimizes the expression in the above
equations.
\subsection{Analysis}
The computational efficiency of this algorithm depends on the difficulty of evaluating the
integrals in Equations~\eqref{eqn:dynamic0} and~\eqref{eqn:dynamicj}.
For the simple case where the cost distributions are uniform, the right and side of both equations boild down to finding
the piecewise minimum over at most $n$ linear functions, which can easily be
computed. For other distributions, the algorithm may be slower. It is worth
noting that the algorithm cannot be applied in the case where the distribution
is unknown. For the case of a known distributions, we conclude the following.
\begin{theorem}
The dynamic program given by eqs.~\eqref{eqn:dynamic0} and~\eqref{eqn:dynamicj} yields an optimal online algorithm.
\end{theorem}
Before we move on, we describe some shortcomings of this algorithm that we seek
to address in the remainder of this paper.
The first issue of the algorithm is that, although it does provide an optimal competitive ratio, it is unclear how to analyze the algorithm, and in particular we do not know what competitive ratio
the algorithm guarantees. Secondly, the algorithm is very complicated to describe as it uses at least $n^2$ different threshold values to decide the hiring duration of an applicant, and these threshold values are specifically tailored to the distribution in question.
In the subsequent sections, we show that there exist algorithms with a constant competitive ratio, and in doing so we prove that the competitive ratio of the optimal online algorithm is also constant.
Thirdly, the optimal online algorithm requires both the cost distribution and the total number of time periods to be known ahead of time.
In contrast, in the following we develop an online algorithm with constant competitive ratio that still works even if neither information is known.
\section{Uniformly Distributed Costs}
\label{sec:uniform}
In this section, we give two algorithms with constant
competitive ratios in the case where applicants' costs are distributed uniformly.
By shifting/rescaling we may assume without loss of generality that $X=U[0,1]$, i.e., that the costs are distributed uniformly in the unit interval. Using Proposition~\ref{pro:opt}, we obtain the following expression for the expected cost of the offline optimum.
\begin{lemma}
$\mbox{\rm\bf E} \bigl[\textsc{Opt}_{n}\bigr] = \mathcal{H}_{n+1}-1$ for all $n \in \mathbb{N}$, where $\mathcal{H}_{n}$ is
the $n$-th harmonic number.
\label{lem:opt_uniform}
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
By Proposition~\ref{pro:opt},
$\mbox{\rm\bf E} \bigl[\textsc{Opt}_{n}\bigr] = \sum_{i\in[n]}\int_{0}^{1}(1-x)^{i}\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x
= \sum_{i\in[n]}\frac{1}{i+1}=\mathcal{H}_{n+1}-1.$ \hfill
\end{proof}
\begin{algorithm}[tb]
\caption{A $8.122$-competitive algorithm for uniformly distributed costs.}
\label{alg:multi_uniform}
$\ensuremath{\tau} \leftarrow 1$ \tcp*[r]{threshold cost}
$t \leftarrow 1$ \tcp*[r]{remaining time with current threshold}
\For{$i \leftarrow 1, \dots, n$ }{
$t \leftarrow t-1$\;
\If{$x_i \le \ensuremath{\tau}$}{
hire applicant $i$ for $\notnicefrac{4}{\ensuremath{\tau}}$ time steps\;
\If{$i + \notnicefrac{4}{\ensuremath{\tau}} > n$}{
{\bf stop}\;
}
$\ensuremath{\tau} \leftarrow \notnicefrac{\ensuremath{\tau}}{2}$; $t \leftarrow \notnicefrac{1}{\ensuremath{\tau}}$
}
\ElseIf{$t=0$}{
$\ensuremath{\tau} \leftarrow 2\ensuremath{\tau}$; $t \leftarrow \notnicefrac{1}{\ensuremath{\tau}}$\;
}
}
\end{algorithm}
\subsection{A First Competitive Algorithm}
\label{sec:uniform_first}
We start with our first online algorithm for uniform distributions (cf.~Algorithm~\ref{alg:multi_uniform}).
The main idea of the algorithm is that whenever
we hire an applicant of cost $x$, we afterwards seek an applicant of cost $\notnicefrac{x}{2}$. The expected time until such an applicant arrives is $\notnicefrac{2}{x}$.
If we set our hiring time equal to this expectation, we would
leave a considerable probability that we do not encounter any cheaper
applicants before the hiring time runs out. Instead, we hire the applicant
for $\notnicefrac{4}{x}$ steps and iteratively
relax our hiring threshold after a certain time.
More precisely, assume $x=\notnicefrac{1}{2^{j}}$ for some integer $j$. We then hire the
applicant for time
\begin{align}
\label{eq:geo_sum}
\frac{4}{x} > \frac{4}{x} - 1 = \frac{2}{x}+\frac{1}{x}+\frac{1}{2x}+\frac{1}{4x}+\dots+1.
\end{align}
This way, if we do not find an applicant of cost at most $\notnicefrac{x}{2}$ during the next $\notnicefrac{2}{x}$
time steps,
we continue seeking for an applicant with cost $x$ for $\notnicefrac{1}{x}$ time steps, and so on.
The geometric sum~\eqref{eq:geo_sum} just leaves enough time until we eventually seek for an applicant with cost at most 1, who is surely found.
To accommodate the fact that the costs of applicants are not powers of 2, in general, we maintain a
threshold cost $\ensuremath{\tau}$ that is a power of 2 and reduce the threshold, whenever
a new applicant is hired, see Algorithm~\ref{alg:multi_uniform} for a formal description.
Finally, once an applicant is employed long
enough to cover all remaining time steps, we stop. Importantly, this
allows us to bound the lowest possible value of $\ensuremath{\tau}$ to be $2^{-\lceil\log n\rceil+2}$.\footnote{Here and throughout, we denote the logarithm of $n$ to base $2$ by $\log(n)$ and the natural logarithm of $n$ with $\ln(n)$.}
If an applicant is hired below this threshold, the hiring time is $\notnicefrac{4}{\ensuremath{\tau}}\geq n$.
In other words, during the course of the algorithm the threshold cost
$\ensuremath{\tau}$ can only take values of the form $2^{-j}$ for $j\in\{0,\dots,k-1\}$, where $k=\lceil\log(n)\rceil-1$.
This allows us to describe the evolution of $\ensuremath{\tau}$ with a Markov chain $M$
with $k+1$ states as follows. State $k$ is the absorbing
state that corresponds to the
event that we \emph{succeeded} in hiring an applicant at cost at most the
threshold value
$2^{-(k-1)}=2^{-\lceil\log n\rceil+2}$.
Each other state $j\in\{0,\dots,k-1\}$ corresponds to the event that the threshold value reaches $\ensuremath{\tau}=\ensuremath{\tau}_{j}:=2^{-j}$, see Figure~\ref{fig:markov_a} (a).
Each transition of the Markov chain from a state $j$ to a state $j-1$ corresponds to the failure of finding an applicant below the threshold $\tau_j = 2^{-j}$ for $1/\tau_j = 2^j$ time steps, resulting in a doubling of the threshold cost.
Each transition of the Markov chain from a state $j$ to a state $j+1$
corresponds to the hiring of an applicant resulting in the reduction of the threshold cost. We can therefore use the expected total number of state transitions of the Markov chain when starting at state $0$ to bound
the number of hired applicants overall.
\begin{figure}[tb]
\centering
\iffalse
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=0.3, every node/.style={scale=0.7}]
\matrix (m) [matrix of nodes, row sep=3em, column sep=4em,
nodes={draw, rectangle, line width=1, text centered, minimum size=2em}]
{ $0$ & $1$ & $2$ & |[draw=none]|$\phantom{1k}\dots\phantom{1k}$ & $\!\!k\!-\!1\!\!$ & $k$ \\ };
\draw[->] (m-1-1) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$p_0$} (m-1-2);
\draw[->] (m-1-2) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$1-p_1$} (m-1-1);
\draw[->] (m-1-2) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$p_1$} (m-1-3);
\draw[->] (m-1-3) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$1-p_2$} (m-1-2);
\draw[->] (m-1-3) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$p_2$} (m-1-4);
\draw[->] (m-1-4) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$1-p_3$} (m-1-3);
\draw[->] (m-1-4) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$p_{k-2}$} (m-1-5);
\draw[->] (m-1-5) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$1-p_{k-1}$} (m-1-4);
\draw[->] (m-1-5) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$p_{k-1}$} (m-1-6);
\foreach \x [count=\y] in {2,3}{
}
\end{tikzpicture}
\fi
\begin{subfigure}{\textwidth}
\centering
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=0.3, every node/.style={scale=0.7}]
\matrix (m) [matrix of nodes, row sep=3em, column sep=5em,
nodes={draw, rectangle, line width=1, text centered, minimum size=2em}]
{\\ $0$ & $1$ & $2$ & |[draw=none]|$\phantom{1k}\dots\phantom{1k}$ & $\!\!k\!-\!1\!\!$ & $k$ \\ };
\draw[->] (m-2-1) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$1$} (m-2-2);
\draw[->] (m-2-2) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$(1-\nicefrac{1}{2})^2$} (m-2-1);
\draw[->] (m-2-2) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$1-(1-\nicefrac{1}{2})^2$} (m-2-3);
\draw[->] (m-2-3) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$(1-\nicefrac{1}{4})^4$} (m-2-2);
\draw[->] (m-2-3) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$1-(1-\nicefrac{1}{4})^4$} (m-2-4);
\draw[->] (m-2-4) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$(1-\nicefrac{1}{8})^8$} (m-2-3);
\draw[->] (m-2-4) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$(1-\nicefrac{1}{2^{k-2}})^{2^{k-2}}$} (m-2-5);
\draw[->] (m-2-5) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$(1-\nicefrac{1}{2^{k-1}})^{2^{k-1}}$} (m-2-4);
\draw[->] (m-2-5) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$1-(1-\nicefrac{1}{2^{k-1}})^{2^{k-1}}$} (m-2-6);
\foreach \x [count=\y] in {2,3}{
}
\end{tikzpicture}
\subcaption{Original Markov chain $M$.}
\end{subfigure}
~\\
\begin{subfigure}{\textwidth}
\centering
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=0.3, every node/.style={scale=0.7}]
\matrix (m) [matrix of nodes, row sep=3em, column sep=5em,
nodes={draw, rectangle, line width=1, text centered, minimum size=2em}]
{\\ $0$ & $1$ & $2$ & |[draw=none]|$\phantom{1k}\dots\phantom{1k}$ & $\!\!k\!-\!1\!\!$ & $k$ \\ };
\draw[->] (m-2-1) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$1$} (m-2-2);
\draw[->] (m-2-2) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$\nicefrac{1}{e}$} (m-2-1);
\draw[->] (m-2-2) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$1-\nicefrac{1}{e}$} (m-2-3);
\draw[->] (m-2-3) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$\nicefrac{1}{e}$} (m-2-2);
\draw[->] (m-2-3) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$1-\nicefrac{1}{e}$} (m-2-4);
\draw[->] (m-2-4) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$\nicefrac{1}{e}$} (m-2-3);
\draw[->] (m-2-4) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$1-\nicefrac{1}{e}$} (m-2-5);
\draw[->] (m-2-5) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$\nicefrac{1}{e}$} (m-2-4);
\draw[->] (m-2-5) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$1-\nicefrac{1}{e}$} (m-2-6);
\foreach \x [count=\y] in {2,3}{
}
\end{tikzpicture}
\subcaption{Markov chain $\hat{M}(p,k)$ with homogeneous transition probabilities $p = 1-\nicefrac{1}{e}$.}
\end{subfigure}
\caption{Markov chains $M$ modeling the expected number of hired applicants of
Algorithm~\ref{alg:multi_uniform}. Nodes correspond to states. State~$k = \lceil \log n \rceil-1$ is absorbing.\label{fig:markov_a}}
\end{figure}
Let $p_{j}$ denote the transition probability from state $j$ to
state $j+1$; i.e., when in state~$j$, the Markov chain transitions to state $j+1$ with probability $p_j$ and to state $j-1$ with probability $1-p_{j}$.
The probability that we fail to find an applicant with cost at most
$\tau$ during $\notnicefrac{1}{\tau}$ time steps is bounded
by
\[
1-p_{j} = (1-\tau)^{\notnicefrac{1}{\tau}}\leq \frac{1}{e},
\]
i.e., $p_{j}\geq1-\nicefrac{1}{e}$.
We set $p= 1-\nicefrac{1}{e}$ and consider the Markov chain $\hat{M}(p,k)$ with homogeneous transition probability $p$ shown in Figure~\ref{fig:markov_a} (b). As we will show in the following lemma, the total number of state transitions to reach state $k$ in Markov chain $\hat{M}(p,k)$ provides an upper bound on the total number of state transitions to reach state $k$ in Markov chain $M$. The analysis of $\hat{M}(p,k)$ then yields the following result.
\begin{restatable}{lemma}{lemuniformhittingtime}
Starting in state $0$ of Markov chain $M$ with $k =\lceil\log(n) \rceil -1$, the expected number of state transitions is at most $\frac{e k}{e-2}$.\label{lem:uniform-hitting-time}
\end{restatable}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
Let $k = \lceil \log n \rceil -1$ and $p = 1 - \nicefrac{1}{e}$, and consider the Markov chain $\hat{M}(p,k)$ shown in Figure~\ref{fig:markov_a} (b). We first claim that the expected number of state transitions when starting in state~$0$ in Markov chain $M$ is bounded from above by that in Markov chain $\hat{M}(p,k)$. To see this, consider an arbitrary state~$j$ and consider the stochastic process that operates as $M$ with the exception that the first time state $j$ is visited, transition probabilities are as in $\hat{M}(p,k)$. Since $\hat{M}(p,k)$ has a higher probability to transition to a state with low index and the only absorbing state is $k$, this does not decrease the expected number of state transitions to state $j$ in $M$.
Iterating this argument, we derive that also the stochastic process where state~$j$ \emph{always} transitions as in $\hat{M}(p,k)$ has a higher number of state transitions to state $j$. Iterating this argument over all states proves that the expected total number of state transitions in $M$ is upper bounded by the expected total number of state transitions in $\hat{M}(p,k)$.
In Lemma~\ref{lem:markov_a_visit} in \S~\ref{sec:markov_a}, we show that the expected number of visits for each state in $\hat{M}(p,k)$ is upper bounded by $\frac{1}{2p-1} = \frac{e}{e -2}$. Since we start in state $0$ and end after the first visit in state $k$, we conclude that the total number of state transitions of Markov chain $\hat{M}(p,k)$ is bounded by
\begin{align*}
\Bigl(\frac{e}{e-2}-1\Bigr) + \sum_{i=1}^{k-1}\frac{e}{e-2} + 1 = \frac{e k}{e-2}.
\end{align*}
This gives the claimed result. \hfill
\end{proof}
We proceed to use Lemmas~\ref{lem:opt_uniform} and~\ref{lem:uniform-hitting-time} to obtain a first constant competitive algorithm for uniform costs.
\begin{restatable}{theorem}{thmuniformfirst}
Algorithm~\ref{alg:multi_uniform} is strictly $8.122$-competitive for uniform distributions.
\end{restatable}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
Since $\ensuremath{\tau}$ decreases whenever an applicant is hired, we can bound
the number of hired applicants by the number of state transitions
from a state $j$ to state $j+1$ of the Markov chain. The algorithm
terminates at the latest when state $k=\lceil\log(n)\rceil-1$ is reached. If it ever
reaches that point, it has hired at least $k$ applicants and
every further hiring is mirrored by a state transition that decreases the current state. By using Lemma~\ref{lem:uniform-hitting-time} and only counting the transitions that increase the state index, we can
bound the expected number of hired applicants by
\[
\frac{\frac{e k}{e-2}-k}{2}+k=\left(\frac{e}{e-2}+1\right)\frac{k}{2}\leq\left(\frac{e}{e-2}+1\right)\frac{\log n}{2}.
\]
Whenever we hire an applicant below threshold $\tau$ the cost of the applicant is uniform in $[0,\tau]$, so the expected cost
is $\notnicefrac{\tau}{2}$. Since the hiring period is $\notnicefrac{4}{\tau}$ we get that each hired applicant incurs an expected total cost of $2$. The threshold $\tau$ for the next candidate is independent of the exact cost of the last hire. Therefore we can combine the expected cost per candidate with Lemma~\ref{lem:opt_uniform} and we obtain
\begin{align*}
\frac{\Exp{\textsc{Alg}_n}}{\Exp{\textsc{Opt}_n}} &\leq \frac{\ln n}{\mathcal{H}_{n+1}-1} \cdot \frac{1}{\ln 2}\left(\frac{e}{e-2}+1\right).
\intertext{Using Lemma~\ref{lem:ratiouniformbad} proven below where $\gamma$ is the Euler-Mascheroni constant this implies}
\frac{\Exp{\textsc{Alg}_n}}{\Exp{\textsc{Opt}_n}} &\leq \left(1+\frac{20}{29}\left(\frac{5}{6}-\gamma\right)\right) \cdot \frac{1}{\ln 2}\left(\frac{e}{e-2}+1\right) < 8.122,
\end{align*}
as claimed.
\hfill
\end{proof}
\begin{lemma}
For any $n \in \mathbb{N}, \frac{\ln n}{\mathcal{H}_{n+1}-1} \leq 1+\frac{20}{29}\left(\frac{5}{6}-\gamma\right)$, where $\gamma$ is the Euler-Mascheroni constant. \label{lem:ratiouniformbad}
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
First, note that
\[\frac{\ln n}{\mathcal{H}_{n+1}-1} \leq \frac{\mathcal{H}_{n}-\gamma}{\mathcal{H}_{n+1}-1} = 1+\frac{1-\gamma-\frac{1}{n+1}}{\mathcal{H}_{n+1}-1}.\]
It suffices to prove that
\[\sup_{n \in \mathbb{N}}\frac{1-\gamma-\frac{1}{n+1}}{\mathcal{H}_{n+1}-1} = \sup_{n \in \mathbb{N}, n \geq 2}\frac{1-\gamma-\frac{1}{n}}{\mathcal{H}_{n}-1} \leq \frac{20}{29}\left(\frac{5}{6}-\gamma\right).\]
In order to do so, we show that there is a unique $n'\in \mathbb{N}_{\geq 2}$ with
\begin{align*}
\frac{1-\gamma-\frac{1}{n-1}}{\mathcal{H}_{n-1}-1} \leq \frac{1-\gamma-\frac{1}{n}}{\mathcal{H}_{n}-1} \quad &\text{for all } n \in \mathbb{N}_{\geq 2}, n \leq n'\text{, and}\\
\frac{1-\gamma-\frac{1}{n}}{\mathcal{H}_{n}-1} \geq \frac{1-\gamma-\frac{1}{n+1}}{\mathcal{H}_{n+1}-1} \quad &\text{for all } n \in \mathbb{N}_{\geq 2}, n \geq n',
\end{align*}
concluding that the supremum is attained at $n'$. Now we observe that
\begin{align*}
& & \frac{1-\gamma-\frac{1}{n}}{\mathcal{H}_{n}-1} - \frac{1-\gamma-\frac{1}{n+1}}{\mathcal{H}_{n+1}-1} &\geq 0\\
&\Leftrightarrow & \left(\mathcal{H}_{n+1}-1\right)\left(1-\gamma-\frac{1}{n}\right) - \left(\mathcal{H}_{n}-1\right)\left(1-\gamma-\frac{1}{n+1}\right) &\geq 0
\end{align*}
and
\begin{align*}
&\left(\mathcal{H}_{n+1}-1\right)\left(1-\gamma-\frac{1}{n}\right) - \left(\mathcal{H}_{n}-1\right)\left(1-\gamma-\frac{1}{n+1}\right)\\
&= \frac{1}{n+1}\left(1-\gamma-\frac{1}{n}\right) - \frac{1}{n}\left(\mathcal{H}_{n}-1\right) + \frac{1}{n+1}\left(\mathcal{H}_{n}-1\right)\\
&= \frac{1}{n+1}\left(1-\gamma-\frac{1}{n}\right) - \left(\mathcal{H}_{n}-1\right)\frac{1}{n(n+1)} = \frac{1}{n(n+1)}\left(n(1-\gamma)-\mathcal{H}_{n}\right),
\end{align*}
which is greater or equal to $0$ if and only if $n\geq 6$. We conclude that the supremum is attained at $n'=6$. We finish the proof by observing
\begin{align*}
\frac{\ln n}{\mathcal{H}_{n+1}-1} &\leq 1+ \frac{1-\gamma-\frac{1}{n+1}}{\mathcal{H}_{n+1}-1}\\ &\leq 1+ \sup_{\tilde{n} \in \mathbb{N}_{\geq 2}}\frac{1-\gamma-\frac{1}{\tilde{n}}}{\mathcal{H}_{\tilde{n}}-1}\\
&\leq 1+ \frac{1-\gamma-\frac{1}{6}}{\mathcal{H}_{6}-1}\\
&= 1+ \frac{20}{29}\left(\frac{5}{6}-\gamma\right),
\end{align*}
for all $n \in \mathbb{N}.$
\hfill
\end{proof}
\subsection{Improving the Algorithm}\label{sec:uniform2}
We proceed to improve the competitive ratio of our algorithm as follows
(cf.~Algorithm~\ref{alg:multi_uniform2}). First, recall that, in Algorithm~\ref{alg:multi_uniform}, we hired an applicant below the current threshold of $\tau_j = 2^{-j}$ for $\notnicefrac{4}{\tau_j}$ time units with the rationale that
\begin{align*}
\sum_{i=0}^{j+1} \frac{1}{\tau_{i}}= \sum_{i=0}^{j+1} 2^{i} = 2^{j+2}-1 = \frac{4}{\tau_j} - 1 < \frac{4}{\tau_j}.
\end{align*}
With this inequality, it is ensured that we can afford $\notnicefrac{1}{\tau_{j+1}}$ time steps to look for an applicant below the threshold $\tau_{j+1}$ and, in case we did not find a suitable applicant, additional $\notnicefrac{1}{\tau_j}$ time steps looking for an applicant below the threshold $\tau_j$, and so on, until the threshold is raised to $1$ and we find a suitable applicant with probability $1$.
It turns out that it pays off to reduce both the hiring times and the time steps we spend looking for an applicant below a given threshold uniformly by a factor of $c := \notnicefrac{3}{4}$. That is, when hiring an applicant below the threshold of $\tau_j$, we hire only for $\notnicefrac{4c}{\tau_j} = \notnicefrac{3}{\tau_j}$ time units. To compensate for that we only look for an applicant below threshold $\tau_j$ for $\lceil \frac{c}{\tau_j} \rceil = \lceil \frac{3}{4\tau_j}\rceil$ time units. Note that for $\tau \in \{\notnicefrac{1}{2},1\}$ we round all times to the next integer. For $j \geq 3$, we then obtain
\begin{align*}
\sum_{i=0}^{j+1} \biggl\lceil \frac{3}{4\tau_j} \biggr\rceil = \biggl\lceil \frac{3}{4} \biggr\rceil + \biggl\lceil \frac{3}{2} \biggr\rceil + \sum_{i=2}^{j+1} \frac{3}{4\tau_j} = 1 + 2 + 3 \sum_{i=2}^{j+1} 2^{i-2} = 3 \cdot 2^j = \frac{3}{\tau_j} \;.
\end{align*}
Similarly, we may check for $j=0$ that $\lceil \notnicefrac{3}{4} \rceil + \lceil \notnicefrac{3}{2} \rceil = 3 = \notnicefrac{3}{\tau_0}$, and for $j=1$ that $\lceil \notnicefrac{3}{4} \rceil + \lceil \notnicefrac{3}{2} \rceil +3 = 6 = \notnicefrac{3}{\tau_1}$. Thus, we may conclude that the above choices ensure that an applicant is under contract at all times.
Second, instead of reducing the threshold
once by factor 2 when we hire a new applicant, we repeatedly halve
the threshold for as long as it is still greater or equal to the actual cost of the new applicant. This
way, we can ensure that the cost for which a new applicant is hired
is always uniformly distributed in $[\ensuremath{\tau},2\ensuremath{\tau})$ (or possibly $[0,2\ensuremath{\tau})$
for the last hiring), where $\tau$ denotes the threshold \emph{after} the applicant is hired. Thus, the expected total cost of each applicant
is $\frac{3\tau}{2} \cdot \frac{2c}{\ensuremath{\tau}}=3c$ (or possibly $2c$ for
the last hiring).
\begin{algorithm}[tb]
\caption{A $2.965$-competitive algorithm for uniformly distributed costs.\label{alg:multi_uniform2}
}
$\ensuremath{\tau} \leftarrow 1$ \tcp*[r]{threshold cost}
$t \leftarrow 1$ \tcp*[r]{time with threshold}
\For{$i \leftarrow 1, \dots, n$ }{
$t \leftarrow t-1$\;
\If{$x_i \le \ensuremath{\tau}$}{
\While{$x_i \le \ensuremath{\tau}$}{
$\ensuremath{\tau} \leftarrow \notnicefrac{\ensuremath{\tau}}{2}$ \vphantom{$\delta_q$}\;
}
hire applicant $i$ for $\lceil \nicefrac{2c}{\ensuremath{\tau}}\rceil$ time steps$\vphantom{\delta_q}$\;
\If{$i + \lceil \nicefrac{2c}{\ensuremath{\tau}}\rceil > n$$\vphantom{\delta_q}$}{
{\bf stop}\;
}
$t \leftarrow \lceil \notnicefrac{c}{\ensuremath{\tau}} \rceil$ $\vphantom{\delta_q}$
}
\ElseIf{$t=0$}{
$\ensuremath{\tau} \leftarrow 2\ensuremath{\tau}$; $t \leftarrow \lceil \notnicefrac{c}{\ensuremath{\tau}} \rceil$ \vphantom{$\delta_q$}
}
}
\end{algorithm}
Once we hire an applicant with a cost below $2^{-j}$, the threshold $\tau$ after hiring is at most $2^{-(j+1)}$ so that the applicant is hired for at least $\lceil 2\frac{c}{\tau} \rceil \geq 2^{j+2}c$ time steps. This implies that we only need to account for thresholds of the form $\ensuremath{\tau}_j = 2^{-j}$ where $j\in\{0,1,\dots, \lceil\log(\notnicefrac{n}{c})\rceil-2\}$.
We again capture the behavior of the algorithm with a Markov chain
(cf.~Figure~\ref{fig:markov_b}). To this end, states $A_{0},A_{1},\dots,A_{k}$
and $B_{0},B_{1},\dots,B_{k}$ with $k=\lceil\log(\notnicefrac{n}{c})\rceil-2$ are introduced. We distinguish
between the states $A_{j}$ that correspond to the algorithm looking
for suitable applicants by comparing their cost with $\ensuremath{\tau}_j = 2^{-j}$, and states
$B_{j}$ that correspond to the event that the cost of our current candidate
is below the threshold $\ensuremath{\tau}_j = 2^{-j}$.
Each state $A_{j}$ with $j > 0$ either transitions to $A_{j-1}$ with probability $(1-p_j)$, when no
applicant for the current threshold was found, or to $B_{j}$ with
probability $p_j$. As for the previous Markov chain, we have
\[
(1-p_j)=(1-\tau_j)^{\lceil c/\tau_j \rceil} \leq e^{-c}.
\]
Similar to the previous section, we may consider the Markov chain with homogenous transition probabilities $p=1-e^{-c}$ shown in Figure~\ref{fig:markov_b} (b) instead, since we are only interested in
upper bounding the number of hired applicants. Each state $B_{j}$ with $j < k$ transitions
to $B_{j+1}$ or $A_{j+1}$ each with probability $\notnicefrac{1}{2}$,
since the cost $x$ lies with equal probability in $[\tau,2\tau)$
or $[0,\tau)$. State $B_{k}$ is the only absorbing state of the
Markov chain. Our analysis of the Markov chain in \S~\ref{sec:markov_b} yields the following result.
\begin{figure}[bt]
\begin{subfigure}{\textwidth}
\centering
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=0.3, every node/.style={scale=0.7}]
\matrix (m) [matrix of nodes, row sep=5.5em, column sep=4.5em,
nodes={draw, rectangle, line width=1, text centered, minimum size=2em}]
{ $B_0$ & $B_1$ & $B_2$ &|[draw=none]| $\phantom{B_1}\dots\phantom{B_1}$ & $\!\!\!B_{k\!-\!1}\!\!\!$ & $B_{k}$ \\
$A_0$ & $A_1$ & $A_2$ &|[draw=none]| $\phantom{A_1}\dots\phantom{A_1}$ & $\!\!\!A_{k\!-\!1}\!\!\!$ & $A_{k}$ \\ };
\draw[->] (m-2-1) -- (m-1-1) node [above,midway,sloped] {$1$};
\draw[->] (m-2-2) -- (m-1-2) node [above,midway,sloped] {$1-(1-\nicefrac{1}{2})^{2}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-3) -- (m-1-3) node [above,midway,sloped] {$1-(1-\nicefrac{1}{4})^{3}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-5) -- (m-1-5) node [above,midway,sloped,rotate=180] {\scriptsize$1-(1-2^{-k+1})^{c2^{k-1}}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-6) -- (m-1-6) node [above,midway,sloped,rotate=180] {$1-(1-2^{-k})^{c2^{k}}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-2) -- (m-2-1) node [below,midway] {$(1-\nicefrac{1}{2})^{2}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-3) -- (m-2-2) node [below,midway] {$(1-\nicefrac{1}{4})^{3}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-4) -- (m-2-3) node [below,midway] {$(1-\nicefrac{1}{8})^{12}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-5) -- (m-2-4) node [below,midway] {$(1\!-\!2^{-k\!+\!1})^{c2^{k\!-\!1}}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-6) -- (m-2-5) node [below,midway] {$(1-2^{-k})^{c2^{k}}$};
\foreach \x [count=\y] in {2,3,4,5,6}{
\draw[->] (m-1-\y) -- (m-1-\x) node [above,midway,sloped] {$\nicefrac{1}{2}$};
\draw[->] (m-1-\y) -- (m-2-\x) node [below,midway,sloped] {$\nicefrac{1}{2}$};
}
\end{tikzpicture}
\subcaption{Original Markov chain $N$.}
~\\
~\\
\end{subfigure}
\begin{subfigure}{\textwidth}
\centering
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=0.3, every node/.style={scale=0.7}]
\matrix (m) [matrix of nodes, row sep=5.5em, column sep=4.5em,
nodes={draw, rectangle, line width=1, text centered, minimum size=2em}]
{ $B_0$ & $B_1$ & $B_2$ &|[draw=none]| $\phantom{B_1}\dots\phantom{B_1}$ & $\!\!\!B_{k\!-\!1}\!\!\!$ & $B_{k}$ \\
$A_0$ & $A_1$ & $A_2$ &|[draw=none]| $\phantom{A_1}\dots\phantom{A_1}$ & $\!\!\!A_{k\!-\!1}\!\!\!$ & $A_{k}$ \\ };
\draw[->] (m-2-1) -- (m-1-1) node [above,midway,sloped] {$1$};
\draw[->] (m-2-2) -- (m-1-2) node [above,midway,sloped] {$1-e^{-c}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-3) -- (m-1-3) node [above,midway,sloped] {$1-e^{-c}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-5) -- (m-1-5) node [above,midway,sloped,rotate=180] {$1-e^{-c}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-6) -- (m-1-6) node [above,midway,sloped,rotate=180] {$1-e^{-c}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-2) -- (m-2-1) node [below,midway] {$e^{-c}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-3) -- (m-2-2) node [below,midway] {$e^{-c}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-4) -- (m-2-3) node [below,midway] {$e^{-c}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-5) -- (m-2-4) node [below,midway] {$e^{-c}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-6) -- (m-2-5) node [below,midway] {$e^{-c}$};
\foreach \x [count=\y] in {2,3,4,5,6}{
\draw[->] (m-1-\y) -- (m-1-\x) node [above,midway,sloped] {$\nicefrac{1}{2}$};
\draw[->] (m-1-\y) -- (m-2-\x) node [below,midway,sloped] {$\nicefrac{1}{2}$};
}
\end{tikzpicture}
\subcaption{Markov chain $\hat{N}(p,k)$ with homogenous transition probabilities $p = 1- e^{-c}$.}
\end{subfigure}
\caption{Markov chains modeling the expected number of hired applicants of
Algorithm~\ref{alg:multi_uniform2}.\label{fig:markov_b}}
\end{figure}
\begin{restatable}{lemma}{lemuniformhittingtimesecond}
Starting in state $A_0$ of Markov chain $N$, the expected number of transitions from an $A$-state to a $B$-state is at most
\label{lem:uniform_hitting_time_2}
\begin{align}
\label{eq:h}
h = \frac{kp}{3p-1} -\frac{4p(1-2p)}{(3p-1)^{2}} + \left(\frac{1-p}{3p-1}\right)^{\!\!2}\!\! \left( \frac{2(1-p)}{1+p}\right)^{\!\!k}
\end{align}
where $k = \lceil \log (n/c) \rceil -2$ and $p = 1-e^{-c}$.
\end{restatable}
\begin{proof}
Let $c= 3/4$, $k = \lceil \log(n/c) \rceil -2$, and $p = 1 - e^{-c}$. We again argue that we only overestimate the expected visiting times when considering Markov chain $\hat{N}(p,k)$ instead of $N$.
To see this, fix a state~$A_j$, $j=0,\dots,k$ and consider the stochastic process $N'$ that follows Markov chain $N$, but, the first time state~$A_j$ is visited, transitions according to the probabilities of $\hat{N}(p,k)$.
As in all stochastic processes we consider the expected number of visits of all states is decreasing in the index of the starting state $A_j$, the expected number of visits of all states are not smaller in $N'$ than in $N$. Iterating this argument, we conclude that the expected number of visits of all states in $N$ does not exceed those in $\hat{N}(p,k)$.
In Lemma~\ref{lem:markov_b_transitions1} in \S~\ref{sec:markov_b} we prove that the expected number of transitions from an $A$-state to a $B$-state of $\hat{N}(p,k)$ is bounded from above by \eqref{eq:h}.\hfill
\end{proof}
As every transition from an $A$-state to a $B$-state corresponds to the hiring of a candidate, bounding these transitions allows us to bound $\Ex{\textsc{Alg}_n}$. Together with the formula for $\Ex{\textsc{Opt}_n}$ proven in Lemma~\ref{lem:opt_uniform} we obtain an improved competitive ratio. Numerically, the choice $c=\notnicefrac{3}{4}$ yields optimizes the competitive ratio yielding a strict competitive ratio of $2.965$.
\begin{restatable}{theorem}{thmuniformimproved}
\label{thm:uniform_upper}
For $c=\notnicefrac{3}{4}$, Algorithm~\ref{alg:multi_uniform2} is strictly
$2.965$-competitive for uniform distributions.
\end{restatable}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
Whenever an applicant is hired, the Markov chain transitions from $A_{j}$ to $B_{j}$ for some value $j\in[k]$. The algorithm terminates at the latest when state $B_{k}$ is reached. We can thus bound the number of hired applicants by the expression $h$ of Lemma~\ref{lem:uniform_hitting_time_2}. Using Lemma~\ref{lem:opt_uniform} and the fact that the expected cost incurred by each hired applicant is $3c$ (and $2c$ for the last hiring), we get
\[
\frac{\Exp{\textsc{Alg}_n}}{\Exp{\textsc{Opt}_n}}\leq\frac{3hc-c}{\mathcal{H}_{n+1}-1}\leq 2.965,
\]
for $c=\notnicefrac{3}{4}$ and all $n$. See Lemma~\ref{lem:uniform_2.98} below for a proof of the last inequality. \hfill
\end{proof}
\newcommand{192}{192}
\begin{lemma}
\label{lem:uniform_2.98}
Let $c\!=\!\notnicefrac{3}{4}$, $p\!=\!1-e^{-c}$, $k\!=\!\lceil \log(\notnicefrac{n}{c})\rceil-2$, and
$h=\frac{kp}{3p-1} -\frac{4p(1-2p)}{(3p-1)^{2}} + \bigl(\frac{1-p}{3p-1}\bigr)^2 \bigl( \frac{2(1-p)}{1+p}\bigr)^{\!k}$. Then,
$\frac{3hc-c}{\mathcal{H}_{n+1}-1} \leq 2.965$ for all $n$.
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
Since the expression $3hc - c$ is constant as long as $k= \lceil \log (\notnicefrac{n}{c}) \rceil - 2 = \lceil \log(\notnicefrac{n}{3}) \rceil$ is constant, the ratio $\frac{3hc - c}{\mathcal{H}_{n+1}-1}$ is maximized for some $n$ of the form $n = 3\cdot 2^{\ell-1}+1$ with $\ell \in \mathbb{N}$. See also Figure~\ref{fig:plots} where the ratio is plotted as a function of $n$. The claim of the lemma is easily verified for $\ell =1,\dots,6$. For $\ell \geq 7$, we obtain
\begin{align}
h &= \frac{\ell p}{3p-1} -\frac{4p(1-2p)}{(3p-1)^{2}} + \left(\frac{1-p}{3p-1}\right)^{\!\!2} \cdot\left( \frac{2(1-p)}{1+p}\right)^{\!\!\ell} \notag \\[6pt]
&\le \frac{\ell p}{3p-1} -\frac{4p(1-2p)}{(3p-1)^{2}} + \left(\frac{1-p}{3p-1}\right)^{\!\!2} \cdot\left( \frac{2(1-p)}{1+p}\right)^{\!\!7} \label{eq:put_in_p}\\[6pt]
&< \frac{\ell p}{3p-1} + \frac{1}{e}, \notag
\end{align}
where for the first inequality we used that for $p = 1 - e^{-3/4}$ we have $2(1-p)/(1+p) = 2/(2e^{3/4}-1)\approx 0.618 < 1$ and for the second inequality we evaluated \eqref{eq:put_in_p} for $p= 1- e^{-3/4}$.
\iffalse
To keep the proof short we prove the claim only for $n\ge 192$.
For smaller $n$ the claim can be checked empirically.
First, observe that $k\ge 7$ for all $n\ge 192$. Also $k=\lceil \log(\nicefrac{n}{3})\rceil= \lceil \log(\nicefrac{2n}{3})-1\rceil \le \log(\nicefrac{2n}{3})$%
. Since $p>\frac{1}{2}$ we can upper bound
\begin{align*}
h &= \frac{kp}{3p-1} -\frac{4p(1-2p)}{(3p-1)^{2}} + \left(\frac{1-p}{3p-1}\right)^{\!\!2} \cdot\left( \frac{2(1-p)}{1+p}\right)^{\!\!k}\\[6pt]
&\le \lceil \log(\nicefrac{n}{3})\rceil \, \frac{p}{3p-1} -\frac{4p(1-2p)}{(3p-1)^{2}} + \left(\frac{1-p}{3p-1}\right)^{\!\!2} \cdot\left( \frac{2(1-p)}{1+p}\right)^{\!\!7}\\[6pt]
&< \lceil \log(\nicefrac{n}{3})\rceil \, \frac{p}{3p-1} + \frac{1}{e}
\end{align*}
\fi
For the Euler-Mascheroni constant $\gamma \approx 0.577$ we obtain
\begin{align}
\frac{3hc-c}{\mathcal{H}_{3\cdot 2^{\ell-1}+2}-1}
&<
\frac{\frac{9}{4} \bigl(\frac{\ell p}{3p-1} + \frac{1}{e}\bigr)-\frac{3}{4}}
{\ln(3\cdot 2^{\ell-1}+2) - (1 - \gamma)} \notag\\[6pt]
&\leq \frac{\frac{9}{4} \bigl(\frac{\ell p}{3p-1} + \frac{1}{e}\bigr)-\frac{3}{4}}
{\ell \ln(2) + \ln(3) - \ln(2) - (1 - \gamma)},\label{eq:complicated_expression}
\end{align}
where we used that the denominator is positive.
Using that $\ln(3) - \ln(2) - (1- \gamma) \approx -0.017 < 0$, elementary calculus shows that the expression in \eqref{eq:complicated_expression} is decreasing in $\ell$.
Evaluating it for $\ell=7$ we obtain
\begin{align*}
\frac{3hc-c}{\mathcal{H}_{3\cdot 2^{\ell-1}+2}-1} \leq 2.965,
\end{align*}
as claimed. \hfill
\end{proof}
\subsection{Analytical Lower Bound}
\label{sec:lower_bound}
To obtain a lower bound on the competitive ratio of any online algorithm, we study in this section a relaxation of the problem. The relaxation allows to exploit an interesting connection to the classical stopping problem with uniformly distributed random variables which is known under the name \emph{Cayley-Moser problem}, see \citet{moser1956,GilbertMosteller/66}.
Consider the relaxation where we are allowed to hire an applicant for \emph{any} (not necessarily contiguous) subset of all future time steps, while still having to decide on this set immediately upon arrival of the applicant.
In this setting, there is obviously no advantage of concurrent employment --- once we hired an applicant for some time slot, there is no benefit of hiring additional applicants for the same time slot.
Put differently, the decision whether to hire an applicant for some time slot is independent of the decision for other time slots.
Thus, the problem reduces to simultaneously solve a stopping problem for each time slot $t$. That is, we need to hire exactly one of the first $t$ applicants for this time slot, while applicants appear one by one and we need to irrevocably hire or discard each applicant upon their arrival. By linearity of expectation, each of the $n$ stopping problems can be treated individually.
Gilbert and Mosteller~\cite{GilbertMosteller/66} showed that, in the maximization version of the single stopping problem with uniformly distributed values, the optimal stopping rule is a threshold rule parametrized by $t$ thresholds $\tau_0,\dots,\tau_{t-1}$. The rule stops at a time step when there are $i$ remaining (unobserved) random variables and the realization is above $\tau_i$. The threshold values follow the recursion $\tau_0 = 0$ and $\tau_{i+1} = (1+\tau_{i}^2)/2$ for all $i \geq 1$. Gilbert and Mosteller showed that the value $\tau_t$ is also the expected revenue for the stopping problem with $t$ slots.when following the optimal strategy. They bound the expected revenue for all $t$ by
$$\tau_t \geq 1 - \frac{2}{t + \ln(t+1) + 1.767}.$$
By symmetry of the uniform distribution, for the corresponding single stopping problem with uniformly distributed costs and minimization objective, this immediately yields that the optimum expected cost~$1-\tau_t$ is lower bounded by
$h(t) := \frac{2}{t + \ln(t+1) + 1.767}$.
Since we need to solve a stopping problem for each time slot $1,2,\dots,n$, and by linearity of expectation, we get a lower bound on the expected cost of $\sum_{t=1}^{n} h(t)$ for the relaxed problem.
On the other hand, by Lemma~\ref{lem:opt_uniform}, for the offline optimum of our original problem, we have $\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{x_1 \sim U[0,1],\dots,x_n \sim U[0,1]} \bigl[\textsc{Opt}_{n}\bigr] = \sum_{t=1}^{n} g(t) := \sum_{t=1}^{n} \frac{1}{1+t}$.
Since $h(t)$ and $g(t)$ are both monotonically decreasing, we can estimate $\sum_{t=1}^{n} h(t) \geq \int_1^{n+1} h(t) \,\mathrm{d}t$ and $\sum_{t=1}^{n} g(t) \leq \int_0^{n} g(t) \,\mathrm{d}t$.
Also, since both integrals tend to infinity for growing~$n$, we can apply
l'H\^opital's rule and obtain
\begin{align*}
\lim_{n \to \infty} \frac{\sum_{t=1}^{n} h(t)}{\sum_{t=1}^{n} g(t)}
&\geq \lim_{n \to \infty} \frac{\int_{1}^{n+1} h(t) \,\mathrm{d}t}{\int_{0}^{n} g(t) \,\mathrm{d}t} \\
&= \lim_{n \to \infty} \frac{h(n+1)}{g(n)} \\
&= \lim_{n \to \infty} \frac{2(n+1)}{n+1+\log(n+2)+1.767} = 2.
\end{align*}
As $\sum_{t=1}^{n} h(t)$ is the expected cost of an optimum online solution to the relaxed problem, it is a lower bound on the expected cost of an optimum online solution to the original problem, and we get the following bound.
\begin{theorem}
Asymptotically, for a uniform distribution, no online algorithm has a competitive ratio below~$2$.
\end{theorem}
A plot of the lower bound $\frac{\sum_{t=1}^n h(t)}{H_{n+1}-1}$ as a function of $n$ shown in Figure~\ref{fig:plots} reveals that the lower bound converges very slowly. Even for $n=10,000$, the lower bound is still below $9/5$.
\subsection{Computational Lower Bound}
In this section, we give a computational lower bound based on an optimal online algorithm for uniformly distributed costs. This gives a slightly higher lower bound than the analytical bound above. We implemented the
optimal online algorithm presented in \S~\ref{sec:dp} in exact arithmetic, using
rounding to prevent numbers from getting too large. The algorithm achieves a
competitive ratio of 2.148 for an instance with 10,000 time steps, see Figure~\ref{fig:plots}. We describe the details on the computational lower bound in the following paragraphs.
\iffalse
\subsubsection{Description of an Optimal Online Algorithm}
Let $C(i, j)$ denote the expected overall cost if there are $i$
time steps remaining, and if the next $j$ time steps are already covered by an existing
contract. As a boundary condition, we have that $C(i, i) = 0$ for all $i$, since
in this case no further applicants need to be hired.
Now suppose that $C(i', j')$ has already been computed for all $i' < i$ and all
$j' \le i'$. First we describe how to compute $C(i, 0)$.
Suppose that we draw an
applicant costing $x$. Since there are no existing contracts, we
must hire this applicant for at least one day, and we will obviously hire this
applicant for at most $i$ time steps. If we hire the applicant for $r$ time steps, our
overall cost will be $r \cdot x + C(i-1, r-1)$. Thus, the optimal cost for an
applicant costing $x$ can be written as:
\begin{align*}
\min_{1 \le r \le i}\Bigl( r \cdot x + C(i-1, r-1) \Bigr)
\end{align*}
Therefore, we have
\begin{align}
\label{eqn:dynamic0}
C(i, 0) = \int_{0}^{\infty} \min_{1 \le r \le i}\Bigl( r \cdot x + C(i-1,
r-1) \Bigr) \cdot f(x) \, \normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x.
\end{align}
Now we suppose that $C(i, j)$ has been computed and we describe how to compute
$C(i, j+1)$. The analysis is similar to the one above, but in this case we are
also able to refuse the applicant and wait one day. The cost of waiting one day
is given by $C(i-1, j)$, so we get the following expression:
\begin{align}
\label{eqn:dynamicj}
C(i, j+1) = \int_{0}^{\infty} \min\Biggl( C(i-1, j), \min_{1 \le r \le
i}\Bigl( r \cdot x + C(i-1, r-1) \Bigr)\Biggr) \cdot f(x) \, \normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x
\end{align}
If $C(i, j)$ has been computed for all $i \le n$ and all $j \le i$, then there
is a straightforward online algorithm that achieves expected cost $C(n, 0)$.
This algorithm simply waits for the cost $x$ of each applicant to be revealed,
and then chooses the action that minimizes the expression in the above
equations.
\fi
\begin{figure}
\begin{subfigure}[c]{0.495\textwidth}
\centering
\includegraphics[scale=0.65]{secretary-plot2-eps-converted-to}
\subcaption{$n=1,\dots,100$}
\end{subfigure}
\begin{subfigure}[c]{0.495\textwidth}
\centering
\psfrag{2}{$2000$}
\includegraphics[scale=0.65]{secretary-plot-eps-converted-to}
\subcaption{$n=1,\dots,10,000$}
\end{subfigure}
\caption{Competitive ratio of our algorithm (orange), and the optimal online algorithm (blue) for uniformly distributed cost. The lower bound via the Gilbert-Mosteller problem is shown in green.\label{fig:plots}}
\end{figure}
For the uniform distribution, we know from Lemma~\ref{lem:opt_uniform} that the optimal offline
algorithm has expected cost $\mathcal{H}_{n+1} - 1$. On the other hand, the entry $C(n, 0)$ in the dynamic programming table
of the optimal online algorithm gives the optimal cost for an instance with $n$
days.
Therefore, for every $n >
0$ the ratio $\frac{C(n, 0)}{\mathcal{H}_{n+1} - 1}$ provides a lower bound on the
best strict competitive ratio achievable by any online algorithm.
We implemented the optimal online algorithm for
the uniform case, and computed the expression above for increasing
values of $n$.
In order to obtain a conclusive proof, one needs to implement the
algorithm in exact rational arithmetic. However, in doing so, we found that the size of the numerators and denominators grow very quickly in $n$, and already for $n=22$
both the numerator and the denominator have over a million digits. This makes it computationally
intractable to compute $\frac{C(n, 0)}{\mathcal{H}_{n+1} - 1}$ for large $n$.
To address this, we adopted a rounding scheme: after computing $C(i, j)$ for some
$i$ and $j$, we rounded the number down to another rational with a smaller
numerator and denominator, and then stored the rounded number in the dynamic
programming table. Since we only ever round down, the resulting costs computed
by the algorithm must always be cheaper than the expected cost of the optimal
online algorithm. Therefore, the computed value of $\frac{C(n,
0)}{\mathcal{H}_{n+1} - 1}$ is still a lower bound on the strict competitive
ratio that can be achieved.
Ultimately, we found that for $n=10,000$ the competitive ratio can be no better
than~$2.148$.
The following theorem summarizes the results.
\begin{restatable}{theorem}{thmlowerbound}
For a uniform distribution, no online algorithm has strict competitive ratio below~$2.148$.\label{thm:lower_bound}
\end{restatable}
\section{Arbitrary Distributions}\label{arbitrary_distributions}
\begin{algorithm}[tb]
\caption{A $6.052$ competitive algorithm for arbitrary distributions.\label{alg:arb_dist}}
$q \leftarrow 1$ \tcp*[r]{threshold quantile index}
$\ensuremath{\tau} \leftarrow \delta_q$ \tcp*[r]{threshold cost}
$t \leftarrow 1$ \tcp*[r]{time with threshold}
\For{$i \leftarrow 1, \dots, n$ }{
$t \leftarrow t-1$\,\,\;
\If{$x_i \le \ensuremath{\tau}$}{
\While{$x_i \le \ensuremath{\tau}$}{
$q \leftarrow \notnicefrac{q}{2}$; $\ensuremath{\tau} \leftarrow \delta_q$\,\,\;
}
\If{$i + \nicefrac{2}{q} > n$}{
hire applicant~$i$ until time $n$\,\,\;
{\bf stop}\,\,\;
}
hire applicant $i$ for $\notnicefrac{2}{q}$ time steps\,\,\;
$t \leftarrow \notnicefrac{1}{q}$\,\,\;
}
\ElseIf{$t=0$}{
$q \leftarrow 2q$; $\ensuremath{\tau} \leftarrow \delta_q$; $t \leftarrow \notnicefrac{1}{q}$\,\,\;
}
}
\end{algorithm}
In this section, we generalize Algorithm~\ref{alg:multi_uniform2} for the choice of $c=1$ to an arbitrary
distribution $X$ (cf.~Algorithm~\ref{alg:arb_dist}). Whenever
we halve our threshold in the course of Algorithm~\ref{alg:multi_uniform2},
we essentially halve the probability mass of $X$ below the
threshold (i.e., the probability that a drawn value lies below $\ensuremath{\tau}$).
To achieve the same effect with respect to an arbitrary distribution $X$, we consider \emph{quantiles}
$\delta_{q}$ of $X$, defined by the property that $\Prob{x\leq \delta_q}=q$ for continuous
distributions\footnote{In general, we need to define $\delta_{q}$ more carefully
via $\Prob{x\leq \delta_q}\geq q$ and $\Prob{x\geq\delta_{q}}\geq1-q$.}.
Algorithm~\ref{alg:arb_dist} changes the threshold by halving
and doubling $q$ and using $\ensuremath{\tau}=\delta_{q}$, which results in the
same behavior as Algorithm~\ref{alg:multi_uniform2} when $X$
is uniform. Therefore we can in principle analyze the algorithm for general distributions using a Markov chain similar to that in \S~\ref{sec:uniform2}. Specifically, the Markov chain again governs the evolution of the value $q = 2^{-j}$, $j=0,1,2,\dots$ and the corresponding threshold value $\tau = \delta_q$ in the course of Algorithm~\ref{alg:arb_dist}. After finding an applicant with a cost~$x_i$ below the threshold value $\tau$, the value of $q$ is halved until $\delta_q < x_i \leq \delta_{q-1}$. Since the applicant is then hired for $2/q$ time steps where $q$ is the value after the halving, we conclude that when hiring an applicant below the threshold of $\delta_q$ it is hired for $4/q$ time units.
As the process stops at the latest when $4/q \geq n$, the Markov chain~$N'$ has states $A_0, A_1, \dots, A_k$ and $B_0, B_1, \dots, B_k$ with $k=\lceil\log n\rceil-2$, see Figure~\ref{fig:markov_arbitrary}.
\begin{figure}[bt]
\centering
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=0.3, every node/.style={scale=0.7}]
\matrix (m) [matrix of nodes, row sep=5.5em, column sep=4.5em,
nodes={draw, rectangle, line width=1, text centered, minimum size=2em}]
{ $B_0$ & $B_1$ & $B_2$ &|[draw=none]| $\phantom{B_1}\dots\phantom{B_1}$ & $\!\!\!B_{k\!-\!1}\!\!\!$ & $B_{k}$ \\
$A_0$ & $A_1$ & $A_2$ &|[draw=none]| $\phantom{A_1}\dots\phantom{A_1}$ & $\!\!\!A_{k\!-\!1}\!\!\!$ & $A_{k}$ \\ };
\draw[->] (m-2-1) -- (m-1-1) node [above,midway,sloped] {$1$};
\draw[->] (m-2-2) -- (m-1-2) node [above,midway,sloped] {$1-(1-\nicefrac{1}{2})^{2}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-3) -- (m-1-3) node [above,midway,sloped] {$1-(1-\nicefrac{1}{4})^{4}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-5) -- (m-1-5) node [above,midway,sloped,rotate=180] {\scriptsize$1-(1-2^{-k+1})^{2^{k-1}}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-6) -- (m-1-6) node [above,midway,sloped,rotate=180] {$1-(1-2^{-k})^{2^{k}}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-2) -- (m-2-1) node [below,midway] {$(1-\nicefrac{1}{2})^{2}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-3) -- (m-2-2) node [below,midway] {$(1-\nicefrac{1}{4})^{4}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-4) -- (m-2-3) node [below,midway] {$(1-\nicefrac{1}{8})^{8}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-5) -- (m-2-4) node [below,midway] {$(1\!-\!2^{-k\!+\!1})^{2^{k\!-\!1}}$};
\draw[->] (m-2-6) -- (m-2-5) node [below,midway] {$(1-2^{-k})^{2^{k}}$};
\foreach \x [count=\y] in {2,3,4,5,6}{
\draw[->] (m-1-\y) -- (m-1-\x) node [above,midway,sloped] {$\nicefrac{1}{2}$};
\draw[->] (m-1-\y) -- (m-2-\x) node [below,midway,sloped] {$\nicefrac{1}{2}$};
}
\end{tikzpicture}
\caption{Markov chain $N'$ modeling the expected number of hired applicants of
Algorithm~\ref{alg:arb_dist}.\label{fig:markov_arbitrary}}
\end{figure}
Again, we start in state $A_0$, $B_k$ is the absorbing state, and states $A_j,B_j$ correspond to states of the algorithm where $\ensuremath{\tau}=\delta_{2^{-j}}$. The transition probability from any state $A_j$ to state
$B_j$ is bounded from below by $p=1-\nicefrac{1}{e}$, since the probability of not finding any applicant of cost at most~$\delta_q$ within $1/q$ steps is
\begin{align*}
1-\P[x>\delta_{q}]^{1/q} = 1-(1-\P[x\leq\delta_{q}])^{1/q} \geq 1-(1-q)^{1/q} \geq 1-\nicefrac{1}{e}.
\end{align*}
The analysis of the algorithm for arbitrary distributions, however, turns out to be more intricate than for the uniform case for two main reasons.
First, for uniform distributions it was sufficient to count the total number of transitions from an $A$-state to a $B$-state as any such transition corresponds to the hiring of a candidate with a total cost of $2$.
On the other hand, for general distributions we need to bound the number of transitions from state $B_j$ to state $A_{j+1}$ for each $j$ individually, as the resulting costs may differ among the different values of $j$.
The following lemma provides a bound independent of~$j$.
\begin{restatable}{lemma}{lemuniformtransitions}
Starting in state $A_0$ of Markov chain $N'$, for each $j\in\{0, \ldots, k-1\}$ the expected number of transitions from $B_j$ to $A_{j+1}$ is at most $\frac{p}{3p-1}$, where $p = 1-\nicefrac{1}{e}$.
\label{lem:uniform_transitions}
\end{restatable}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
With the same arguments as in the proof of Lemma~\ref{lem:uniform_hitting_time_2}, we obtain an upper bound on the expected number of transitions from $B_j$ to $A_{j+1}$ by considering the Markov chain $\hat{N}(p,k)$ with homogenous transition probability $p = 1 - \nicefrac{1}{e}$ and $k = \lceil \log n \rceil -2$. For the latter Markov chain, Lemma~\ref{lem:markov_b_transitions2} proven in \S~\ref{sec:markov_b} establishes the result.\hfill
\end{proof}
The second main issue when analyzing the competitive ratio of the algorithm is the lack of a concrete value for $\textsc{Opt}_n$ for general distributions. Thus, we need the following lemma that expresses $\mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[\textsc{Opt}_n]$ as a sum over conditional expectations of the form $\mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[ x \,|\, \delta_{2^{-(r+1)}} < x \leq \delta_{2^{-r}}\bigr]$.
\begin{restatable}{lemma}{lemarbdistofflineopt}
\label{lem:arb_dist_offline_opt}
Let $n \in \mathbb{N}$, $k \!=\! \lceil \log n\rceil \!-\! 2$ and $\eta := \frac{5}{2} - \frac{55}{6e^2} \approx 1.259$.
Then, we have
$$
\mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[\textsc{Opt}_n \bigr]
\geq \sum_{r=0}^{k-1} 2^{r-1} \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[x \,\big|\, \delta_{2^{-(r+1)}} < x \leq \delta_{2^{-r}}\bigr] + \eta 2^{k-1}\mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[x \,\big|\, x\leq \delta_{2^{-k}} \bigr].
$$
\end{restatable}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
By linearity of expectation $\mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[\textsc{Opt}_n\bigr] = \sum_{i \in [n]} \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[\min \{x_1,\dots,x_i\} \bigr]$ where for $i \in [n]$ the random variables $x_1,\dots,x_i$ are drawn independently from $X$. To prove the claim we proceed to express for fixed $i \in [n]$ the expectation $\mbox{\rm\bf E}[\min\{x_1,\dots,x_i\}]$ in terms of $\mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[ x \,\big|\, x \leq \delta_{2^{-k}}\bigr]$ and $\mbox{\rm\bf E}[x \,|\, \delta_{2^{-(r+1)}} < x \leq \delta_{2^{-r}}]$ with $r \in \{0,\dots,k-1\}$. To this end, for $i \in [n]$ and $r \in \{0,\dots,k-1\}$ let
\begin{align*}
E_{i,r,=1} &= \Bigl[\bigl| \{x_1,\dots,x_i\} \cap (\delta_{2^{-(r+1)}},\delta_{2^{-r}}]\bigr| = 1 \text{ and } \bigl|\{x_1,\dots,x_i\} \cap (\delta_{2^{-(r+1)}},\delta_1]\bigr| = i\Bigr]
\intertext{be the stochastic event that the minimum of the $i$ draws $x_1\sim X,\dots,x_i\sim X$ is in the interval $(\delta_{2^{-(r+1)}},\delta_{2^{-r}}]$ and none of the other $i-1$ draws is in that interval. Additionally, let}
E_{i,k,=1} &= \Bigl[\bigl| \{x_1,\dots,x_i\} \cap [0,\delta_{2^{-k}}]\bigr| = 1\Bigr].
\intertext{Further, for $r \in \{0,\dots,k-1\}$, let}
E_{i,r,>1} &= \Bigl[\bigl| \{x_1,\dots,x_i\} \cap (\delta_{2^{-(r+1)}},\delta_{2^{-r}}]\bigr| > 1 \text{ and } \bigl|\{x_1,\dots,x_i\} \cap (\delta_{2^{-(r+1)}},\delta_1]\bigr| = i\Bigr]
\intertext{be the stochastic event that the minimum of the $i$ draws $x_1\sim X,\dots,x_i\sim X$ is in the interval $(\delta_{2^{-(r+1)}},\delta_{2^{-r}}]$ and at least one of the other $i-1$ draws is in that interval. Similarly, let}
E_{i,k,>1} &= \Bigl[\bigl| \{x_1,\dots,x_i\} \cap [0,\delta_{2^{-k}}]\bigr| > 1\Bigr].
\end{align*}
For fixed $i$ the events $E_{i,r,=1}$ and $E_{i,r,>1}$ for $r \in \{0,\dots,k\}$ are clearly disjoint. Since~$\sum_{r=0}^{k}(\P[E_{i,r,=1}]+\P[E_{i,r,>1}])=1$, by the law of total expectation, we have
\begin{align*}
\mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[\min\{x_1,\dots,x_i\}\bigr] &= \sum_{r=0}^{k} \Bigl( \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[\min\{x_1,\dots,x_i\} \,\big|\, E_{i,r,=1}\bigr] \P\bigl[E_{i,r,=1}\bigr]\\
&\quad + \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[\min\{x_1,\dots,x_i\} \,\big|\, E_{i,r,>1}\bigr] \P\bigl[E_{i,r,>1}\bigr] \Bigr).
\end{align*}
We observe that $\mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[\min\{x_1,\dots,x_i\} \,\big|\, E_{i,r,=1}\bigr] = \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[x \,\big|\, \delta_{2^{-(r+1)}} < x \leq \delta_{2^{-r}}\bigr]$ for all $r \in \{0,\dots,k-1\}$ and, similarly, $\mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[ \min\{x_1\dots,x_i\} \, \big|\, E_{i,k,=1}\bigr] = \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[x \,\big|\, x \leq \delta_{2^{-k}}\bigr]$. In addition, we have $\mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[\min\{x_1,\dots,x_i\} \,\big|\, E_{i,r,>1}\bigr] \geq \delta_{2^{-(r+1)}} \geq \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[x \,\big|\, \delta_{2^{-(r+2)}} < x \leq \delta_{2^{-(r+1)}}\bigr]$ for all $r \in \{0,\dots,k-1\}$. We then obtain
\begin{align*}
\mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[\min\{x_1,\dots,x_i\}\bigr] &\geq \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[x \,\big|\, \delta_{2^{-1}} < x \leq \delta_{1}\bigr] \P\bigl[E_{i,0,=1}\bigr]\\[6pt]
&\quad + \sum_{r=1}^{k-1} \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[x \,\big|\, \delta_{2^{-(r+1)}} \!<\! x \!\leq\! \delta_{2^{-r}}\bigr] \bigl(\P\bigl[ E_{i,r,=1}\bigr] \!+\! \P\bigl[ E_{i,r-1,>1}\bigr] \bigr)\\[6pt]
&\quad + \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[ x \,\big|\, x \leq \delta_{2^{-k}} \bigr] (\P\bigl[ E_{i,k,=1} \bigr] + \P\bigl[ E_{i,k-1,>1} \bigr]),
\end{align*}
and hence
\begin{align*}
\mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[\textsc{Opt}_n\bigr] &\geq \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[x \,\big|\, \delta_{2^{-1}} < x \leq \delta_{1}\bigr] \sum_{i=1}^n \P\bigl[E_{i,0,=1}\bigr]\\[6pt]
&\quad + \sum_{r=1}^{k-1} \Biggl( \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[x \,\big|\, \delta_{2^{-(r+1)}} < x \leq \delta_{2^{-r}}\bigr] \sum_{i=1}^n \Bigl( \P\bigl[ E_{i,r,=1}\bigr] + \P\bigl[ E_{i,r-1,>1}\bigr] \Bigr) \Biggr) \\[6pt]
&\quad + \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[ x \,\big|\, x \leq \delta_{2^{-k}} \bigr] \sum_{i=1}^n \Bigl(\P\bigl[ E_{i,k,=1} \bigr] + \P\bigl[ E_{i,k-1,>1} \bigr] \Bigr).
\end{align*}
The probability that a single draw falls in the range~$(\delta_{2^{-(r+1)}}, \delta_{2^{-r}}]$ and $i-1$ draws are larger than $\delta_{2^{-r}}$ is $2^{-(r+1)}(1-2^{-r})^{i-1}$.
Since there are~$i$ possibilities which of the draws falls in this range, we have
\begin{align*}
\P\bigl[ E_{i,r,=1}\bigr] &=
\begin{cases}
0 & \text{ if $r=0$ and $i>1$}\\
1/2 & \text{ if $r=0$ and $i=1$ }\\
i 2^{-(r+1)}(1-2^{-r})^{i-1} & \text{ if $r \in \{1,\dots,k-1\}$ }\\
i2^{-r}(1-2^{-r})^{i-1} & \text{ if $r=k$. }
\end{cases}
\intertext{Similarly, for $r \in \{1,\dots,k\}$, we have}
\P \bigl[ E_{i,r-1,>1} \bigr]
&= (1-2^{-r})^i - (1-2^{-(r-1)})^i - \P\bigl[E_{i,r-1,=1}\bigr]\\[6pt]
&= (1-2^{-r})^i - (1-2^{-(r-1)})^i - i2^{-r}(1-2^{-(r-1)})^{i-1}.
\end{align*}
We then obtain
\begin{align*}
\mbox{\rm\bf E}[\textsc{Opt}_n\bigr] &\geq \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[x \,\big|\, \delta_{2^{-1}} < x \leq \delta_{1} \bigr] \cdot 2^{-1} \\[6pt]
&\quad + \sum_{r =1}^{k-1} \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[x \,\big|\, \delta_{2^{-(r+1)}} < x \leq \delta_{2^{-r}}\bigr]\cdot \alpha(r,n)\\[6pt]
&\quad + \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[ x \, \big|\, x \leq \delta_{2^{-k}} \bigr] \cdot \alpha(k,n)
\end{align*}
with
\begin{align}
\alpha(r,n) &= \sum_{i =1}^n \Bigl( \P\bigl[ E_{i,r,=1} \bigr] + \P\bigl[ E_{i,r-1,>1} \bigr] \Bigr).
\end{align}
It remains to show that $\alpha(r,n) \geq 2^{r-1}$ for $1\leq r <k$ and $\alpha(k,n) \geq \eta 2^{k-1}$. We have
\begin{align}
\alpha(k,n) &= \sum_{i =1}^n \Bigl( \P\bigl[ E_{i,r,=1} \bigr] + \P\bigl[ E_{i,r-1,>1} \bigr] \Bigr) \label{eq:alpha}
\intertext{which gives} \notag
\alpha(r,n) &= \sum_{i=1}^n i 2^{-r}(1\!-\!2^{-r})^{i\!-\!1} + (1\!-\!2^{-r})^i - (1\!-\!2^{-(r-1)})^i - i2^{-r}(1\!-\!2^{-(r-1)})^{i\!-\!1}
\intertext{if $r=k$, and}
\alpha(r,n) &= \sum_{i=1}^n i 2^{-(r+1)}(1\!-\!2^{-r})^{i\!-\!1} + (1\!-\!2^{-r})^i - (1\!-\!2^{-(r-1)})^i - i2^{-r}(1\!-\!2^{-(r-1)})^{i\!-\!1}\notag
\end{align}
for $r\neq k$.
To prove the lemma, we proceed to show that $\inf_{n \in \mathbb{N}} \inf_{r \in \{0,\dots,\lceil \log n \rceil -3\}} \frac{\alpha(r,n)}{2^{r-1}} \geq 1$ and $\inf_{n \in \mathbb{N}} \frac{\alpha(\lceil \log n\rceil -2,n)}{2^{\lceil \log n\rceil -3}} \geq \eta$.
Differentiating the well-known formula for the geometric sum $\sum_{i=1}^n a^i = \frac{a-a^{n+1}}{1-a}$, we obtain $\sum_{i=1}^n i a^{i-1} = \frac{na^{n+1} - (n+1)a^n + 1}{(1-a)^2}$. We use both formulas to simplify all partial sums. For a binary event~$E$, we denote by $\chi_E$ the indicator variable for event $E$, i.e., $\chi_E = 1$ if $E$ is true, and $\chi_E = 0$, otherwise. For $r \in \{1,\dots,k\}$, we then obtain
\begin{align*}
\alpha(r,n) &= (1 + \chi_{r=k})2^{r-1} \bigl[n(1-2^{-r})^{n+1} - (n+1) (1-2^{-r})^n +1\bigr]\\
&\quad + 2^r\bigl[1-2^{-r} - (1-2^{-r})^{n+1}\bigr]\\
& \quad - 2^{r-1}\bigl[1-2^{-(r-1)}\!- (1-2^{-(r-1)})^{n+1}\bigr]\\
&\quad - 2^{r-2}\bigl[n(1-2^{-(r-1)})^{n+1} - (n+1)(1-2^{-(r-1)})^n +1\bigr]\\[6pt]
&= 2^{r-1} \Biggl[ (1+\chi_{r=k})\Bigl(n(1-2^{-r})^{n+1} - (n+1) (1-2^{-r})^n + 1\Bigr)\\
&\quad + 2 - 2^{-(r-1)} - 2(1-2^{-r})^{n+1}\\
&\quad - 1 + 2^{-(r-1)} + (1-2^{-(r-1)})^{n+1}\\
&\quad - \frac{n}{2}(1-2^{-(r-1)})^{n+1} + \frac{n+1}{2}(1-2^{-(r-1)})^n - \frac{1}{2}\Biggr]\\[6pt]
&= 2^{r-1}\Biggl[\frac{3}{2} +\chi_{r=k}\\
&\quad + (1-2^{-r})^n \biggl(n(1+\chi_{r=k})(1-2^{-r}) - (n+1)(1+\chi_{r=k})- 2(1-2^{-r})\biggr)\\
&\quad + (1-2^{-(r-1)})^n \biggl( (1-2^{-(r-1)}) - \frac{n}{2}(1-2^{-(r-1)})+ \frac{n+1}{2}\biggr)\Biggr]\\[6pt]
&= 2^{r-1} \biggl[\frac{3}{2} + \chi_{r=k} + (1-2^{-r})^n(2^{-(r-1)} - n2^{-r}(1+ \chi_{r=k}) - 3 - \chi_{r=k})\\[6pt]
&\quad + (1-2^{-(r-1)})^n \biggl( \frac{3}{2} +n2^{-r}-2^{-(r-1)} \biggr) \biggr]\\[6pt]
&= 2^{r-1} \biggl[ \frac{3}{2} + \chi_{r=k} +\biggl((1-2^{-r})^n - (1-2^{-(r-1)})^n\biggr) \biggl(2^{-(r-1)} - n2^{-r} - \frac{3}{2}\biggr)\\[6pt]
&\quad - \biggl(\frac{3}{2}+\chi_{r=k}(1+n2^{-r})\biggr)(1-2^{-r})^n \biggr].
\end{align*}
\iffalse
It remains to show that $$\beta(r,n) := \frac{3}{2} + \biggl((1 - 2^{-r})^n - (1-2^{-(r-1)})^n\biggr) \biggl(2^{-(r-1)} - n2^{-r} - \frac{3}{2} \biggr) -\frac{3}{2}(1 - 2^{-r})^n \geq 1$$ for all $\n \in
\mathbb{N}$ and $r \in \{1,\dots,\lceil \log n \rceil -3\}$. We first show that $\beta(r,n)$ is increasing in $n$. To show this, we compute
\begin{align}
\beta(r,n+1) &= (1-2^{-r})^{n+1}\biggl(2^{-(r-1)} - (n+1)2^{-r}-3\biggr) + (1-2^{-(r-1)})^{n+1}\biggl(\frac{3}{2} + (n+1) 2^{-r} - 2^{-(r-1)} \biggr)\notag\\[6pt]
&= (1-2^{-r})^{n+1}\biggl(2^{-(r-1)} - n2^{-r}-3 -2^{-r}\biggr) + (1-2^{-(r-1)})^{n+1}\biggl(\frac{3}{2} + n2^{-r} - 2^{-(r-1)} +2^{-r}\biggr)\notag\\[6pt]
&= \beta(r,n) -2^{-r}(1 \!-\! 2^{-r})^n\biggl(2^{-(r-1)} \!-\! n2^{-r} \!-\! 3\biggr) - 2^{-(r-1)}(1\!-\!2^{-(r-1)})^n\biggl(\frac{3}{2} \!+\! n2^{-r} \!-\! 2^{-(r-1)}\biggr)\notag\\[6pt]
&\quad - 2^{-r}(1-2^{-r})^{n+1} + 2^{-r}(1-2^{-(r-1)})^{n+1}\notag\\[6pt]
&= \beta(r,n) + 2^{-r} \Bigl[(1-2^{-r})^n \Bigl(3+n2^{-r}-2^{-(r-1)}-1+2^{-r}\Bigr)\notag\\[6pt]
&\quad - (1-2^{-(r-1)})^n \Bigl(3+n2^{-(r-1)}-2^{-(r-2)}-1+2^{-(r-1)}\Bigr)\Bigr]\\[6pt]
&= \beta(r,n) + 2^{-r} \Bigl[(1-2^{-r})^n(2+n2^{-r}-2^{-r}\Bigr) - (1-2^{-(r-1)})^n \Bigl(2+n2^{-(r-1)}-\cdot 2^{-{r-1}}\Bigr)\Bigr]\notag\\[6pt]
&= \beta(r,n) + 2^{-r} \Bigl[ \Bigl((1\!-\!2^{-r})^n-(1\!-\!2^{-(r-1)})^n\Bigr)\Bigl(2\!+\!n2^{-r}\!-\!2^{-r}\Bigr) - (1\!-\!2^{-(r-1)})^{\!n}\Bigl(n2^{-r} \!-\! 2^{-r}\Bigr)\Bigr].\nota
\intertext{Using that for any convex function~$g(x)$ and~$x_1 < x_2$ we have
$\frac{g(x_2)-g(x_1)}{x_2 - x_1} \geq g'(x_1)$, we get (for~$g(x)=x^n$, $x_1 = 1-2^{-(r-1)}$, and~$x_2 = 1-2^{-r}$)}
\beta(r,n+1)
&\geq \beta(r,n) + 2^{-r} \Bigl[ 2^{-r} n(1-2^{-(r-1)})^{n-1}(2+n2^{-r}-2^{-r}) - (1-2^{-(r-1)})^n(n2^{-r} - 2^{-r})\Bigr]\label{eq:derivative_trick}\\[6pt]
&= \beta(r,n) + 2^{-2r}(1-2^{-(r-1)})^{n-1} \Bigl[2n+2^{-r}(n-1)n - (1-2^{-(r-1)})(n - 1)\Bigr]\notag\\[6pt]
&= \beta(r,n) + 2^{-2r}(1-2^{-(r-1)})^{n-1} \Bigl[n+2^{-r}(n^2+n+2) + 1 \Bigr]\notag\\[6pt]
&> \beta(r,n).\notag
\end{align}
\fi
As the probabilities are non-negative, $\alpha(r,n) = \sum_{i=1}^n (\P[E_{i,r,=1}] + \P[E_{i,r-1,>1}])$ is non-decreasing in $n$ for all $r \in \{1,\dots,k\}$. We proceed to show that $\alpha(r,n) \geq 2^{r-1}$ for all $r \in \{0,\dots,k-1\} = \{0,\dots, \lceil \log n \rceil -3\}$. Since~$r,n$ are integral, $r\leq \lceil \log n\rceil - 3$ implies~$n\geq 2^{r+2} + 1$.
Using monotonicity of~$\alpha(r,n)$ and substituting~$t := 2^r$, we have
\begin{align*}
&\inf\nolimits_{n \in \mathbb{N}} \inf\nolimits_{r \in \{1,\dots,\lceil \log n \rceil -3\}} \frac{\alpha(r,n)}{2^{r-1}}\\[6pt]
&=\inf\nolimits_{r\in\mathbb{N}} \inf\nolimits_{n\in\{2^{r+2} + 1, \dots\}} \frac{\alpha(r,n)}{2^{r-1}}\\[6pt]
&= \inf\nolimits_{r \in \mathbb{N}} \frac{\alpha(r, 2^{r+2}+1)}{2^{r-1}}\\[6pt]
&= \inf\nolimits_{r \in \mathbb{N}} \Biggl\{ \frac{3}{2} \!+\! \biggl((1\!-\!2^{-r})^{2^{r+2}\!+\!1} \!-\! (1\!-\!2^{-(r-1)})^{2^{r+2}\!+\!1}\biggr) \!\biggl(2^{-(r\!-\!1)} \!-\! (2^{r+2}+1)2^{-r} \!-\! \frac{3}{2} \biggr)\\
&\quad\quad\quad\quad\quad-\frac{3}{2}(1-2^{-r})^{2^{r+2}+1} \Biggr\}\\[6pt]
&\geq \inf\nolimits_{t \in \mathbb{N}} \Biggl\{ \frac{3}{2} + \left(\biggl(1\!-\!\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!4t\!+\!1} - \biggl(1\!-\!\frac{2}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!4t\!+\!1}\right) \!\Biggl(\frac{2}{t} \!-\! 4 \!-\! \frac{1}{t} \!-\! \frac{3}{2} \Biggr) -\frac{3}{2}\Bigl(1\!-\!\frac{1}{t}\Bigr)^{\!4t\!+\!1} \Biggr\}\\[6pt]
&= \inf\nolimits_{t \in \mathbb{N}} \Biggl\{ \frac{3}{2} + \Biggl(\biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!4t+1} - \biggl(1-\frac{2}{t}\biggr)^{\!4t+1}\Biggr) \Biggl(\frac{1}{t} - \frac{11}{2} \Biggr) -\frac{3}{2}\Bigl(1-\frac{1}{t}\Bigr)^{\!\!4t+1} \Biggr\}.
\intertext{The first order Taylor approximation of the function $f(x) = x^{4t+1}$ at $x = 1-\nicefrac{1}{t}$ gives $f(1-\nicefrac{2}{t})=(1 - \nicefrac{2}{t})^{4t+1} = (1- \nicefrac{1}{t})^{4t+1} - \frac{4t+1}{t} (1- \nicefrac{1}{t})^{4t} + R_2$, with $R_2 \geq 0$ as $f$ is convex. This implies}
&\inf\nolimits_{n \in \mathbb{N}} \inf\nolimits_{r \in \{1,\dots,\lceil \log n \rceil -2\}} \frac{\alpha(r,n)}{2^{r-1}}\\[6pt]
&\geq \inf\nolimits_{t \in \mathbb{N}} \Biggl\{ \frac{3}{2} - \frac{4t+1}{t}\biggl(\frac{11}{2} - \frac{1}{t}\biggr)\biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!4t} -\frac{3}{2}\biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)\biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!4t} \Biggr\}\\[6pt]
&= \inf\nolimits_{t \in \mathbb{N}} \Biggl\{ \frac{3}{2} - \biggl(\frac{47}{2} - \frac{1}{t^2}\biggr)\biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!4t} \Biggr\} \\[6pt]
&\geq \inf\nolimits_{t \in \mathbb{N}} \Biggl\{ \frac{3}{2} - \frac{47}{2}\biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!4t} \Biggr\}.
\end{align*}
As the latter expression is decreasing in $t$, we have $$\inf\nolimits_{n \in \mathbb{N}} \inf\nolimits_{r \in \{1,\dots,\lceil \log n \rceil -3\}} \frac{\alpha(r,n)}{2^{r-1}} \geq \lim_{t \to \infty} \left\{\frac{3}{2} - \frac{47}{2}(1-\frac{1}{t})^{4t}\right\} = \frac{3}{2} - \frac{47}{2e^4} \approx 1.069 > 1.$$
\iffalse
&= \min\nolimits_{r \in \mathbb{N}} \Biggl\{ \frac{3}{2} + \biggl((1-2^{-r})^{2^{r+1}+1} - (1-2^{-(r-1)})^{2^{r+1}+1}\biggr) \biggl(2^{-(r-1)} - (2^{r+1}+1)2^{-r} - \frac{3}{2} \biggr)\\
&\quad\quad\quad\quad\quad-\frac{3}{2}(1-2^{-r})^{2^{r+1}+1} \Biggr\}\\[6pt]
&\geq \min\nolimits_{t \in \mathbb{N}} \Biggl\{ \frac{3}{2} + \left(\biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!2t+1} - \Bigl(1-\frac{2}{t}\Bigr)^{\!\!2t+1}\right) \Biggl(\frac{2}{t} - 2 - \frac{1}{t} - \frac{3}{2} \Biggr) -\frac{3}{2}\Bigl(1-\frac{1}{t}\Bigr)^{\!2t+1} \Biggr\}\\[6pt]
&= \min\nolimits_{t \in \mathbb{N}} \Biggl\{ \frac{3}{2} + \Biggl(\Bigl(1-\frac{1}{t}\Bigr)^{\!2t+1} - \Bigl(1-\frac{2}{t}\Bigr)^{\!2t+1}\Biggr) \Biggl(\frac{1}{t} - \frac{7}{2} \Biggr) -\frac{3}{2}\Bigl(1-\frac{1}{t}\Bigr)^{\!\!2t+1} \Biggr\}.
\end{align*}
We claim that this expression is decreasing in~$t$, which allows to infer
\begin{align*}
\beta(r,n) &\geq \lim_{t \to \infty}\Biggl\{ \frac{3}{2} + \Biggl(\Bigl(1-\frac{1}{t}\Bigr)^{\!2t+1} - \Bigl(1-\frac{2}{t}\Bigr)^{\!2t+1}\Biggr) \Biggl(\frac{1}{t} - \frac{7}{2} \Biggr) -\frac{3}{2}\Bigl(1-\frac{1}{t}\Bigr)^{\!\!2t+1} \Biggr\}\\[6pt]
&=\frac{3}{2}-\frac{7}{2}\biggl(\frac{1}{e^2}-\frac{1}{e^4}\biggr)-\frac{3}{2e^2}\\[6pt]
&=\frac{3e^4 -10e^2 + 7}{2e^4},
\end{align*}
as desired.
It remains to show that $$\gamma(r) := \frac{3}{2} + \Biggl(\Bigl(1-\frac{1}{t}\Bigr)^{\!2t+1} - \Bigl(1-\frac{2}{t}\Bigr)^{\!2t+1}\Biggr) \Biggl(\frac{1}{t} - \frac{7}{2} \Biggr) -\frac{3}{2}\Bigl(1-\frac{1}{t}\Bigr)^{\!\!2t+1}$$ is decreasing in $t$.
\fi
It remains to show that $\frac{\alpha(k,n)}{2^{k-1}} \geq \eta$. For $r=k = \lceil \log n \rceil -2$, we have
\begin{align*}
\alpha(k,n) &= 2^{k-1} \biggl[\frac{5}{2} +\biggl((1-2^{-k})^n - (1-2^{-(k-1)})^n\biggr) \biggl(2^{-(k-1)} - n2^{-k} - \frac{3}{2}\biggr)\\
&\quad - \biggl(\frac{5}{2}+n2^{-k}\biggr)(1-2^{-k})^n \biggr].
\end{align*}
Again, as $\alpha(r,n)$ is non-decreasing in $n$, this value is minimal for $n=2^{k+1}+1$. Substituting $t=2^k$, we obtain
\begin{align*}
&\inf_{n \in \mathbb{N}} \frac{\alpha(\lceil \log n \rceil -2,n)}{2^{\lceil \log n \rceil -3}}\\[6pt]
&= \inf_{k \in \mathbb{N}} \frac{\alpha(k,2^{k+1}+1)}{2^{k-1}}\\[6pt]
&= \inf_{k \in \mathbb{N}} \Biggl\{ \frac{5}{2} +\biggl((1\!-\!2^{-k})^{2^{k+1}\!+\!1} - (1\!-\!2^{-(k-1)})^{2^{k+1}\!+\!1}\biggr) \biggl(2^{-(k\!-\!1)} - (2^{k+1}\!+\!1)2^{-k} - \frac{3}{2}\biggr) \\[6pt]
&\quad - \biggl(\frac{5}{2}+(2^{k+1}+1)2^{-k}\biggr)(1-2^{-k})^{2^{k+1}+1} \Biggr\}\\[6pt]
&\geq \inf_{\substack{t \in \mathbb{N}\\t\geq 2}} \Biggl\{ \frac{5}{2} +\Biggl( \!\biggl(1\!-\!\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!2t\!+\!1} \!\!- \biggl(1\!-\!\frac{2}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!2t\!+\!1}\Biggr) \!\Biggl(\frac{2}{t} \!-\! 2 -\frac{1}{t} \!-\! \frac{3}{2}\Biggr) \!-\! \biggl(\frac{5}{2} \!+\! 2 \!+\! \frac{1}{t}\biggr)\biggl(1\!-\!\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!2t\!+\!1} \Biggr\}\\[6pt]
&= \inf_{\substack{t \in \mathbb{N}\\t\geq 2}} \Biggl\{ \frac{5}{2} +\Biggl( \biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!2t+1} - \biggl(1-\frac{2}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!2t+1}\Biggr) \Biggl(\frac{1}{t} - \frac{7}{2}\Biggr) - \biggl(\frac{9}{2} + \frac{1}{t}\biggr)\biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!2t+1} \Biggr\}.
\end{align*}
By second-order Taylor approximation of the function $f(x) = x^{2t+1}$ at $x = (1 - \nicefrac{1}{t})$, we obtain
\begin{align*}
f(1-\frac{2}{t})=\biggl(1 - \frac{2}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!2t+1} &= \biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!2t+1} - \frac{2t+1}{t}\biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!2t} + \frac{2t(2t+1)}{2t^2}\biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!2t-1}\\[6pt]
&\quad - \frac{2t(2t+1)(2t-1)}{6t^3}\biggl(1- \frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!2t-2} + R_4,
\end{align*}
where the remainder is $R_4 \geq 0$, as the fourth derivative is non-negative. (This can easily be seen when expressing the remainder in Lagrange form.)
We then obtain
\begin{align*}
&\inf_{n \in \mathbb{N}} \frac{\alpha(\lceil \log n \rceil -2,n)}{2^{\lceil \log n \rceil -3}}\\[6pt]
&\geq \inf_{\substack{t \in \mathbb{N}\\t\geq 2}} \Biggl\{ \frac{5}{2} +\Biggl[ \frac{2t+1}{t}\biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!2t} - \frac{2t+1}{t}\biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!2t-1}\\
&\quad\quad\quad\quad\quad + \frac{(2t+1)(2t-1)}{3t^2}\biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!2t-2} \Biggr] \Biggl[\frac{1}{t} - \frac{7}{2}\Biggr] - \biggl(\frac{9}{2} + \frac{1}{t}\biggr)\biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!2t+1} \Biggr\}\\[6pt]
&= \inf_{\substack{t \in \mathbb{N}\\t\geq 2}} \Biggl\{ \frac{5}{2} +\biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!2t} \Biggl[ \biggl(\frac{2t+1}{t} - \frac{2t+1}{t-1} + \frac{(2t+1)(2t-1)}{3(t-1)^2}\biggr) \biggl(\frac{1}{t} - \frac{7}{2}\biggr)\\
&\quad\quad\quad\quad\quad - \biggl(\frac{9}{2} + \frac{1}{t}\biggr)\biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)\Biggr] \Biggr\}\\
&= \inf_{\substack{t \in \mathbb{N}\\t\geq 2}} \Biggl\{ \frac{5}{2} - \frac{55t^4 - 125t^3 + 89t^2 + 8t - 12}{6t^2(t-1)^2}\biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!2t} \Biggr\}.
\end{align*}
It is straightforward to check that $(1-\nicefrac{1}{t})^{2t}$ and $\frac{55t^4 - 125t^3 + 89t^2 + 8t - 12}{6t^2(t-1)^2}$ are increasing in $t$. This implies
\begin{align*}
\inf_{k \in \mathbb{N}} \frac{\alpha(k,2^{k+1}+1)}{2^{k-1}}
&= \lim_{t \to \infty} \Biggl\{ \frac{5}{2} - \frac{55t^4 - 125t^3 + 89t^2 + 8t - 12}{6t^2(t-1)^2}\biggl(1-\frac{1}{t}\biggr)^{\!\!2t} \Biggr\}\\[6pt]
&= \frac{5}{2} - \frac{55}{6e^2} \approx 1.259,
\end{align*}
which finishes the proof.
\hfill\end{proof}
\iffalse
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
Fix a probability distribution $X$. In the following, all expectations and probabilities are with respect to $X$. By Proposition~\ref{pro:opt}, we have $\Exp{\textsc{Opt}_n} = \sum\nolimits_{i\in[n]}\int_{0}^{\infty}(1-F(x))^{i}\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x$. We proceed to split the integral into the area between consecutive quantiles. Since $1-F(x)$ is decreasing, we obtain a lower bound on the integral by evaluating the functions at the larger quantile.
\begin{eqnarray*}
\Exp{\textsc{Opt}_n} & = & \Exp X+\sum_{i=2}^{n}\sum_{r=0}^{\infty}\int_{\delta_{2^{-(r+1)}}}^{\delta_{2^{-r}}}\bigl(1-F(x)\bigr)^{\!i} \,\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x\\
& \geq & \Exp X+\sum_{i=2}^{n}\sum_{r=0}^{\infty}\bigl(\delta_{2^{-r}}-\delta_{2^{-(r+1)}}\bigr)\bigl(1-F(\delta_{2^{-r}})\bigr)^{\!i}\\
& \geq & \Exp X+\sum_{i=2}^{n}\sum_{r=0}^{\infty}\bigl(\delta_{2^{-r}}-\delta_{2^{-(r+1)}}\bigr)\bigl(1-2^{-r}\bigr)^{\!i}.
\end{eqnarray*}
Limiting the inner sum to $r\leq R$ we obtain
\begin{align*}
\Exp{\textsc{Opt}_n} & \geq \Exp X+\sum_{i=2}^{n}\left[\delta_{2^{-R}}\bigl(1-2^{-R}\bigr)^{\!i}+\sum_{r=1}^{R-1}\bigl(\delta_{2^{-r}}-\delta_{2^{-(r+1)}}\bigr)\bigl(1-2^{-r}\bigr)^{\!i}\right]\\
& \geq \Exp X+\delta_{2^{-R}}\sum_{i=2}^{n}\bigl(1-2^{-R}\bigr)^{\!i}+\sum_{r=1}^{R-1} \left[\bigl(\delta_{2^{-r}}-\delta_{2^{-(r+1)}}\bigr)\sum_{i=2}^{n} (1-2^{-r})^{i} \right]\enspace .
\intertext{Setting $a_{r}:=(1-2^{-r})$ and evaluating the geometric sums, this implies}
\Exp{\textsc{Opt}_n}& \geq \Exp X+\delta_{2^{-R}}\Bigl(2^{R}(1-a_{R}^{n+1})-1-a_{R}\Bigr) +\sum_{r=1}^{R-1}\Bigl(\delta_{2^{-r}}-\delta_{2^{-(r+1)}}\Bigr)\Bigl(2^{r}(1-a_{r}^{n+1})-1-a_{r}\Bigr)\\
& = \Exp X+\sum_{r=1}^{R}\delta_{2^{-r}}\Bigl(2^{r}(1-a_{r}^{n+1})-1-a_{r}\Bigr) - \sum_{r=2}^{R}\delta_{2^{-r}}\Bigl(2^{r-1}(1-a_{r-1}^{n+1})-1-a_{r-1}\Bigr)\\
& = \Exp X+\delta_{2^{-1}}\Biggl(\frac{1}{2}-\frac{1}{2^{n}}\Biggr) + \sum_{r=2}^{R}2^{r}\delta_{2^{-r}}\Biggl(\frac{1}{2}-a_{r}^{n+1}+\frac{a_{r-1}^{n+1}}{2} + \frac{a_{r-1} - a_r}{2^r}\Biggr) \enspace .
\intertext{Using that $a_{r-1} - a_r = 2^{-r} - 2^{-(r-1)} = -2^{-r}$, we obtain}
\Exp{\textsc{Opt}_n} & \geq \Exp X+ 2\delta_{2^{-1}}\Biggl(\frac{1}{4}-\frac{1}{2^{n+1}}\Biggr) + \sum_{r=2}^{R}2^{r}\delta_{2^{-r}}\Biggl(\frac{1}{2}-a_{r}^{n+1}+\frac{a_{r-1}^{n+1}}{2} - 2^{-2r}\Biggr).
\end{align*}
The expression $\nicefrac{1}{2}-a_{r}^{n+1}+\nicefrac{1}{2}\cdot a_{r-1}^{n+1}-2^{-2r}$ is decreasing in $r$, since $a_r^{n+1}$ grows faster than $\nicefrac{1}{2} \cdot a_{r-1}^{n+1}$, see Appendix~\ref{app:derivative} for details.
With $r\leq \log(n)$, we get
\begin{align*}
\frac{1}{2}-a_{r}^{n+1} +\frac{1}{2}\cdot a_{r-1}^{n+1} - 2^{-2r}
&\geq \frac{1}{2}-a_{\log(n)}^{n+1}+\frac{1}{2}\cdot a_{\log(n)-1}^{n+1}-\frac{1}{n^2}\\
& = \frac{1}{2}-\left(1-\frac{1}{n}\right)^{n+1}+\frac{1}{2}\cdot \left(1-\frac{2}{n}\right)^{n+1}-\frac{1}{n^2}\\
& = \frac{1}{2}-\frac{1}{e}+\frac{1}{2}\cdot \frac{1}{e^2}\left(1-\frac{2}{n}\right)^{3}-\frac{1}{n^2}\\
& = \frac{1}{2} - \frac{1}{e} + \frac{1}{2e^2} - o(1) = \frac{1}{2}\left(\frac{e-1}{e}\right)^2 - o(1)
\end{align*}
Thus, for $n$ large enough, we get
\begin{align*}
\Exp{\textsc{Opt}} &\geq \Exp X+\frac{1}{2}\left(\frac{e-1}{e}\right)^2\sum\nolimits _{r=1}^{R}\delta_{2^{-r}}2^{r}-\varepsilon,
\end{align*}
as claimed.\hfill
\end{proof}
\fi
Combining Lemmas~\ref{lem:uniform_transitions} and~\ref{lem:arb_dist_offline_opt}, we obtain
the main result of this section.
\begin{restatable}{theorem}{thmarbitrary}
Algorithm~\ref{alg:arb_dist} is $6.052$-competitive for arbitrary distributions.
\end{restatable}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
For $n \leq 4$, Algorithm~\ref{alg:arb_dist} hires the first applicant for the whole time which gives $4$-approximation. For the following arguments, assume that $n \geq 5$, and let $k = \lceil \log n \rceil - 2 \geq 1$.
Algorithm~\ref{alg:arb_dist} hires an applicant, whenever the Markov chain transitions from a state $B_j$ to $A_{j+1}$ and hires the final applicant when it reaches state $B_k$.
By Lemma~\ref{lem:uniform_transitions} for each $j$, the expected number of transitions from state $B_j$ to $A_{j+1}$ is at most $\smash{\frac{p}{3p-1}}$ where $p = 1 - \nicefrac{1}{e}$.
Each applicant who is hired while transitioning from $B_j$ to $A_{j+1}$ is hired for $\smash{2^{j+2}}$ time units, and its expected cost value is
$\Exp{ x \mid \delta_{2^{-(j+1)}} \leq x \leq\delta_{2^{-j}}}$. The final applicant hired when state $B_k$ is reached is hired for at most $n$ time units and has expected cost with value $\mbox{\rm\bf E}[ x \,|\, x \leq \delta_{2^{-k}}]$.
Since the number of visits to a state and the cost for hiring an applicant in the state are stochastically independent, we obtain
\begin{align}
\Exp{\textsc{Alg}_n} &\leq \frac{p}{3p-1} \sum_{j=0}^{k-1} \Bigl(2^{j+2} \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[ x \,\big|\, \delta_{2^{-(j+1)}} < x \leq \delta_{2^{-j}}\bigr] \Bigr) + n \mbox{\rm\bf E}[ x\,|\, x \leq \delta_{2^{-k}}] \notag\\[6pt]
&= \frac{1-\nicefrac{1}{e}}{2-\nicefrac{3}{e}} \sum_{j=0}^{k-1} \Bigl(2^{j+2} \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[ x \,\big|\, \delta_{2^{-(j+1)}} < x \leq \delta_{2^{-j}}\bigr] \Bigr) + n \mbox{\rm\bf E}[ x\,|\, x \leq \delta_{2^{-k}}] \notag\\[6pt]
&\leq \frac{8e-8}{2e-3} \mbox{\rm\bf E}[\textsc{Opt}_n] + n\biggl(1 - \frac{e-1}{2e-3}\eta\biggr)\mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[ x \,\big|\, x \leq \delta_{2^{-k}}\bigr] \label{eq:alg_n},
\end{align}
where we used Lemma~\ref{lem:arb_dist_offline_opt} and where $\eta = \frac{5}{2} - \frac{55}{6e^2}$. Further, recall that $\mbox{\rm\bf E}[\textsc{Opt}_n] = \sum_{i=1}^n \mbox{\rm\bf E}[\min \{x_1,\dots,x_i\}]$. For $i \in [n]$, we have
\begin{align}
\mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[\min \{x_1,\dots,x_i\}\bigr] &\geq \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[x \,\big|\, x \leq \delta_{2^{-k}}\bigr] \P\bigl[\left|\{x_1,\dots,x_i\} \cap [0,\delta_{2^{-k}}]\right| \leq 1\bigr] \notag \\[6pt]
&\geq \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[x \,\big|\, x \leq \delta_{2^{-k}}\bigr] \P\bigl[\left|\{x_1,\dots,x_i\} \cap [0,\delta_{4/n}]\right| \leq 1\bigr] \notag \\[6pt]
&= \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[x \,\big|\, x \leq \delta_{2^{-k}}\bigr] \bigl( \P\left[\left| \{x_1,\dots,x_i\} \cap [0,\delta_{4/n}]\right| = 0 \right]\notag\\[6pt]
&\phantom{=\mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[x \,\big|\, x \leq \delta_{2^{-k}}\bigr] \bigl(} + \P\left[\left| \{x_1,\dots,x_i\} \cap [0,\delta_{4/n}]\right| = 1 \right] \bigr)\notag\\[6pt]
&= \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[x \,\big|\, x \leq \delta_{2^{-k}}\bigr] \Biggl( \biggl(1- \frac{4}{n}\biggr)^{\!\!i} + \frac{4i}{n}\biggl(1-\frac{4}{n}\biggr)^{\!\!i-1}\Biggr), \notag
\intertext{which implies (for $n\geq5$)}
\mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[\textsc{Opt}_n]
&\geq \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[x \,\big|\, x \leq \delta_{2^{-k}}\bigr] \sum_{i=1}^n \Biggl( \biggl(1-\frac{4}{n}\biggr)^{\!\!i} + \frac{4i}{n}\biggl(1-\frac{4}{n}\biggr)^{\!\!i-1} \Biggr) \notag\\[6pt]
&= \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[x \,\big|\, x \leq \delta_{2^{-k}}\bigr] \Biggl(\frac{n}{2}\Biggl(1 - 3\biggl(1-\frac{4}{n}\biggr)^{\!\!n} \Biggr) + \biggl(1-\frac{4}{n}\biggr)^{\!\!n} -1 \Biggr) \notag\\[6pt]
&\geq \mbox{\rm\bf E}\bigl[x \,\big|\, x \leq \delta_{2^{-k}}\bigr] \Biggl(\frac{n}{2}\biggl(1-\frac{3}{e^4}\biggr)+ \biggl(1-\frac{4}{n}\biggr)^{\!\!n} - 1 \Biggr).\label{eq:final_probability}
\end{align}
Combining \eqref{eq:final_probability} with \eqref{eq:alg_n} and using $n \geq 5$, we obtain
\begin{align*}
\mbox{\rm\bf E}[\textsc{Alg}_n] &\leq \frac{8e-8}{2e-3}\mbox{\rm\bf E}[\textsc{Opt}_n] + \frac{1 - \frac{e-1}{2e-3}(\frac{5}{2} - \frac{55}{6e^2})}{\frac{1}{2}\bigl(1-\frac{3}{e^4}\bigr)+ \left(1-\frac{4}{n}\right)^{\!\!n} -\frac{1}{n}}\mbox{\rm\bf E}[\textsc{Opt}_n]\\[6pt]
&\leq \biggl( \frac{8e-8}{2e-3} + \frac{1 - \frac{e-1}{2e-3}(\frac{5}{2} - \frac{55}{6e^2})}{\frac{1}{2}\bigl(1-\frac{3}{e^4}\bigr)+ \left(1-\frac{4}{5}\right)^{\!\!5} -\frac{1}{5}}\biggr)\mbox{\rm\bf E}[\textsc{Opt}_n] \leq 6.052 \cdot\mbox{\rm\bf E}[\textsc{Opt}_n]
\end{align*}
as claimed.
\hfill
\end{proof}
\section{Unknown Distributions}\label{sec:unknown_distribution}
In this section, we again consider an arbitrary distribution $X$ with distribution
function $F$. In contrast to before, we assume that
$X$ is unknown to us. In particular, we do not have access
to the quantiles of $X$. We first give a bound for the
cost of the offline optimum that does not rely on quantiles.
In the following, we let $\Ex{x} := \Exx{x\sim X}{x}$.
\begin{restatable}{lemma}{lemundistofflineopt}
For arbitrary distributions $X$, \label{lem:un_dist_offline_opt2}
$\Exp{\textsc{Opt}_n}\geq\Exp x+\sum_{i=1}^{\lfloor\log n\rfloor}2^{i-1}\int_{0}^{\infty}(1-F(x))^{2^{i}}\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x$.
\end{restatable}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
Since the left hand side of the inequality to prove is increasing in $n$ while the right hand side only increases when $n$ is a power of $2$, we may assume without loss of generality that $n$ is a power of $2$. By Proposition~\ref{pro:opt}, we have
$\Exp{\textsc{Opt}_n}=\sum\nolimits _{i\in[n]}\int_{0}^{\infty}(1-F(x))^{i}\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x$.
Using that $(1-F(x))^{i}$ is decreasing with $i$, we split the sum into the ranges $(\nicefrac{n}{2},n],(\nicefrac{n}{4},\nicefrac{n}{2}],(\nicefrac{n}{8},\nicefrac{n}{4}],\dots$
and bound each part by the last term in the corresponding range, i.e.,
\begin{align*}
\Exp{\textsc{Opt}_n} & = \Exp x+\sum\nolimits _{i=2}^{n}\int_{0}^{\infty}(1-F(x))^{i}\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x\\[6pt]
& \geq \Exp x+\frac{n}{2}\int_{0}^{\infty}(1-F(x))^{n}\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x+\frac{n}{4}\int_{0}^{\infty}(1-F(x))^{n/2}\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x +\dots\\
&\quad\dots+\int_{0}^{\infty}(1-F(x))^{2}\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x\\[6pt]
& = \Exp x+\sum\nolimits _{i=1}^{\log n}\frac{n}{2^{i}}\int_{0}^{\infty}(1-F(x))^{n/2^{i-1}}\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x\\[6pt]
& = \Exp x+\sum\nolimits _{i=1}^{\log n}2^{\log n-i}\int_{0}^{\infty}(1-F(x))^{2^{\log n-i+1}}\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x\\[6pt]
& = \Exp x+\sum\nolimits _{i=0}^{\log n-1}2^{i}\int_{0}^{\infty}(1-F(x))^{2^{i+1}}\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x\\[6pt]
& = \Exp x+\sum\nolimits _{i=1}^{\log n}2^{i-1}\int_{0}^{\infty}(1-F(x))^{2^{i}}\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x,
\end{align*}
as claimed.\hfill
\end{proof}
We now describe our algorithm for unknown distributions (cf.~Algorithm~\ref{alg:unknown_dist}).
Without knowledge of the quantiles of $X$, we have no good
way to directly adjust the cost threshold $\ensuremath{\tau}$.
Instead, for some integral value $\lambda > 1$ to be fixed later, we devote a $\nicefrac{1}{\lambda+1}$ fraction of the time spent in each state~$j$ to sample $X$
in order to estimate a suitable value for~$\ensuremath{\tau}$ and then wait for an appropriate candidate to appear. Specifically, in state~$j$ we sample for $2^j-1$ time units and then observe the applicants for another $\lambda (2^j-1)$ time units. Thus, the maximum number of time units spent in state $j$ is $\bar{t}_{j}=(1+\lambda)(2^{j}-1)$. When observing the applicants we hire any candidate whose cost does not exceed the minimum cost while sampling. The hiring time is $t_{j}=(1+\lambda)2^{j+2}$ time units. Since
\begin{align*}
\sum_{i=0}^{j+1} \bar{t}_{i} = (1+\lambda)\sum_{i=0}^{j+1} (2^{i}-1) = (1+\lambda)(2^{j+2}-j-3) \leq t_j
\end{align*}
we are guaranteed to hire a new applicant (or terminate the algorithm) during
the hiring time.
\begin{algorithm}[tb]
\caption{A $48$-competitive algorithm for unknown distributions.}
\label{alg:unknown_dist}
$\ensuremath{\tau} \leftarrow \infty$ \tcp*[r]{threshold cost}
$t_\mathrm{sample} \leftarrow 0$ \tcp*[r]{remaining time until threshold is fixed}
$t_\mathrm{wait} \leftarrow 1$ \tcp*[r]{remaining time once threshold is fixed}
$j \leftarrow 0$ \tcp*[r]{state of the algorithm}
\For{$i \leftarrow 1, \dots, n$ }{
\If{$t_\mathrm{sample} > 0$}{
$\ensuremath{\tau} \leftarrow \min\{\ensuremath{\tau}, x_i\}$\;
$t_\mathrm{sample} \leftarrow t_\mathrm{sample} - 1$\;
}
\ElseIf{$t_\mathrm{wait} > 0$}{
$t_\mathrm{wait} \leftarrow t_\mathrm{wait} - 1$\;
\If{$x_i \le \ensuremath{\tau}$}{
hire applicant $i$ for $(1+\lambda)2^{j+2}$ time steps\;
\If{$i + (1+\lambda)2^{j+2} > n$}{
{\bf stop}\;
}
$j \leftarrow j + 1$; $\ensuremath{\tau} \leftarrow \infty$; $t_\mathrm{sample} \leftarrow 2^j - 1$; $t_\mathrm{wait} \leftarrow \lambda t_\mathrm{sample}$\;
}
}
\Else{
$j \leftarrow j - 1$; $\ensuremath{\tau} \leftarrow \infty$; $t_\mathrm{sample} \leftarrow 2^j - 1$; $t_\mathrm{wait} \leftarrow \lambda t_\mathrm{sample}$\;
}
}
\end{algorithm}
The maximum value of $j$ that can be reached during the execution
of the algorithm is bounded by the fact that $(1+\lambda)2^{j+2}\leq n$, i.e.,
$j \leq \lceil \log\frac{n}{1+\lambda} \rceil -2$.
\begin{figure}
\centering
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=0.3, every node/.style={scale=0.7}]
\matrix (m) [matrix of nodes, row sep=3em, column sep=5em,
nodes={draw, rectangle, line width=1, text centered, minimum size=2em}]
{\\ $0$ & $1$ & $2$ & |[draw=none]|$\phantom{1k}\dots\phantom{1k}$ & $\!\!k\!-\!1\!\!$ & $k$ \\ };
\draw[->] (m-2-1) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$1$} (m-2-2);
\draw[->] (m-2-2) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$\nicefrac{1}{\lambda+1}$} (m-2-1);
\draw[->] (m-2-2) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$\nicefrac{\lambda}{\lambda+1}$} (m-2-3);
\draw[->] (m-2-3) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$\nicefrac{1}{\lambda+1}$} (m-2-2);
\draw[->] (m-2-3) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$\nicefrac{\lambda}{\lambda+1}$} (m-2-4);
\draw[->] (m-2-4) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$\nicefrac{1}{\lambda+1}$} (m-2-3);
\draw[->] (m-2-4) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$\nicefrac{\lambda}{\lambda+1}$} (m-2-5);
\draw[->] (m-2-5) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$\nicefrac{1}{\lambda+1}$} (m-2-4);
\draw[->] (m-2-5) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$\nicefrac{1}{\lambda+1}$} (m-2-6);
\foreach \x [count=\y] in {2,3}{
}
\end{tikzpicture}
\caption{Markov chain $M(p,k)$ with $p = \lambda/(\lambda+1)$. \label{fig:markov_unknown}}
\end{figure}
Again, we introduce a Markov chain that has one state for each possible value of $j$ and an absorbing state $k$, see Figure~\ref{fig:markov_unknown}. The probability that we do not hire an applicant in state $j$ with $0<j<k$ equals the probability
that the smallest cost observed while sampling is lower than the smallest
cost observed while waiting. Since $t_{\mathrm{wait}}=\lambda t_{\mathrm{sample}}$,
we have a hiring probability of $p=\nicefrac{\lambda}{\lambda+1}$.
With this probability, the Markov chain transitions to state~$j+1$,
otherwise to state $j-1$.
As the Markov chain already has homogenous transition probabilities equal to $p = \lambda/(\lambda+1)$, Lemma~\ref{lem:markov_a_visit} directly implies the following result.
\begin{restatable}{lemma}{lemarbdistexpectedvisits}
The expected number of visits to each state $j$ of the Markov chain is at most~$\frac{1}{2p-1}$.\label{lem:arb_dist_expected_visits}
\end{restatable}
Combining Lemma~\ref{lem:un_dist_offline_opt2} and Lemma~\ref{lem:arb_dist_expected_visits} yields the main result of this section.
\begin{restatable}{theorem}{thmunknown}
For $\lambda=3$, Algorithm~\ref{alg:unknown_dist} is strictly $48$-competitive for unknown distributions.
\end{restatable}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
Using Lemma~\ref{lem:arb_dist_expected_visits} with $p= \frac{\lambda}{\lambda+1}$, we conclude that the algorithm visits
each state at most $\frac{1}{2p-1} = \frac{\lambda+1}{\lambda-1}$ times in expectation.
In state~$j$ with $0<j<k$ with probability $p= \frac{\lambda}{\lambda+1}$ an applicant is
hired for $(1+\lambda)2^{j+2}$ units of time.
The cost of the applicant is determined by drawing $2^{j}-1$ numbers to determine a minimum $\ensuremath{\tau}$, and then continuing to draw until we find the first cost smaller than $\ensuremath{\tau}$.
We can bound the expected cost of the applicant by the expected cost when drawing $2^j$ numbers and taking the minimum, i.e.,
\[
\Exp{x\,|\,x\leq\ensuremath{\tau}}\leq\mathbf{E}_{x_{i}\sim X}[\min\nolimits _{i\in\{1,\dots,2^{j}\}}\{x_{i}\}]=\int_{0}^{\infty}(1-F(x))^{2^{j}}\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x.
\]
The algorithm stops at the latest when an applicant is hired in state $k-1 = \lceil \log \frac{n}{\lambda+1} \rceil - 2$ as the applicant is hired for at least $n$ time steps.
Since the number of visits to a state, the probability of hiring in a state, and the expected cost when hiring
are independent, we obtain
\[
\Exp{\textsc{Alg}_n}\leq\frac{\lambda(\lambda+1)}{\lambda-1}\sum_{j=0}^{k}\Bigg(2^{j+2}\int_{0}^{\infty}(1-F(x))^{2^{j}}\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x\Bigg).
\]
Together with Lemma~\ref{lem:un_dist_offline_opt2} and $k-1\leq\lfloor\log n\rfloor-2$,
this yields
\begin{align*}
\frac{\Exp{\textsc{Alg}_n}}{\Exp{\textsc{Opt}_n}} &\leq \frac{4 \Exp x\frac{(\lambda + 1)^2}{\lambda - 1} +\sum_{j=1}^{k-1}\bigl(\frac{\lambda(\lambda + 1)}{\lambda -1}2^{j+2}\int_{0}^{\infty}(1-F(x))^{2^{j}}\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x \bigr)}{\Exp x+\sum_{j=1}^{\lfloor\log n\rfloor}2^{j-1}\int_{0}^{\infty}(1-F(x))^{2^{j}}\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x\phantom{)}}\\
&\leq \max\Biggl\{\frac{4 \Exp x\frac{(\lambda + 1)^2}{\lambda - 1}}{\Exp x}, \frac{\sum_{j=1}^{k-1}\bigl(\frac{\lambda(\lambda + 1)}{\lambda -1}2^{j+2}\int_{0}^{\infty}(1-F(x))^{2^{j}}\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x \bigr)}{\sum_{j=1}^{\lfloor\log n\rfloor}2^{j-1}\int_{0}^{\infty}(1-F(x))^{2^{j}}\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x\phantom{)}}\Biggr\}\\
&\leq \max\Biggl\{4\frac{(\lambda +1)^2}{\lambda -1}, 8 \frac{\lambda(\lambda +1)}{\lambda -1}\Biggr\} \leq 48,
\end{align*}
as claimed.\hfill
\end{proof}
\section{Sequential Employment}
\label{sec:sequential_employment}
We now turn our attention to the number of applicants that are
concurrently under employment. We show that there is no constant competitive algorithm for the problem that the covering constraint for the required number of employed candidates is fulfilled with equality in every step.
We can easily adapt the algorithms in the previous sections to be competitive in a setting where not
more than two applicants may be employed during any period of time.
\begin{lemma}\label{lem:only-two}
We can adapt each of the above algorithms to employ not more than two applicants concurrently and ensure them to only lose a factor of at most $2$ in their competitive ratio.
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
We double the hiring times of the algorithms and stay idle during
the first half of the hiring period, i.e., we discard all applicants
encountered during that period. This doubling causes a loss of a factor not larger than $2$. Further, it has the effect that after waiting
for half of the hiring time, effectively, the remaining hiring time
is as before. This in turn implies that the employment period of any
previously hired applicant runs out while staying idle for a new applicant.
This is because the hiring time of a new applicant was defined to
be larger than the remaining hiring time of the previous one, and thus only ever two applicants are employed concurrently. \hfill
\end{proof}
Lemma~\ref{lem:only-two} allows us to generalize our algorithms for input sequences of unknown length. Without knowledge of~$n$, we cannot stop our algorithm once an applicant is
hired for more than the remaining time.
However, if no more than two applicants are employed concurrently, it is guaranteed that we never employ more than a single
additional applicant.
\begin{corollary}
Algorithms~\ref{alg:multi_uniform}--\ref{alg:unknown_dist} can be adapted to be competitive even when
$n$ is not known.
\end{corollary}
The question remains, whether we can stay competitive when only a single
applicant may be employed at a time. We refer to this setting as the
setting of \emph{sequential employment.}
In the remaining part of this section, we show that the competitive ratio is $\Omega\!\left(\notnicefrac{\sqrt{n}}{\log n}\right)$ for any online algorithm, even when $X=U[0,1]$.
Note that the offline
optimum only uses sequential employment.
Let $\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n}$ denote the expected cost of the best online algorithm for $n$ applicants under sequential employment.
We give an optimal online algorithm (cf.~Algorithm~\ref{alg:sequential}) based on the values $\mbox{\rm\bf E}_1, \mbox{\rm\bf E}_2,\dots, \mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n-1}$.
Since a single applicant needs to be employed at any time, the only
decision of the algorithm regards the respective hiring times. Interestingly,
our algorithm hires all but the last applicant only for a single unit
of time.
Before we prove this result, we need the following technical lemma.
\begin{restatable}{lemma}{lemsequentialtechnical}
The function $G(\tau):=\Prob{x\geq\tau}(\tau-\Exp{x\,|\,x\geq\tau})$
is non-decreasing.\label{lem:sequential_G}
\end{restatable}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
We rewrite $G(\ensuremath{\tau}) = \ensuremath{\tau}\Prob{x\geq\ensuremath{\tau}}-\int_{\tau}^{\infty}xf(x)\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x$ where $f$ is the density of $X$. Then, for $\ensuremath{\tau}'>\ensuremath{\tau}$, we have
\begin{align*}
G(\ensuremath{\tau}')-G(\ensuremath{\tau}) & = \ensuremath{\tau}'\Prob{x\geq\ensuremath{\tau}'}-\ensuremath{\tau}\Prob{x\geq\ensuremath{\tau}}+\int_{\ensuremath{\tau}}^{\ensuremath{\tau}'}xf(x)\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x\\[6pt]
& \geq \ensuremath{\tau}'\int_{\ensuremath{\tau}'}^{\infty} f(x)\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x-\ensuremath{\tau}\int_{\ensuremath{\tau}}^{\infty} f(x)\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x+\ensuremath{\tau}\int_{\ensuremath{\tau}}^{\ensuremath{\tau}'}\,f(x)\normalfont{\mbox{\,d}} x\\[6pt]
& \geq 0,
\end{align*}
which concludes the proof. \hfill
\end{proof}
\begin{algorithm}[tb]
\caption{An optimal online algorithm for sequential employment.}
\label{alg:sequential}
\For{$i \leftarrow 1, \dots, n$}{
\If{$x_i < \tau_{n-i} = \frac{\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n-i}}{n-i}$} {
hire applicant $i$ for remaining time $n-i+1$\;
\bf{stop}\;
}
\Else {
hire applicant $i$ for one unit of time\;
}
}
\end{algorithm}
We are now in position to prove that Algorithm~\ref{alg:sequential} is optimal.
\begin{restatable}{theorem}{thmsequentialopt}
Algorithm~\ref{alg:sequential} is an optimal online algorithm for
sequential employment.
\end{restatable}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
Let $\ensuremath{\tau}_{i}:=\lfrac{\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{i}}{i}$ be the threshold employed by Algorithm~\ref{alg:sequential} when $i$ applicants remain. For technical reasons, let $\tau_0$ be any constant greater than $\tau_1$. We prove the theorem by induction on $n$, additionally showing that $\ensuremath{\tau}_{n}\leq\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}$. For $n=1$, the algorithm is obviously optimal and $\tau_1 \leq \tau_0$ by definition. Consider the first applicant of cost $x_{1}$. With $\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{0}:=0$, the expected cost of the optimal online algorithm follows the recursion
\begin{align}
\min_{t\in\{1,\dots,n\}}\{x_{1}t+\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n-t}\}.\label{eq:opt_online}
\end{align}
Consider the case $x_{1}<\tau_{n-1} = \mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n-1} / (n-1)$. We proceed to show that the minimum
(\ref{eq:opt_online}) is attained for $t=n$. By induction, for all
$t\in\{1,\dots,n-1\}$, we have $x_{1}<\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}\leq\ensuremath{\tau}_{t}$, and
thus
\[
nx_{1}=tx_{1}+(n-t)x_{1}<tx_{1}+\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n-t}.
\]
Now consider the case $x_{1}\geq\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}$. We need to show that
the minimum (\ref{eq:opt_online}) is attained for $t=1$. By induction,
for all $t\in\{2,\dots,n\}$, we have $\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}\leq\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-t}$, and
thus
\begin{eqnarray*}
tx_{1}+\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n-t} & = & x_{1}+(t-1)x_{1}+(n-t)\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-t}\\
& \geq & x_{1}+(t-1)\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}+(n-t)\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}\\
& = & x_{1}+\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n-1}.
\end{eqnarray*}
It remains to show $\ensuremath{\tau}_{n}\leq\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}$. From the above, we have
\[
\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n}=n\Prob{x<\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}} \Exp{x\,|\,x<\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}}+\Prob{x\geq\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}}(\Exp{x\,|\,x\geq\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}}+\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n-1}).
\]
Using
\[
\Exp x=\Prob{x<\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}}\Exp{x\,|\,x<\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}}+\Prob{x\geq\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}}\Exp{x\,|\,x\geq\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}},
\]
this yields
\begin{eqnarray*}
\ensuremath{\tau}_{n} & = & \Exp x+\frac{1}{n}\Prob{x\geq\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}}\bigl(\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n-1}-(n-1)\Exp{x\,|\,x\geq\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}}\bigr)\\[6pt]
& = & \Exp x+\frac{n-1}{n}\Prob{x\geq\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}}(\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}-\Exp{x\,|\,x\geq\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}}).
\end{eqnarray*}
Using Lemma~\ref{lem:sequential_G} (with $\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}\leq\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-2}$ by induction) and the fact that the second term is negative, we obtain
\begin{align*}
\tau_{n} & \leq \Exp x+\frac{n-2}{n-1}\Prob{x\geq\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}}(\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}-\Exp{x\,|\,x\geq\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}})\\[6pt]
& \leq \Exp x+\frac{n-2}{n-1}\Prob{x\geq\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-2}}(\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-2}-\Exp{x\,|\,x\geq\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-2}})\\
& = \ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1},
\end{align*}
which concludes the proof. \hfill
\end{proof}
We derive the optimal competitive ratio for the case where $X=U[0,1]$.
\begin{restatable}{lemma}{lemseqEsim}
For $X=U[0,1]$, we have\label{lem:sequential_Esimplification}
\[
\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n}=\begin{cases}
\nicefrac{1}{2}, & \mathrm{for\,}n=1,\\
\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n-1}+\nicefrac{1}{2}-\frac{\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n-1}^{2}}{2(n-1)}, & \mathrm{for\,}n>1.
\end{cases}
\]
\end{restatable}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
The case $n=1$ follows from $\Exp x=\nicefrac{1}{2}$. For $n>1$,
we use the fact that Algorithm~\ref{alg:sequential} is optimal.
We obtain
\begin{align*}
\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n} & = n\Prob{x<\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}}\Exp{x\,|\,x<\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}}+\Prob{x\geq\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}}(\Exp{x\,|\,x\geq\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}}+\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n-1})\\[6pt]
& = n \ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}\cdot\frac{1}{2}\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}+(1-\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1})\left(\frac{1+\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}}{2}+\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n-1}\right)\\[6pt]
& = \frac{n\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}^{2}}{2}+\frac{1}{2}+\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n-1}-\frac{1}{2}\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}^{2}-\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n-1}\ensuremath{\tau}_{n-1}\\[6pt]
& = \mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n-1}+\frac{1}{2}-\frac{\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n-1}^{2}}{2(n-1)},
\end{align*}
which concludes the proof. \hfill
\end{proof}
With this, we can bound the expected cost of any online algorithm.
\begin{lemma}
\label{lem:EnInSqrt}
For $X = \mathcal{U}[0,1]$, we have $\sqrt{n+1}-1\leq\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n}\leq\sqrt{n}$.
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
For the sake of contradiction, assume that $\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n}>\sqrt{n}$ for
some value of $n$. With Lemma~\ref{lem:sequential_Esimplification},
we obtain
\[
\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n+1}=\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n}+\frac{1}{2}-\frac{\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n}^{2}}{2n}<\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n}+\frac{1}{2}-\frac{n}{2n}=\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n},
\]
which is a contradiction with $\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n}$ being non-decreasing.
Let $h(n):=\sqrt{n+1}-1$. It is easy to check that $\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n}\geq h(n)$
for $n<7$. For $n\geq7$, we use induction on $n$. To that end,
assume $\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n}\geq h(n)$ holds and consider $\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n+1}$. Clearly,
$\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n+1}\geq\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n}$. If $\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n}\geq\sqrt{n+1}-0.8$, it thus suffices
to show that $h(n+1)-h(n)\leq0.2$. Since $h$ is concave and $n\geq7$,
we indeed have
\[
h(n+1)-h(n)\leq h'(n)=\frac{1}{2\sqrt{n+1}}\leq0.2.
\]
Finally, let $\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n}<\sqrt{n+1}-0.8$. Using $n\geq7$, we show that
$\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n}$ grows faster than $h(n)$:
\begin{align*}
\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n+1}-\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n} & = \frac{1}{2}-\frac{\mbox{\rm\bf E}_{n}^{2}}{2n} \geq \frac{1}{2}-\frac{(\sqrt{n+1}-0.8)^{2}}{2n} = \frac{160\sqrt{n+1}-164}{200n}\\[6pt]
& \geq \frac{\sqrt{n+1}}{2(n+1)} = h'(n) \geq h(n+1)-h(n),
\end{align*}
which concludes the proof. \hfill
\end{proof}
Together with Lemma~\ref{lem:opt_uniform}, we immediately get the following bound on the competitive ratio of any online algorithm.
\begin{restatable}{theorem}{thmsequentialsqrtlog}\label{thm:sequential_CR}
The competitive ratio of the best online algorithm for sequential
employment and a uniform distribution $X=U[0,1]$ is $\Theta\left(\sqrt{n} / \log n \right)$.
\end{restatable}
\section{Conclusion}
\label{sec:conclusion}
We considered prophet inequalities with a covering constraint and a minimization objective. We gave constant competitive algorithms for this type of problem and established concurrent employment as a necessary feature of such algorithms.
We note that our results extend to slightly more general settings, where
(a) we relax the covering constraint by associating a penalty~$B < \infty$ with time steps where no contract is active,
(b) multiple applicants arrive in each time step,
(c) applicants may be hired fractionally.
A crucial limitation of our model is the assumption that costs are distributed independently, and it remains an interesting question how to address correlated costs.
\section{Analysis of the Markov Chains}
\label{sec:markov}
In this section, we study the Markov chains that govern the evolution of the threshold values of our algorithms.
\subsection{Markov Chain \boldmath$\hat{M}(p,k)$}
\label{sec:markov_a}
We start with the simple Markov chain $\hat{M}(p,k)$ used in \S~\ref{sec:uniform_first} and \S~\ref{sec:unknown_distribution}. The Markov chain has states $0,\dots,k$ and transition probabilities as shown in Figure~\ref{fig:markov_a_appendix}.
\begin{figure}[bt]
\centering
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=0.3, every node/.style={scale=0.7}]
\matrix (m) [matrix of nodes, row sep=3em, column sep=5em,
nodes={draw, rectangle, line width=1, text centered, minimum size=2em}]
{ \\ $0$ & $1$ & $2$ & |[draw=none]|$\phantom{1k}\dots\phantom{1k}$ & $\!\!k\!-\!1\!\!$ & $k$ \\ };
\draw[->] (m-2-1) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$1$} (m-2-2);
\draw[->] (m-2-2) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$1-p$} (m-2-1);
\draw[->] (m-2-2) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$p$} (m-2-3);
\draw[->] (m-2-3) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$1-p$} (m-2-2);
\draw[->] (m-2-3) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$p$} (m-2-4);
\draw[->] (m-2-4) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$1-p$} (m-2-3);
\draw[->] (m-2-4) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$p$} (m-2-5);
\draw[->] (m-2-5) edge [bend left] node [midway,below] {$1-p$} (m-2-4);
\draw[->] (m-2-5) edge [bend left] node [midway,above] {$p$} (m-2-6);
\foreach \x [count=\y] in {2,3}{
}
\end{tikzpicture}
\caption{Markov chain used in \S~\ref{sec:uniform_first} and \S~\ref{sec:unknown_distribution}. Nodes correspond to states. \label{fig:markov_a_appendix}}
\end{figure}
\iffalse
First, we compute the hitting time of state $k$.
\begin{lemma}
\label{lem:markov_a_hitting}
Let $p > 1/2$ and $k \in \mathbb{N}$. Starting in state $0$ of Markov chain $\hat{M}(p,k)$, the expected hitting time of state $k$ is at most $\frac{e k}{e-2}$.
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
Let $h_{j}$ denote the hitting time of state $k$, when starting
from state $j$. We have\begin{subequations} \label{eq:recurrence}
\begin{align}
h_{k} & =0,\label{eq:recurrenceA}\\
h_{j} & =1+p h_{j+1}+(1-p) h_{j-1} & & \text{ for all }j\in\{1,\dots,k-1\},\label{eq:recurrenceB}\\
h_{0} & =1+h_{1}.\label{eq:recurrenceC}
\end{align}
\end{subequations}
Let $\beta=\frac{1-p}{p}$ and observe that $\beta<1$ as $p > 1/2$.
We proceed to show that the unique solution to (\ref{eq:recurrence})
is
\begin{align}
h_{j} &=\frac{k-j}{2p-1}-\frac{2p(1-p)(\beta^j-\beta^k)}{(2p-1)^2} \label{eq:SolToRecurrence}\\[6pt]
&\leq \frac{k-j}{2p-1} = \frac{e}{e-2}(k-j)\notag.
\end{align}
To this end, note that (\ref{eq:recurrenceA}) and (\ref{eq:recurrenceB}) form
a second order linear inhomogeneous recurrence relation on $h_0, \dots h_k$ with a one-dimensional
solution space. Since there is only one solution fulfilling (\ref{eq:recurrenceC})
among those, the recurrence (\ref{eq:recurrence}) is completely determined,
so it suffices to show that (\ref{eq:SolToRecurrence}) fulfills~(\ref{eq:recurrence}).
For (\ref{eq:recurrenceA}) we have that
\begin{align*}
h_{k} & =\frac{k-k}{2p-1} - \frac{2p(1-p)(\beta^k-\beta^k)}{(2p-1)^2} =0,
\end{align*}
and for \eqref{eq:recurrenceB} we have that
\begin{align*}
1 +p h_{j+1}+(1-p)h_{j-1}
& = 1 + \frac{k-p(j+1)-(1-p)(j-1)}{2p-1} - \frac{2p(1-p)(p\beta^{j+1} + (1-p)\beta^{j-1} -\beta^k)}{(2p-1)^2} \\[6pt]
& = 1 + \frac{k-j -2p+1}{2p-1} - \frac{2p(1-p)(\beta^{j} (p\beta + \frac{1-p}{\beta}) -\beta^k)}{(2p-1)^2} \\[6pt]
& = \frac{k-j}{2p-1} - \frac{2p(1-p)(\beta^{j} -\beta^k)}{(2p-1)^2} \\[6pt]
& = h_j.
\end{align*}
For \eqref{eq:recurrenceC} we have that
\begin{align*}
1+ h_1
& = 1 + \frac{k-1}{2p-1} - \frac{2p(1-p)(\beta-\beta^k)}{(2p-1)^2} \\[6pt]
& = 1 + \frac{k-1}{2p-1} - \frac{2p(1-p)(\frac{1-p}{p}-\beta^k)}{(2p-1)^2} \\[6pt]
& = \frac{k}{2p-1} + \frac{2p-2}{2p-1} - \frac{2p(1-p)(1-\beta^k)}{(2p-1)^2} - \frac{2p(1-p)(\frac{1-2p}{p})}{(2p-1)^2} \\[6pt]
& = \frac{k}{2p-1} - \frac{2p(1-p)(1-\beta^k)}{(2p-1)^2}\\[6pt]
&= h_0,
\end{align*}
which completes the proof.
\hfill
\end{proof}
Next, we compute the expected number of visits to each state.
\fi
In the following, we compute the expected number of visits to each state.
\begin{lemma}
\label{lem:markov_a_visit}
Let $p > 1/2$ and $k \in \mathbb{N}$. Starting in state $0$, the expected number of visits to each state~$j$ of the Markov chain $\hat{M}(p,k)$ is at most $\frac{1}{2p-1}$.
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
Let $v_{j}$ denote the
expected number of visits to state $j$, when starting from state
$0$. We derive that the values $v_j$, $j \in \{0,\dots,k\}$ satisfy the following equations
\begin{subequations} \label{eq:recurrence_exp_visits}
\begin{align}
v_{k} & = 1,\label{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_a1}\\[6pt]
v_{k} & = pv_{k-1}, \label{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_a2}\\[6pt]
v_{k-1} & = p v_{k-2},\label{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_b}\\[6pt]
v_{j} & =(1-p)v_{j+1}+p v_{j-1} & & \text{ for all }j\in\{2,\dots,k-2\},\label{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_c}\\[6pt]
v_{1} & = v_{0}+(1-p) v_{2},\label{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_d}\\[6pt]
v_{0} & =1 + (1-p)v_{1},\label{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_e}
\end{align}
\end{subequations} where \eqref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_a1} follows
from the fact that $k$ is the absorbing state, \eqref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_a2} uses that state $k$ is reached only from state $k-1$. Equation \eqref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_b}
follows since state $k-1$ can be reached from state
$k-2$ only. Equation \eqref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_c} follows from the fact, that we reach state $j$ from $j-1$ and $j+1$ and leave states $j-1$ and $j+1$ to $j$ with
a probability of $p$ and~$1-p$, respectively. As state~0 is left
with probability~$1$ towards its successor, Equation~(\ref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_d})
holds as special case. Further, for state $0$, we get Equation \eqref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_e}
since 0 is the starting state and can only be reached from state $1$.
Note that \eqref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_a1} and \eqref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_a2} imply $v_{k-1} = 1/p$ which by \eqref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_b} implies $v_{k-2} = 1/p^2$. With these start values \eqref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_c} uniquely defines a homogenous recurrence relation on $v_{1}, \dots, v_{k-1}$ with
\begin{align*}
v_{j} &= \frac{1}{p}v_{j+1} - \frac{1-p}{p}v_{j+2} & &\text{ for all $j\in \{2,\dots,k-2\}$}.
\intertext{Solving this recurrence by the method of characteristic equations yields that the characteristic polynomial $x^2 - \frac{1}{p}x + \frac{1-p}{p}$ has roots $\frac{1}{p}-1$ and $1$ so that the explicit solution is}
v_{j} &= \lambda_1 \biggl(\frac{1}{p} -1\biggr)^{\!\!k-j-1} + \lambda_2
\end{align*}
for some parameters $\lambda_1, \lambda_2 \in \mathbb{R}$. Choosing $\lambda_1$ and $\lambda_2$ such that the equations $v_{k-1} = 1/p$ and $v_{k-2} = 1/p^2$ are satisfied gives
\begin{align*}
\lambda_1 &= \frac{1}{2p - 1} \biggl(1- \frac{1}{p}\biggr), & \lambda_2 &= \frac{1}{p} - \frac{1}{2p - 1} \biggl(1- \frac{1}{p}\biggr).
\end{align*}
As a result, for~$j \in \{1,\dots,k\}$, we obtain
\begin{align}
v_{j} &= \frac{1}{2p - 1} \biggl(1- \frac{1}{p}\biggr)\biggl(\frac{1}{p} -1\biggr)^{\!\!k-j-1} + \frac{1}{p} - \frac{1}{2p - 1} \biggl(1- \frac{1}{p}\biggr)\notag\\[6pt]
&= \frac{1}{2p-1}\biggl[\biggl(\frac{1}{p}-1\biggr)-\biggl(\frac{1}{p}-1\biggr)^{\!\!k-j} \biggr] + \frac{1}{p}. \label{eq:recursion_gone}
\end{align}
Finally, $v_0$ is defined via \eqref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_e}. Observe that, together with \eqref{eq:recursion_gone}, this satisfies \eqref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_d} as required.
\iffalse
We proceed by showing that the unique solution to recurrence defined by \eqref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_a}, \eqref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_b} and \eqref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_c}
is given by
\begin{align}
v_{j}=\frac{1}{2p-1} \left[-\left(\frac{1}{p}-1\right)^{\!\!k-j}+\frac{1}{p}-1\right]+\frac{1}{p}\quad\text{for }j\in\{2,\ldots,k-1\}.\label{eq:recursion_gone}
\end{align}
Note that (\ref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_a}) and (\ref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_c})
define a second order linear homogeneous recurrence relation with
the one-dimensional solution space
\begin{align*}
v_{j}=a\left[\left(\frac{1}{p}-1\right)^{\!\!k-j}-\frac{1}{p}+1\right]+\frac{1}{p},
\end{align*}
for $a\in\mathbb{R}$, where only
$a=-\frac{1}{2p-1}$
fulfills \eqref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_b}.
For the sake of completeness, we proceed to show that (\ref{eq:recursion_gone})
fulfills (\ref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_a}), (\ref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_b}), and (\ref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_c}). For (\ref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_a})
we have
\begin{align*}
v_{k-1}=a\left[\left(\frac{1}{p}-1\right)^{\!\!1}-\frac{1}{p}+1\right]+\frac{1}{p} = \frac{1}{p}.
\end{align*}
For (\ref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_c}) we have
\begin{align*}
(1-p)v_{j+1}+pv_{j-1} & =(1-p)\left[a\left(\left(\frac{1}{p}-1\right)^{\!\!k-j-1}-\frac{1}{p}+1\right)+\frac{1}{p}\right] +p\left[a\left(\left(\frac{1}{p}-1\right)^{\!\!k-j+1}-\frac{1}{p}+1\right)+\frac{1}{p}\right]\\[6pt]
& =(1-p)a\left(\frac{1}{p}-1\right)^{\!\!k-j-1} -(1-p)a\left(1-\frac{1}{p}\right)+\frac{1-p}{p}\\[6pt]
&\qquad +pa\left(\frac{1}{p}-1\right)^{\!\!k-j+1} -pa\left(1-\frac{1}{p}\right)+1\\[6pt]
& =a\left(\frac{1}{p}-1\right)^{\!\!k-j-1}\left(1-p+p\left(\frac{1}{p}-1\right)^{2}\right)+a\left(\frac{1}{p}-1\right)+\frac{1}{p}\\[6pt]
& =a\left[\left(\frac{1}{p}-1\right)^{\!\!k-j}-\frac{1}{p}+1\right]+\frac{1}{p}\\[6pt]
& =v_{j}.
\end{align*}
For Equation~(\ref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_b}), we have
\begin{align*}
p v_{k-2} & =p\left[a\left[\left(\frac{1}{p}-1\right)^{2}-\frac{1}{p}+1\right]+\frac{1}{p}\right]\\[6pt]
& =p\left[a\left(\frac{1-2p+p^2}{p^2}-\frac{1-p}{p}\right)+\frac{1}{p}\right]\\
& =-\frac{1}{2p-1} \frac{1-3p+2p^2}{p}+1\\
& =\frac{1}{p} = v_{k-1}.
\end{align*}
\fi
It remains to show that $v_j \leq \frac{1}{2p-1}$ for all $j \in \{0,\dots,k\}$. For $j\in \{1,\ldots,k-1\}$
we use Equation~(\ref{eq:recursion_gone}) and the fact that $p>\notnicefrac{1}{2}$ to obtain
\begin{align*}
v_{j} & =\frac{1}{2p-1}\left[\biggl(\frac{1}{p}-1\biggr) -\left(\frac{1}{p}-1\right)^{k-j}\right]+\frac{1}{p}\\[6pt]
& \leq\frac{1}{2p-1}\left(\frac{1}{p}-1\right)+\frac{1}{p}\\
& = \frac{p}{p\left(2p-1\right)} =\frac{1}{2p-1}.
\end{align*}
For $j=0$ we have by Equation~\eqref{eq:recurrence_exp_visits_e}
\begin{align*}
v_0 = 1 + (1-p)v_1 \leq 1 +\frac{1-p}{2p-1} = \frac{p}{2p-1} \leq \frac{1}{2p-1}
\end{align*}
which completes the proof. \hfill
\end{proof}
\subsection{Markov Chain \boldmath$\hat{N}(p,k)$}
\label{sec:markov_b}
In this section, we study the Markov chain $\hat{N}(p,k)$ used in \S~\ref{sec:uniform2} and \S~\ref{arbitrary_distributions}. The Markov chain has states $A_j$ and $B_j$, for $j\in\{0,\dots,k\}$ and transition probabilities as shown in Figure~\ref{fig:markov_b_appendix}.
We start to bound the expected number of transitions from an $A$-state to a $B$-state.
\begin{figure}[bt]
\centering
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=0.3, every node/.style={scale=0.7}]
\matrix (m) [matrix of nodes, row sep=3.5em, column sep=4em,
nodes={draw, rectangle, line width=1, text centered, minimum size=2em}]
{ $B_0$ & $B_1$ & $B_2$ &|[draw=none]| $\phantom{B_1}\dots\phantom{B_1}$ & $\!\!\!B_{k\!-\!1}\!\!\!$ & $B_{k}$ \\
$A_0$ & $A_1$ & $A_2$ &|[draw=none]| $\phantom{A_1}\dots\phantom{A_1}$ & $\!\!\!A_{k\!-\!1}\!\!\!$ & $A_{k}$ \\ };
\draw[->] (m-2-1) -- (m-1-1) node [above,midway,sloped] {$1$};
\draw[->] (m-2-2) -- (m-1-2) node [above,midway,sloped] {$p$};
\draw[->] (m-2-3) -- (m-1-3) node [above,midway,sloped] {$p$};
\draw[->] (m-2-5) -- (m-1-5) node [above,midway,sloped,rotate=180] {$p$};
\draw[->] (m-2-6) -- (m-1-6) node [above,midway,sloped,rotate=180] {$p$};
\draw[->] (m-2-2) -- (m-2-1) node [below,midway] {$1-p$};
\draw[->] (m-2-3) -- (m-2-2) node [below,midway] {$1-p$};
\draw[->] (m-2-4) -- (m-2-3) node [below,midway] {$1-p$};
\draw[->] (m-2-5) -- (m-2-4) node [below,midway] {$1-p$};
\draw[->] (m-2-6) -- (m-2-5) node [below,midway] {$1-p$};
\foreach \x [count=\y] in {2,3,4,5,6}{
\draw[->] (m-1-\y) -- (m-1-\x) node [above,midway,sloped] {$\nicefrac{1}{2}$};
\draw[->] (m-1-\y) -- (m-2-\x) node [below,midway,sloped] {$\nicefrac{1}{2}$};
}
\end{tikzpicture}
\caption{Markov chain $\hat{N}(p,k)$ with homogenous transition probability $p$ and $k+1$ states used in \S~\ref{sec:uniform2} and \S~\ref{arbitrary_distributions}. Nodes correspond to states. \label{fig:markov_b_appendix}}
\end{figure}
\begin{lemma}
\label{lem:markov_b_transitions1}
Starting in state $A_0$ of Markov chain $\hat{N}(p,k)$, the expected number of transitions from an $A$-state to a $B$-state is at most
\begin{align*}
h = \frac{kp}{3p-1} - \frac{4p(1-2p)}{(3p-1)^2} + \biggl(\frac{1-p}{3p-1}\biggr)^{\!\!2}\!\!\biggl(\frac{2(1-p)}{1+p}\biggr)^{\!\!k}.
\end{align*}
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
Let $a_{j}$ (respectively~$b_{j}$) denote the expected
number of transitions from an $A$-state to a $B$-state, when starting
from state $A_{j}$ (respectively~$B_{j}$). We get \begin{subequations}
\label{eq:recurrence2}
\begin{align}
b_{k} & =0,\label{eq:recurrenceB1}\\[6pt]
b_{j} & =\frac{1}{2}b_{j+1}+\frac{1}{2}a_{j+1} & & \text{ for all }j\in\{0,\dots,k-1\},\label{eq:recurrenceB2}\\[6pt]
a_{j} & =p(b_{j}+1)+(1-p) a_{j-1} & & \text{ for all }j\in\{1,\dots,k\},\label{eq:recurrenceA1}\\[6pt]
a_{0} & =1+b_{0}.\label{eq:recurrenceA2}
\end{align}
\end{subequations}
Defining $\beta=\frac{2(1-p)}{1+p}$, for $j\in\{0,\ldots,k\}$, it is straightforward to check that (\ref{eq:recurrenceB1}), (\ref{eq:recurrenceB2}) and
(\ref{eq:recurrenceA1}) are fulfilled by
\begin{align*}
a_{j} & =\frac{(k-j+2)p}{3p-1}-\beta^{j}\frac{2p(1-p)}{(3p-1)^{2}}+\beta^{k}\frac{(1-p)^{2}}{(3p-1)^{2}},\quad\text{and}\\[6pt]
b_{j} & =\frac{(k-j)p}{3p-1}-\beta^{j}\frac{(1-p)^{2}}{(3p-1)^{2}}+\beta^{k}\frac{(1-p)^{2}}{(3p-1)^{2}}.
\end{align*}
It follows that the expected number of transitions from an $A$-state
to a $B$-state when starting at $A_{0}$ is
\begin{align*}
a_{0} & =\frac{(k+2)p}{3p-1}-\frac{2p(1-p)}{(3p-1)^{2}}+\beta^{k}\frac{(1-p)^{2}}{(3p-1)^{2}} \\
&=\frac{kp}{3p-1}-\frac{4p(1-2p)}{(3p-1)^{2}}+\frac{2^{k}(1-p)^{k+2}}{(3p-1)^{2}(1+p)^{k}},
\end{align*}
which completes the proof. \hfill
\end{proof}
\begin{lemma}
\label{lem:markov_b_transitions2}
Starting in state $A_0$ of Markov chain $\hat{N}(p,k)$ for each $j \in \{0,\dots,k\!-\!1\}$ the expected number of transitions from $B_j$ to $A_{j+1}$ is at most $\frac{p}{3p-1}$.
\end{lemma}
\begin{proof}{Proof.}
As the expected number of such transitions is half the expected number of
visits to state~$B_j$, it suffices to bound the latter quantity.
Suppose we are in state $B_j$.
The probability of coming back to $B_j$ equals the probability of hitting~$A_j$ from~$B_j$.
Denote by $a_i(j)$, $b_i(j)$ the hitting probability of state~$A_i$ from~$A_j$ and $B_j$, respectively. We have
\begin{subequations}
\label{eq:recurrence_arbitrary}
\begin{align}
b_i(k) & =0,\label{eq:recurrence_arbitrary1}\\[6pt]
b_i(j) & =\frac{1}{2} b_i(j+1)+\frac{1}{2}a_i(j+1) & & \text{ for all }j\in\{i,\dots,k-1\},\label{eq:recurrence_arbitrary2}\\[6pt]
a_i(j) & =p b_i(j)+(1-p) a_i(j-1) & & \text{ for all }j\in\{i+1,\dots,k\},\label{eq:recurrence_arbitrary3}\\[6pt]
a_i(i) & =1\label{eq:recurrence_arbitrary4}
\end{align}
\end{subequations}
Let $\beta= \frac{2(1-p)}{p+1} < 1$ (as $p>\nicefrac{1}{3}$). It is easy to check that for $j\in\{i, \ldots, k\}$
\begin{align*}
a_i(j) & \le \beta^{j-i} \\
b_i(j) & \le \frac{1-p}{2p}\beta^{j-i} ,
\end{align*}
gives an upper bound on the solution of \eqref{eq:recurrence_arbitrary}
as these values satisfy equalities \eqref{eq:recurrence_arbitrary2}, \eqref{eq:recurrence_arbitrary3}, \eqref{eq:recurrence_arbitrary4}, and only overestimate \eqref{eq:recurrence_arbitrary1}.
We can interpret the visits to state~$B_j$ after the first visit as a geometric random variable with success probability~$1-b_j(j)$.
Thus, the expected number of visits to~$B_j$ is given by
\begin{align*}
1 + \frac{1-(1-b_j(j))}{1-b_j(j)} = \frac{1}{1-b_j(j)} & \leq \frac{1}{1-\frac{1-p}{2p}} = \frac{2p}{3p-1}.
\end{align*}
We conclude that the expected number of transitions from $B_j$ to $A_{j+1}$ is at most $\frac{p}{3p-1}$, proving the claim. \hfill
\end{proof}
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaArXiv"
}
| 3,914
|
{"url":"https:\/\/www.physicsforums.com\/threads\/motion-in-a-circle.600191\/","text":"# Motion in a circle\n\n1. Apr 25, 2012\n\n### nikeadidas\n\nI was thinking about how planets revolve around sun. Although they subscribe a elliptical motion, my question is very similar.\nA heavy body exerts a force on a point mass, say with an acceleration of \"a\". If we take the direction of this acceleration to be X, what is the linear uniform velocity with which it must travel in Y direction, so that the body travels in a perfect circle?..\nCan we analyze this without taking any force into consideration, I mean the force exerted could be gravitational or magnetic, it doesn't matter. What matters is the acceleration \"a\", and the linear uniform velocity \"u\".\n\n2. Apr 25, 2012\n\n### pellman\n\nIf the motion of the point mass is such that its direction is perpendicular to the direction of the acceleration and its speed is $$v=\\sqrt{ar}$$ where r is the distance between the heavy body and the point mass, then the point mass will describe a circle of radius r around the heavy body.\n\nhttp:\/\/en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/Circular_motion\n\nIf the force between the two bodies does not have a 1\/r^2 dependency, then tiny deviations from circular motion may cause the orbit to be unstable.\n\n3. Apr 25, 2012\n\n### nikeadidas\n\nThanx..i want to actually try to describe the circular motion with time as variable. X co-ordinate of the motion would be U*t, while Y co-ordinate would be (-a*t^2\/2). For a circle, since X^2+Y^2= R^2, how do I proceed to describe the circular motion, such that by only changing the value of t in small intervals, the corresponding values of X&Y co-ordinates would describe a circle.\n\nShare this great discussion with others via Reddit, Google+, Twitter, or Facebook","date":"2018-06-22 23:31:02","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 0, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.36045053601264954, \"perplexity\": 535.1480643837816}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": false}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2018-26\/segments\/1529267864822.44\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20180622220911-20180623000911-00299.warc.gz\"}"}
| null | null |
Gmina Poświętne may refer to any of the following rural administrative districts in Poland:
Gmina Poświętne, Podlaskie Voivodeship
Gmina Poświętne, Łódź Voivodeship
Gmina Poświętne, Masovian Voivodeship
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaWikipedia"
}
| 131
|
import sqlite3
def init(dbPath):
print("[DB] Starting database")
global path
path = dbPath
prepare("gamedata.db")
c.execute("CREATE TABLE IF NOT EXISTS groups (userID INTEGER, posX INTEGER DEFAULT 0, posY INTEGER DEFAULT 0)")
end()
def prepare(dbName):
global db
global c
db = sqlite3.connect(path + dbName)
c = db.cursor()
def newGroup(username):
print("[DB] Creating new group")
prepare("gamedata.db")
c.execute("INSERT INTO groups (userID) VALUES (" + username + ")")
db.commit()
db.close()
def end():
try:
db.commit()
db.close()
print("[DB] Closing the connection to the database was succesful")
return True
except:
print("[DB] Closing the connection to the database failed")
return False
if __name__ == "__main__":
print("This is a module you fool!")
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
}
| 8,137
|
{"url":"https:\/\/socratic.org\/questions\/how-do-you-convert-45-700-into-scientific-form","text":"# How do you convert 45,700 into scientific form?\n\n$4.57 \\cdot {10}^{4}$\nMove the decimal to the left four number spaces to get $4.57$. Then, multiply $4.57$ by ${10}^{4}$ because you moved the decimal four spaces. The answer is $4.57 \\cdot {10}^{4}$.","date":"2020-02-25 21:00:30","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 5, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 0, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.6139382719993591, \"perplexity\": 572.5116303520659}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2020-10\/segments\/1581875146160.21\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20200225202625-20200225232625-00003.warc.gz\"}"}
| null | null |
Q: A coalgebra structure on compact operators
Is there a coalgebra structure $\Delta_{n}$ on $M_{n}(\mathbb{C})$ which is compatible with the natural embedding $i_{n:}M_{n}(\mathbb{C})\to M_{n+1}(\mathbb{C})$ with $i_{n}(A)= A\oplus 0$. That is $(i_{n}\otimes i_{n})\circ \Delta_{n}=\Delta_{n+1}\circ i_{n}$.
If the answer is yes, can this method be used to equip the space of compact operators, the (topological) direct limit of $M_{n}(\mathbb{C}),s$, with a coalgebraic structure?
A: For $V$ finite-dimensional, the algebra $\hom(V, V) \cong V^\ast \otimes V$ is naturally self-dual, and this duality may be used to transfer an algebra structure on $\hom(V, V)$ to a coalgebra structure on $\hom(V, V)$, and vice-versa. (Notice that the duality functor $\text{Vect}^{op} \to \text{Vect}$ on finite-dimensional spaces induces a functor from coalgebras to algebras, and vice-versa.)
The map $M_n(\mathbb{C}) \to M_{n+1}(\mathbb{C})$ mapping $A \mapsto A \oplus 0$ is dual to the map $M_{n+1}(\mathbb{C}) \to M_n(\mathbb{C})$ that takes an $(n+1) \times (n+1)$ matrix to the $n \times n$ matrix made from the first $n$ rows and columns. If we choose the algebra structure on the spaces $M_n(\mathbb{C})$ to be not the usual matrix multiplication but the one given by entrywise multiplication, then these are algebra maps and they dualize to coalgebra maps. This gives an affirmative answer to the question. However, this is clearly highly dependent on basis and doesn't strike me as terribly interesting.
The forgetful functor $\text{Coalg} \to \text{Vect}$ creates colimits, and so the colimit of a chain of coalgebra maps $M_n(\mathbb{C}) \to M_{n+1}(\mathbb{C})$ is created from the colimit in $\text{Vect}$. This answers the second question affirmatively.
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{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
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\section*{ 1. Introduction and Main Theorem}
\vspace{0.3cm}
{ Let ${\bf R}^{n} (n\geq3)$ denote the $n$-dimensional Euclidean
space with points $x=(x_1,x_2,\cdots,x_{n-1},x_{n})=(x',x_n)$, where
$x' \in {\bf R}^{n-1}$ and $x_{n} \in {\bf R}$. The boundary and
closure of an open $\Omega$ of ${\bf R}^{n}$ are denoted by
$\partial{\Omega}$
and $\overline{\Omega}$ respectively.
The upper half-space $H$ is the set
$H=\{x=(x',x_n)\in {\bf R}^{n}:\; x_n>0\}$, whose boundary is
$\partial{H}$ .
We write $B(x,\rho)$ and $\partial B(x,\rho) $ for the open ball
and the sphere of radius $\rho$ centered at $x$ in ${\bf R}^{n}$.
We identify ${\bf R}^{n}$ with ${\bf R}^{n-1}\times {\bf R}$ and
${\bf R}^{n-1}$ with $ {\bf R}^{n-1}\times \{0\}$,
with this convention we then have $ \partial {H}={\bf R}^{n-1}$,
writing typical points $x,\ y \in {\bf R}^{n}$ as $x=(x',x_n),\
y=(y',y_n),$ where $x'=(x_1,x_2,\cdots,x_{n-1}),\
y'=(y_1,y_2,\cdots y_{n-1}) \in {\bf R}^{n-1}$ and putting
$$
x\cdot y=\sum_{j=1}^{n}x_jy_j=x'\cdot y'+x_ny_n,\ \ |x|=\sqrt{x\cdot
x},\ \ |x'|=\sqrt{x'\cdot x'}.
$$
For $x\in{\bf R}^{n}\backslash\{0\}$, let([\textbf{10}])
$$
E(x)=-r_n|x|^{2-n},
$$
where $|x|$ is the Euclidean norm, $r_n=\frac{1}{(n-2)\omega_{n}}$
and $\omega_{n}=\frac{2\pi^{\frac{n}{2}}}{\Gamma(\frac{n}{2})}$ is
the surface area of the unit sphere in ${\bf R}^{n} $. We know that
$E$ is
locally integrable in ${\bf R}^{n} $.\\
The Green function $G(x,y)$ for the upper half space
$H$ is given by([\textbf{10}])
$$
G(x,y)=E(x-y)-E(x-y^{\ast}) \qquad x,y\in\overline{H} ,\ x\neq y,
\eqno{(1.1)}
$$
where $^{\ast}$ denotes reflection in the boundary plane $\partial
H$ just as $y^{\ast}=(y_1,y_2,\cdots,y_{n-1},-y_n)$, then we define
the Poisson kernel $P(x,y')$ when $x\in H$ and $y'\in \partial H $
by
$$
P(x,y')=-\frac{\partial G(x,y)}{\partial
y_n}\bigg|_{y_n=0}=\frac{2x_n}{\omega_n|x-(y',0)|^n}. \eqno{(1.2)}
$$
The Dirichlet problem of upper half space is to find a function
$u$ satisfying
$$
u\in C^2(H), \eqno{(1.3)}
$$
$$
\Delta u=0, x\in H, \eqno{(1.4)}
$$
$$
\lim_{x\rightarrow x'}u(x)=f(x')\ {\rm nontangentially \ a.e.}x'\in \partial H, \eqno{(1.5)}
$$
where $f$ is a measurable function of ${\bf R}^{n-1} $. The Poisson
integral of the upper half space is defined by
$$
u(x)=P[f](x)=\int_{{\bf R}^{n-1}}P(x,y')f(y')dy'.\eqno{(1.6)}
$$
As we all know, the Poisson integral $P[f]$ exists if
$$
\int_{{\bf R}^{n-1}}\frac{|f(y')|}{1+|y'|^n} dy'<\infty.
$$
(see [\textbf{1,2}] and [\textbf{11}])In this paper, we will
consider measurable functions $f$ in ${\bf R}^{n-1}$ satisfying
$$
\int_{{\bf R}^{n-1}}\frac{|f(y')|^p}{(1+|y'|)^{\gamma}}
dy'<\infty.\eqno{(1.7)}
$$
Siegel-Talvila([\textbf{5}]) have proved the
following result:
\vspace{0.2cm}
\noindent
{\bf Theorem A } Let $f$ be a measurable function in ${\bf R}^{n-1}$
satisfying (1.7). Then the harmonic function $v(x)$ defined by (1.6)
satisfies (1.3), (1.4), (1.5) and
$$
v(x)= o(x_n^{1-n}|x|^{n+m}) \quad {\rm as} \ |x|\rightarrow\infty.
$$
In order to describe the asymptotic behaviour of subharmonic functions
in half-spaces([\textbf{8,9}] and [\textbf{10}]),
we establish the following theorems.
\vspace{0.2cm}
\noindent
{\bf Theorem 1} Let $1\leq p<\infty,\ \frac{1}{p}+\frac{1}{q}=1$
and
$$
-(n-1)(p-1)<\gamma <(n-1)+p \quad {\rm in \ case} \ p>1;
$$
$$
0<\gamma \leq n \quad {\rm in \ case} \ p=1.
$$
If $f$ is a measurable function in ${\bf R}^{n-1}$ satisfying (1.4)
and $v(x)$ is the harmonic function defined by (1.8), then there
exists $x_j\in H,\ \rho_j>0,$ such that
$$
\sum
_{j=1}^{\infty}\frac{\rho_j^{pn-\alpha}}{|x_j|^{pn-\alpha}}<\infty
\eqno{(1.8)}
$$
holds and
$$
v(x)=
o(x_n^{1-\frac{\alpha}{p}}|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n+\frac{\alpha}{p}})
\quad {\rm as} \ |x|\rightarrow\infty \eqno{(1.9)}
$$
holds in $H-G$. where $ G=\bigcup_{j=1}^\infty B(x_j,\rho_j)$ and
$0< \alpha\leq n$.
\vspace{0.2cm}
\noindent
{\bf Remark 1 } If $\alpha=n$, $p=1$ and $\gamma=n$, then (1.8) is a finite sum,
the set $G$ is the union of finite balls, so (1.9) holds in $H$. This is just
the case $m=0$ of the result of Siegel-Talvila.
\vspace{0.2cm}
\noindent
{\bf Remark 2 } When $\gamma=-(n-1)(p-1)$, $p>1$, we have
$$
v(x)=
o(x_n^{1-\frac{\alpha}{p}}(\log|x|)^{\frac{1}{q}}|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n+\frac{\alpha}{p}})
\quad {\rm as} \ |x|\rightarrow\infty \eqno{(1.10)}
$$
holds in $H-G$.
Next, we will generalize Theorem 1 to subharmonic functions.
\vspace{0.2cm}
\noindent
{\bf Theorem 2 } Let $p$ and $\gamma$ be as in Theorem 1. If $f$ is
a measurable function in ${\bf R}^{n-1}$ satisfying (1.7) and $\mu$
is a positive Borel measure satisfying
$$
\int_H\frac{y_n^p}{(1+|y|)^\gamma} d\mu(y)<\infty \eqno{(1.10)}
$$
and
$$
\int_H\frac{1}{(1+|y|)^{n-1}} d\mu(y)<\infty.
$$
Write the subharmonic function
$$
u(x)= v(x)+h(x), \quad x\in H
$$
where $v(x)$ is the harmonic function defined by (1.8), $h(x)$ is
defined by
$$
h(x)= \int_H G(x,y)d\mu(y)
$$
and $G(x,y)$ is defined by (1.1). Then there exists $x_j\in H,\
\rho_j>0,$ such that (1.8) holds and
$$
u(x)=
o(x_n^{1-\frac{\alpha}{p}}|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n+\frac{\alpha}{p}})
\quad {\rm as} \ |x|\rightarrow\infty
$$
holds in $H-G$. where $ G=\bigcup_{j=1}^\infty B(x_j,\rho_j)$ and
$0< \alpha<2$.
\vspace{0.2cm}
\noindent
{\bf Remark 3 } When $\gamma=-(n-1)(p-1)$, $p>1$, we have
$$
u(x)=
o(x_n^{1-\frac{\alpha}{p}}(\log|x|)^{\frac{1}{q}}|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n+\frac{\alpha}{p}})
\quad {\rm as} \ |x|\rightarrow\infty \eqno{(1.10)}
$$
holds in $H-G$.
\vspace{0.4cm}
\section*{2. Proof of Theorem }
\vspace{0.3cm}
Let $\mu$ be a positive Borel measure in ${\bf R}^n,\ \beta\geq0$,
the maximal function $M(d\mu)(x)$ of order $\beta$ is defined by
$$
M(d\mu)(x)=\sup_{ 0<r<\infty}\frac{\mu(B(x,r))}{r^\beta},
$$
then the maximal function $M(d\mu)(x):{\bf R}^n \rightarrow
[0,\infty)$ is lower semicontinuous, hence measurable. To see this,
for any $ \lambda >0 $, let $D(\lambda)=\{x\in{\bf
R}^{n}:M(d\mu)(x)>\lambda\}$. Fix $x \in D(\lambda)$, then there
exists
$r>0$ such that $\mu(B(x,r))>tr^\beta$ for some $t>\lambda$, and
there exists $ \delta>0$ satisfying
$(r+\delta)^\beta<\frac{tr^\beta}{\lambda}$. If $|y-x|<\delta$, then
$B(y,r+\delta)\supset B(x,r)$, therefore $\mu(B(y,r+\delta))\geq
tr^\beta >\lambda(r+\delta)^\beta$. Thus $B(x,\delta)\subset
D(\lambda)$. This proves that $D(\lambda)$ is open for each
$\lambda>0$.
In order to obtain the results, we
need these lemmas below:
\vspace{0.2cm}
\noindent
{\bf Lemma 1 } Let $\mu$ be a positive Borel measure in ${\bf
R}^n,\ \beta\geq0,\ \mu({\bf R}^n)<\infty,$ for any $ \lambda \geq
5^{\beta} \mu({\bf R}^n)$, set
$$
E(\lambda)=\{x\in{\bf R}^{n}:|x|\geq2,M(d\mu)(x) >
\frac{\lambda}{|x|^{\beta}}\}
$$
then there exists $ x_j\in E(\lambda)\ ,\ \rho_j> 0,\
j=1,2,\cdots$, such that
$$
E(\lambda) \subset \bigcup_{j=1}^\infty B(x_j,\rho_j) \eqno{(2.1)}
$$
and
$$
\sum _{j=1}^{\infty}\frac{\rho_j^{\beta}}{|x_j|^{\beta}}\leq
\frac{3\mu({\bf R}^n)5^{\beta}}{\lambda} .\eqno{(2.2)}
$$
Proof: Let $E_k(\lambda)=\{x\in E(\lambda):2^k\leq |x|<2^{k+1}\}$,
then for any $ x \in E_k(\lambda),$ there exists $ r(x)>0$, such
that $\mu(B(x,r(x))) >\lambda(\frac{r(x)}{|x|})^{\beta} $, therefore
$r(x)\leq 2^{k-1}$.
Since $E_k(\lambda)$ can be covered
by
the union of a family of balls $\{B(x,r(x)):x\in E_k(\lambda) \}$,
by the Vitali Lemma([\textbf{6}]), there exists $ \Lambda_k\subset E_k(\lambda)$,
$\Lambda_k$ is at most countable, such that $\{B(x,r(x)):x\in
\Lambda_k \}$ are disjoint and
$$
E_k(\lambda) \subset
\cup_{x\in \Lambda_k} B(x,5r(x)),
$$
so
$$
E(\lambda)=\cup_{k=1}^\infty E_k(\lambda) \subset \cup_{k=1}^\infty
\cup_{x\in \Lambda_k} B(x,5r(x)).\eqno{(2.3)}
$$
On the other hand, note that $ \cup_{x\in \Lambda_k} B(x,r(x)) \subset \{x:2^{k-1}\leq
|x|<2^{k+2}\} $, so that
$$
\sum_{x \in \Lambda_k}\frac{(5r(x))^{\beta}}{|x|^{\beta}}
\leq 5^\beta\sum_{x\in\Lambda_k}\frac{\mu(B(x,r(x)))}{\lambda} \leq
\frac{5^\beta}{\lambda} \mu\{x:2^{k-1}\leq |x|<2^{k+2}\}.
$$
Hence we obtain
$$
\sum _{k=1}^{\infty}\sum
_{x \in \Lambda_k}\frac{(5r(x))^{\beta}}{|x|^{\beta}}
\leq
\sum _{k=1}^{\infty}\frac{5^\beta}{\lambda} \mu\{x:2^{k-1}\leq |x|<2^{k+2}\}
\leq
\frac{3\mu({\bf R}^n)5^{\beta}}{\lambda}.
$$
Rearrange $ \{x:x \in \Lambda_k,k=1,2,\cdots\} $ and $
\{5r(x):x \in \Lambda_k,k=1,2,\cdots\}
$, we get $\{x_j\}$
and $\{\rho_j\}$ such that
(2.1) and
(2.2) hold.
\vspace{0.2cm}
\noindent
{\bf Lemma 2 } The kernel $\frac{1}{|x-y|^n}$ has the following
estimates:\\
(1) If $|y|\leq \frac{|x|}{2}$, then $\frac{1}{|x-y|^n}\leq
\frac{2^n}{|x|^n}$;\\
(2) If $|y|> \frac{|x|}{2}$, then $\frac{1}{|x-y|^n}\leq
\frac{2^n}{|y|^n}$.\\
Throughout the proof, $A$
denote various positive constants.
\emph{Proof of Theorem 1}
We prove only the case $p>1$; the proof of the case $p=1$ is similar. Suppose
\begin{eqnarray*}
&G_1& =\{y'\in {\bf R}^{n-1}: 1<|y'|\leq \frac{|x|}{2}\},\\
&G_2& =\{y'\in {\bf R}^{n-1}: \frac{|x|}{2}<|y'| \leq 2|x|\}, \\
&G_3& =\{y'\in {\bf R}^{n-1}: |y'|>2|x|\}, \\
&G_4& =\{y'\in {\bf R}^{n-1}: |y'|\leq 1\}. \\
\end{eqnarray*}
Define the measure $dm(y')$ by
$$
dm(y')=\frac{|f(y')|^p}{(1+|y'|)^{\gamma}} dy'
$$
For any $\varepsilon >0$, there exists $R_\varepsilon >2$, such that
$$
\int_{|y'|\geq
R_\varepsilon}dm(y')\leq\frac{\varepsilon^p}{5^{pn-\alpha}}.
$$
For every Lebesgue measurable set $E \subset {\bf R}^{n-1}$ , the
measure $m^{(\varepsilon)}$ defined by $m^{(\varepsilon)}(E)
=m(E\cap\{x'\in{\bf R}^{n-1}:|x'|\geq R_\varepsilon\}) $ satisfies
$m^{(\varepsilon)}({\bf
R}^{n-1})\leq\frac{\varepsilon^p}{5^{pn-\alpha}}$, write
\begin{eqnarray*}
&v_1(x)& =\int_{G_1} P(x,y')f(y')
dy',\\
&v_2(x)&=\int_{G_2} P(x,y')f(y')
dy', \\
&v_3(x)&=\int_{G_3} P(x,y')f(y')
dy', \\
&v_4(x)&=\int_{G_4} P(x,y')f(y')
dy', \\
\end{eqnarray*}
then
$$
v(x) =v_1(x)+v_2(x)+v_3(x)+v_4(x). \eqno{(2.3)}
$$
Let $ E_1(\lambda)=\{x\in{\bf R}^{n}:|x|\geq2,\exists
t>0,m^{(\varepsilon)}(B(x,t)\cap{\bf R}^{n-1}
)>\lambda^p(\frac{t}{|x|})^{pn-\alpha}\}$, therefore, if $ |x|\geq
2R_\varepsilon$ and $x \notin E_1(\lambda)
$, then we have
$$
\forall t>0,\ m^{(\varepsilon)}(B(x,t)\cap{\bf R}^{n-1}
)\leq\lambda^p(\frac{t}{|x|})^{pn-\alpha}.
$$
First, if $\gamma >-(n-1)(p-1)$, then $\frac{\gamma q}{p}
+(n-1)>0$.
For $r >1$, we have
$$
v_1(x)=\int_{G_1\cap B(0,r) } P(x,y')f(y') dy' +\int_{G_1-B(0,r) }
P(x,y')f(y') dy'=v_{11}(x)+v_{12}(x).
$$
If $|x|>2r$, then we obtain by Lemma 2 (1) and Holder's inequality
\begin{eqnarray*}
|v_{11}(x)|
&\leq& \int_{B(0,r)-B(0,1)}\frac{ 2x_n}{\omega_n}\frac{2^n}{|x|^n}|f(y')| dy' \\
&\leq& \frac{ 2^{n+1}}{\omega_n}\frac{x_n}{|x|^n}
\bigg(\int_{B(0,r)-B(0,1)}\frac{|f(y')|^p}{|y'|^\gamma}
dy'\bigg)^{1/p}\bigg(\int_{B(0,r)-B(0,1)}|y'|^{\frac{\gamma q}{p}}
dy'\bigg)^{1/q}, \\
\end{eqnarray*}
since
$$
\int_{B(0,r)-B(0,1)}|y'|^{\frac{\gamma q}{p}} dy'\leq
\omega_{n-1}\frac{1}{\frac{\gamma q}{p}+n-1}r^{\frac{\gamma
q}{p}+n-1} ,
$$
so that
$$
v_{11}(x)= o(x_n|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n}) \quad {\rm
as} \ |x|\rightarrow\infty . \eqno{(1.9)}
$$
Moreover, we have similarly
\begin{eqnarray*}
|v_{12}(x)|
&\leq& \frac{ 2^{n+1}}{\omega_n}\frac{x_n}{|x|^n}
\bigg(\int_{G_1-B(0,r)}\frac{|f(y')|^p}{|y'|^\gamma}
dy'\bigg)^{1/p}\bigg(\int_{G_1-B(0,r)}|y'|^{\frac{\gamma q}{p}}
dy'\bigg)^{1/q} \\
&\leq& Ax_n|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n}
\bigg(\int_{G_1-B(0,r)}\frac{|f(y')|^p}{|y'|^\gamma}
dy'\bigg)^{1/p}, \\
\end{eqnarray*}
which implies by artitrariness of $r$ that
$$
v_{12}(x)= o(x_n|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n}) \quad {\rm
as} \ |x|\rightarrow\infty . \eqno{(1.9)}
$$
If $\gamma >-(n-1)(p-1)$, then $\frac{\gamma q}{p}
+(n-1)>0$, so that we obtain by Holder's inequality
\begin{eqnarray*}
|v_2(x)|
&\leq& \frac{2x_n}{\omega_n}
\bigg(\int_{G_2}\frac{|f(y')|^p}{|x-(y',0)|^{pn}|y'|^\gamma}
dy'\bigg)^{1/p}\bigg(\int_{G_2}|y'|^{\frac{\gamma q}{p}}
dy'\bigg)^{1/q} \\
&\leq& Ax_n|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}}
\bigg(\int_{G_2}\frac{|f(y')|^p}{|x-(y',0)|^{pn}|y'|^\gamma}
dy'\bigg)^{1/p},\\
\end{eqnarray*}
since
\begin{eqnarray*}
\int_{G_2}\frac{|f(y')|^p}{|x-(y',0)|^{pn}|y'|^\gamma} dy'
&\leq& \int_\frac{x_n}{2}^{3|x|}
\frac{2^\gamma+1}{t^{pn}} dm_x^{(\varepsilon)}(t) \\
&\leq& \frac{\varepsilon^p}{
|x|^{pn}}(2^\gamma+1)\bigg(\frac{1}{3^\alpha}+
\frac{pn}{\alpha}\bigg)\frac{|x|^\alpha}{x_n^\alpha}, \\
\end{eqnarray*}
where $m_x^{(\varepsilon)}(t)=\int_{|y'-x| \leq t}
dm^{(\varepsilon)}(y')$.\\
Hence we have
$$
v_2(x)=
o(x_n^{1-\frac{\alpha}{p}}|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n+\frac{\alpha}{p}})
\quad {\rm as} \ |x|\rightarrow\infty.
$$
If $\gamma <(n-1)+p$, then $(\frac{\gamma}{p}-n)q
+(n-1)<0$, so that we obtain by Lemma 2 (2) and Holder's inequality
\begin{eqnarray*}
|v_3(x)|
&\leq& \int_{G_3}\frac{ 2x_n}{\omega_n}\frac{2^n}{|y'|^n}|f(y')| dy' \\
&\leq& \frac{ 2^{n+1}}{\omega_n}x_n
\bigg(\int_{G_3}\frac{|f(y')|^p}{|y'|^\gamma}
dy'\bigg)^{1/p}\bigg(\int_{G_3}|y'|^{(\frac{\gamma }{p}-n)q}
dy'\bigg)^{1/q} \\
&\leq& Ax_n|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n}
\bigg(\int_{G_3}\frac{|f(y')|^p}{|y'|^\gamma}
dy'\bigg)^{1/p},\\
\end{eqnarray*}
so that
$$
v_3(x)= o(x_n|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n}) \quad {\rm as}
\ |x|\rightarrow\infty . \eqno{(1.9)}
$$
Finally, by Lemma 2 (1), we obtain
$$
|v_4(x)|\leq \frac{ 2^{n+1}}{\omega_n}\frac{x_n}{|x|^n}
\int_{G_4}{|f(y')|}dy',
$$
so that we have by $\gamma >-(n-1)(p-1)$
$$
v_4(x)= o(x_n|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n}) \quad {\rm as}
\ |x|\rightarrow\infty . \eqno{(1.9)}
$$
Thus, by collecting (2.5), (2.6), (2.7), (2.8), (2.9), (2.10)and
(2.11), there exists a positive constant $A$ independent of
$\varepsilon$, such that if $ |x|\geq 2R_\varepsilon$ and $\ x
\notin E_1(\varepsilon)$, we have
$$
|v(x)|\leq A\varepsilon
x_n^{1-\frac{\alpha}{p}}|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n+\frac{\alpha}{p}}.
$$
Let $\mu_\varepsilon$ be a measure in ${\bf R}^n$ defined by
$ \mu_\varepsilon(E)= m^{(\varepsilon)}(E\cap{\bf R}^{n-1})$ for
every measurable set $E$ in ${\bf R}^n$.Take
$\varepsilon=\varepsilon_p=\frac{1}{2^{p+2}}, p=1,2,3,\cdots$, then
there exists a sequence $ \{R_p\}$: $1=R_0<R_1<R_2<\cdots$ such that
$$
\mu_{\varepsilon_p}({\bf R}^n)=\int_{|y'|\geq
R_p}dm(y')<\frac{\varepsilon_p^p}{5^{pn-\alpha}}.
$$
Take $\lambda=3\cdot5^{pn-\alpha}\cdot2^p\mu_{\varepsilon_p}({\bf
R}^n)$ in Lemma 1, then there exists $x_{j,p}$ and $ \rho_{j,p}$,
where $R_{p-1}\leq |x_{j,p}|<R_p$, such that
$$
\sum _{j=1}^{\infty}(\frac{\rho_{j,p}}{|x_{j,p}|})^{pn-\alpha} \leq
\frac{1}{2^{p}}.
$$
if $R_{p-1}\leq |x|<R_p$ and $x\notin G_p=\cup_{j=1}^\infty
B(x_{j,p},\rho_{j,p})$, we have
$$
|v(x)|\leq
A\varepsilon_px_n^{1-\frac{\alpha}{p}}|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n+\frac{\alpha}{p}},
$$
Thereby
$$
\sum _{p=1}^{\infty}
\sum_{j=1}^{\infty}(\frac{\rho_{j,p}}{|x_{j,p}|})^{pn-\alpha} \leq
\sum _{p=1}^{\infty}\frac{1}{2^{p}}=1<\infty.
$$
Set $ G=\cup_{p=1}^\infty G_p$, thus Theorem 1 holds.
\emph{Proof of Theorem 2}
We prove only the case $p>1$; the remaining case $p=1$ can be proved similarly.
Suppose
\begin{eqnarray*}
&F_1& =\{y\in H: 1<|y|\leq \frac{|x|}{2}\},\\
&F_2& =\{y\in H: \frac{|x|}{2}<|y| \leq 2|x|\}, \\
&F_3& =\{y\in H: |y|>2|x|\}, \\
&F_4& =\{y\in H: |y|\leq 1\}. \\
\end{eqnarray*}
Define the measure $dn(y)$ by
$$
dn(y)=\frac{y_n^p}{(1+|y'|)^{\gamma}} d\mu(y)
$$
For any $\varepsilon >0$, there exists $R_\varepsilon >2$, such that
$$
\int_{|y|\geq
R_\varepsilon}dn(y)<\frac{\varepsilon^p}{5^{pn-\alpha}}.
$$
For every Lebesgue measurable set $E \subset {\bf R}^{n}$, the
measure $n^{(\varepsilon)}$ defined by $n^{(\varepsilon)}(E)
=n(E\cap\{y\in H:|y|\geq R_\varepsilon\}) $ satisfies
$n^{(\varepsilon)}(H)\leq\frac{\varepsilon^p}{5^{pn-\alpha}}$, write
\begin{eqnarray*}
&h_1(x)& = \int_{F_1} G(x,y)d\mu(y),\\
&h_2(x)&=\int_{F_2} G(x,y)d\mu(y),\\
&h_3(x)&=\int_{F_3} G(x,y)d\mu(y), \\
&h_4(x)&=\int_{F_4} G(x,y)d\mu(y) \\
\end{eqnarray*}
then
$$
h(x) =h_1(x)+h_2(x)+h_3(x)+h_4(x). \eqno{(2.10)}
$$
Let $ E_2(\lambda)=\{x\in{\bf R}^{n}:|x|\geq2,\exists
t>0,n^{(\varepsilon)}(B(x,t)\cap H
)>\lambda^p(\frac{t}{|x|})^{pn-\alpha}\}, $ therefore, if $ |x|\geq
2R_\varepsilon$ and $x\notin E_2(\lambda)
$, then we have
$$
\forall t>0, \ n^{(\varepsilon)}(B(x,t)\cap H
)\leq\lambda^p(\frac{t}{|x|})^{pn-\alpha}.
$$
First, note that
$$
|G(x,y)|=|E(x-y)-E(x-y^{\ast})|\leq \frac{2x_ny_n}{\omega_n|x-y|^n}.
\eqno{(2.11)}
$$
If $\gamma >-(n-1)(p-1)$, then $\frac{\gamma q}{p}
+(n-1)>0$.
For $r >1$, we have
$$
h_1(x)=\int_{F_1\cap B(0,r) } -G(x,y) d\mu(y) +\int_{F_1-B(0,r) }
-G(x,y) d\mu(y)=h_{11}(x)+h_{12}(x)
$$
If $|x|>2r$, then we obtain by Lemma 2 (1), (2.11) and Holder's
inequality
\begin{eqnarray*}
|h_{11}(x)|
&\leq& \int_{B(0,r)-B(0,1)}\frac{2x_ny_n}{\omega_n|x-y|^n} d\mu(y) \\
&\leq& \int_{B(0,r)-B(0,1)}\frac{2x_ny_n}{\omega_n}\frac{2^n}{|x|^n} d\mu(y) \\
&\leq& \frac{ 2^{n+1}}{\omega_n}\frac{x_n}{|x|^n}
\bigg(\int_{B(0,r)-B(0,1)}\frac{y_n^p}{|y|^\gamma}
d\mu(y)\bigg)^{1/p}\bigg(\int_{B(0,r)-B(0,1)}|y|^{\frac{\gamma
q}{p}}
d\mu(y)\bigg)^{1/q}, \\
\end{eqnarray*}
since
$$
\int_{B(0,r)-B(0,1)}|y|^{\frac{\gamma q}{p}} d\mu(y)\leq
2^{n-1}r^{\frac{\gamma
q}{p}+n-1}\int_{H}\frac{1}{(1+|y|)^{n-1}} d\mu(y),
$$
\begin{eqnarray*}
\int_{B(0,r)-B(0,1)}|y|^{\frac{\gamma q}{p}} d\mu(y)
&=& \int_{B(0,r)-B(0,1)}|y|^{\frac{\gamma q}{p}+n-1}\frac{1}{|y|^{n-1}} d\mu(y) \\
&\leq& 2^{n-1}\int_{H}\frac{1}{(1+|y|)^{n-1}} d\mu(y)r^{\frac{\gamma
q}{p}+n-1} ,
\end{eqnarray*}
so that
$$
h_{11}(x)= o(x_n|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n}) \quad {\rm
as} \ |x|\rightarrow\infty . \eqno{(1.9)}
$$
Moreover, we have similarly
\begin{eqnarray*}
|h_{12}(x)|
&\leq& \frac{ 2^{n+1}}{\omega_n}\frac{x_n}{|x|^n}
\bigg(\int_{F_1-B(0,r)}\frac{y_n^p}{|y|^\gamma}
d\mu(y)\bigg)^{1/p}\bigg(\int_{F_1-B(0,r)}|y|^{\frac{\gamma q}{p}}
d\mu(y)\bigg)^{1/q} \\
&\leq& Ax_n|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n}
\bigg(\int_{F_1-B(0,r)}\frac{y_n^p}{|y|^\gamma} d\mu(y)\bigg)^{1/p},\\
\end{eqnarray*}
which implies by artitrariness of $r$ that
$$
h_{12}(x)= o(x_n|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n}) \quad {\rm
as} \ |x|\rightarrow\infty . \eqno{(1.9)}
$$
If $\gamma >-(n-1)(p-1)$, then $\frac{\gamma q}{p}
+(n-1)>0$, so that we obtain by Holder's inequality
\begin{eqnarray*}
|h_2(x)|
&\leq& \bigg(\int_{F_2}\frac{|G(x,y)|^p}{|y|^\gamma}
d\mu(y)\bigg)^{1/p}\bigg(\int_{F_2}|y|^{\frac{\gamma q}{p}}
d\mu(y)\bigg)^{1/q} \\
&\leq& \bigg(\int_{F_2}\frac{|G(x,y)|^p}{y_n^p}(2^\gamma +1)
dn(y)\bigg)^{1/p}\bigg(\int_{F_2}|y|^{\frac{\gamma q}{p}}
d\mu(y)\bigg)^{1/q}\\
&\leq& A|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}}\bigg(\int_{F_2}\frac{|G(x,y)|^p}{y_n^p}dn(y)\bigg)^{1/p},\\
\end{eqnarray*}
since
\begin{eqnarray*}
\int_{F_2}\frac{|G(x,y)|^p}{y_n^p} dn(y)
&\leq& \int_{|y-x|\leq 3|x|}\frac{|G(x,y)|^p}{y_n^p} dn^{(\varepsilon)}(y) \\
&=& \int_{|y-x|\leq \frac{x_n}{2}}\frac{|G(x,y)|^p}{y_n^p}
dn^{(\varepsilon)}(y)+
\int_{\frac{x_n}{2}<|y-x|\leq 3|x|}\frac{|G(x,y)|^p}{y_n^p} dn^{(\varepsilon)}(y)\\
&=& h_{21}(x)+h_{22}(x),
\end{eqnarray*}
so that
\begin{eqnarray*}
h_{21}(x)
&\leq& \int_{|y-x|\leq
\frac{x_n}{2}}\bigg(\frac{2}{(n-2)\omega_nx_n|x-y|^{(n-2)}}\bigg)^p
dn^{(\varepsilon)}(y) \\
&=& \bigg(\frac{2}{(n-2)\omega_nx_n}\bigg)^p\int_0^{\frac{x_n}{2}}
\frac{1}{t^{p(n-2)}} dn_x^{(\varepsilon)}(t) \\
&\leq&
\bigg(\frac{2}{(n-2)\omega_n}\bigg)^p\frac{np-\alpha}{(2p-\alpha)2^{2p-\alpha}}
\varepsilon^p\frac{x_n^{p-\alpha}}{|x|^{np-\alpha}}.\\
\end{eqnarray*}
Moreover, we have by (2.11)
\begin{eqnarray*}
h_{22}(x)
&\leq& \int_{\frac{x_n}{2}<|y-x|\leq 3|x|
}\bigg(\frac{2x_n}{(n-2)\omega_n|x-y|^{n}}\bigg)^p
dn^{(\varepsilon)}(y) \\
&=& \bigg(\frac{2x_n}{\omega_n}\bigg)^p\int_{\frac{x_n}{2}}^{3|x|}
\frac{1}{t^{pn}} dn_x^{(\varepsilon)}(t) \\
&\leq&
\bigg(\frac{2}{\omega_n}\bigg)^p(\frac{1}{3^\alpha}+\frac{np2^\alpha}{\alpha})
\varepsilon^p\frac{x_n^{p-\alpha}}{|x|^{np-\alpha}},\\
\end{eqnarray*}
where $n_x^{(\varepsilon)}(t)=\int_{|y-x| \leq t}
dn^{(\varepsilon)}(y)$.\\
Hence we have
$$
h_2(x)=
o(x_n^{1-\frac{\alpha}{p}}|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n+\frac{\alpha}{p}})
\quad {\rm as} \ |x|\rightarrow\infty.
$$
If $\gamma <(n-1)+p$, then $(\frac{\gamma}{p}-n)q
+(n-1)<0$, so that we obtain by Lemma 2 (2), (2.11) and Holder's inequality
\begin{eqnarray*}
|h_3(x)|
&\leq& \int_{F_3}\frac{2x_ny_n}{\omega_n|x-y|^n} d\mu(y) \\
&\leq& \int_{F_3}\frac{ 2x_ny_n}{\omega_n}\frac{2^n}{|y|^n} d\mu(y) \\
&\leq& \frac{ 2^{n+1}}{\omega_n}x_n
\bigg(\int_{F_3}\frac{y_n^p}{|y|^\gamma}
d\mu(y)\bigg)^{1/p}\bigg(\int_{F_3}|y|^{(\frac{\gamma }{p}-n)q}
d\mu(y)\bigg)^{1/q} \\
&\leq& Ax_n|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n}
\bigg(\int_{F_3}\frac{y_n^p}{|y|^\gamma} d\mu(y)\bigg)^{1/p},\\
\end{eqnarray*}
so that
$$
h_3(x)= o(x_n|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n}) \quad {\rm as}
\ |x|\rightarrow\infty . \eqno{(1.9)}
$$
Finally, by Lemma 2 (1) and (2.11), we obtain
$$
|h_4(x)|\leq \int_{F_4}\frac{2x_ny_n}{\omega_n|x-y|^n} d\mu(y) \leq
\frac{ 2^{n+1}}{\omega_n}\frac{x_n}{|x|^n} \int_{F_4}y_n d\mu(y),
$$
so that we have by $\gamma >-(n-1)(p-1)$
$$
h_4(x)= o(x_n|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n}) \quad {\rm as}
\ |x|\rightarrow\infty . \eqno{(1.9)}
$$
Thus, by collecting (2.12), (2.13), (2.15), (2.16),
(2.17), (2.18), (2.19) and (2.20), there exists a positive constant
$A$ independent of $\varepsilon$, such that if $ |x|\geq
2R_\varepsilon$ and $\ x \notin E_2(\varepsilon)$, we have
$$
|h(x)|\leq A\varepsilon x_n^{1-\frac{\alpha}{p}}|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n+\frac{\alpha}{p}}.
$$
Similarly, if $x\notin G$, we have
$$
h(x)=
o(x_n^{1-\frac{\alpha}{p}}|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n+\frac{\alpha}{p}})\quad
{\rm as} \ |x|\rightarrow\infty. \eqno{(2.21)}
$$
by (1.11) and (2.21), we obtain
$$
u(x)=v(x)+h(x)=
o(x_n^{1-\frac{\alpha}{p}}|x|^{\frac{\gamma}{p}+\frac{n-1}{q}-n+\frac{\alpha}{p}})\quad
{\rm as} \ |x|\rightarrow\infty
$$
hold in $H-G$, thus we complete the proof of Theorem 2.
\begin{center}
|
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| 4,657
|
"Finding a home is a huge milestone in anyone's life. Joe and Deb were amazing to work with from start to finish again on another property. They are like family to us. They made the process so easy and personable. As always they were very responsive and quick to provide solutions to any problems that would arise. We had to move quickly on this property and Joe and Deb easily showed us the house and wrote an offer within a week. The process was fun and a great learning experience because of these two. I would recommend them to anyone looking to sell or buy property in Northern Virginia. Thanks again Joe and Deb."
We can affirm that through multiple transactions with Joe and Deb they have consistently been the consummate and trustworthy professionals, and our loyal friends. It is our privilege to give them our highest recommendation!
|
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"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
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| 4,856
|
{"url":"http:\/\/www.solutioninn.com\/the-sales-department-of-maximo-inc-has-forecast-sales-for","text":"Question\n\nThe Sales Department of Maximo Inc. has forecast sales for May 2013 to be 40,000 units. Additional information follows:\nFinished goods inventory, May 1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2,000 units\nFinished goods inventory, May 31 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6,000 units\nMaterials used in production:\n\u0001\n\nDirect labor hours required in production:\n\u0001\n\nPrepare the following:\na. A production budget for May.\nb. A direct materials budget for May.\nc. A direct labor budget forMay.\n\nSales3\nViews304","date":"2016-10-21 23:59:19","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": false, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 0, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.9057521820068359, \"perplexity\": 370.40989853125643}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": false, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2016-44\/segments\/1476988718311.12\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20161020183838-00214-ip-10-171-6-4.ec2.internal.warc.gz\"}"}
| null | null |
Myanmar, Bangladesh sign Rohingya return deal
More than 620,000 people have poured into Bangladesh since August [Anadolu]
By Al Jazeera
Bangladesh and Myanmar have signed a deal for the return of hundreds of thousands of Rohingya refugees, who have taken shelter in the border town of Cox's Bazar after a brutal crackdown by the military.
Myanmar's foreign ministry confirmed the signing of the agreement on Thursday, without releasing further details.
"I didn't find any clear statement how these refugees will be repatriated. I'm not sure whether they will be allowed to return to their original village," Rohingya activist Nay San Lwin told Al Jazeera.
"It looks like they will be placed in the temporary camps, and later the refugees will be locked up in the camps for a long time like the Rohingya in Sittwe for more than five years now.
"Myanmar minister for resettlement and welfare said they will repatriate maximum 300 refugees a day. So it can take up to two decades to repatriate all those refugees."
Al Jazeera's Scott Heidler, reporting from Yangon, said the deal was the result of international pressure which has been mounting steadily on Myanmar.
'Concentration camps'
"For Myanmar, it's very important because it is showing some progress on this Rohingya crisis," Heidler said.
San Lwin said refugees should not return if their citizenship and basic rights are not guaranteed.
"Bangladesh should not send back any Rohingya refugee to Myanmar unless citizenship and basic rights are guaranteed. The people who fled to Bangladesh lived in the open air prison for almost three decades, now it looks like they will be sent back to concentration camps."
The agreement comes after Myanmar's de facto leader Aung San Suu Kyi met Bangladesh's foreign minister to resolve one of the biggest refugee crisis of modern times.
More than 620,000 people have poured into Bangladesh since August, running from a Myanmar military crackdown that the US said this week clearly constitutes "ethnic cleansing against the Rohingya".
The talks between Aung San Suu Kyi and her Bangladeshi counterpart come in advance of a highly anticipated visit to both nations by Pope Francis, who has been outspoken about his sympathy for the plight of the Rohingya.
Buddhist-majority Myanmar, which denies committing atrocities against the Muslim minority, has agreed to work with Bangladesh to repatriate some of the Rohingya piling into desperately overstretched refugee camps.
'Systematically oppressed'
But the neighbours have struggled to settle on the details, including how many Rohingya will be allowed back in violence-scorched Rakhine, where hundreds of villages have been burned.
Last week Myanmar's military chief Min Aung Hlaing said it was "impossible to accept the number of persons proposed by Bangladesh".
|
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| 4,845
|
Rabbi David Wolpe
Silver Academy student class of '72
Rabbi David Wolpe lived in Harrisburg and attended our school until 5th grade when his family moved to Philadelphia. You may remember his parents, Rabbi Gerald and Elaine Wolpe z"l from the days when Rabbi Gerald Wolpe was the Rabbi at Beth El.
A Message from Rabbi David Wolpe
I treasure my years at Silver and learned a great deal there. I am delighted to offer a thought on this upcoming season, whose roots are in the school we share. Shana Tovah!
Rosh HaShanah is the only holiday without a limit. It literally celebrates everything. Other holidays celebrate events in history, or the relationship between God and Israel. But Rosh HaShanah celebrates the creation of the world; in other words, it is a song of gratitude for all that exists. We blow the shofar on Rosh HaShanah because if we sleepwalk through life we are violating the essence of the holiday - to see and feel joy in the created world and the God who made it. Indifference is the enemy, ennui the sin, embrace the answer.
The holiday that follows, Yom Kippur, is a symbolic enactment of death. We do not eat or bathe, and we dress in shrouds. Those who have not been grateful on Rosh HaShanah are asked to imagine what it would be like to be without the world. What if there were no love, no words or music or mountains or sky? Perhaps only after Yom Kippur can we fully appreciate the message of Rosh HaShanah. One day all this will be gone for you. Rejoice now; celebrate now; hold the world and those you love close.
Shana Tovah Umetukah - a happy and sweet New Year
An Article About Rabbi David Wolpe
This article was posted on the website of Sinai Temple in California, where he lives and serves as the Max Webb Senior Rabbi.
"Named the most influential Rabbi in America by Newsweek Magazine and one of the 50 most influential Jews in the world by the Jerusalem Post, David Wolpe is the Rabbi of Sinai Temple in Los Angeles, California. He previously taught at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America in New York, the American Jewish University in Los Angeles, Hunter College, and UCLA. Rabbi Wolpe, a weekly columnist for Time.com, has been published and profiled in the New York Times, the LA Times, the Washington Post's On Faith website, The Huffington Post, and the New York Jewish Week. He has been on television numerous times, including the Today Show, Face the Nation, ABC this Morning, and CBS This Morning. In addition Rabbi Wolpe has been featured in series on PBS, A&E, the History channel, and the Discovery channel. Rabbi Wolpe is the author of eight books, including the national bestseller Making Loss Matter: Creating Meaning in Difficult Times. Rabbi Wolpe's new book is titled, David, the Divided Heart. It was a finalist for the National Jewish Book Awards, and has been optioned for a movie by Warner Bros."
For more information on Rabbi David Wolpe please click on the links below:
www.sinaitemple.org
http://time.com/author/rabbi-david-wolpe/
https://www.facebook.com/RabbiWolpe/
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaCommonCrawl"
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| 439
|
\section{Introduction}
One of the fundamental problems of the quantum electrodynamics is Positronium (Ps) atom \cite{c} which is bound state of an electron and an anti-electron. When the system is in the ground state ($n=1$), the Ps atom can be formed by spin symmetric, $1^{3}S_{1}$, or spin antisymmetric, $1^{1}S_{0}$, quantum states. The both quantum state of the Ps atom known as ortho-positronium (o-Ps, $1^{3}S_{1}$) and para-positronium (p-Ps, $1^{1}S_{0}$) decay via self-annihilation process by emitting high energetic gamma photons, eventually. Because of the conservation of the overall charge conjugation parity, ($-(-1)^{l+s}$), in electromagnetically interacting systems, the p-Ps system decays into two gamma photon propagating into opposite direction since the charge conjugation parity of a photon is odd ($-1$). Also, due to the binding energy (negative) between the oppositely charged particles, the total energy transmitting by the two annihilation photon (annihilation energy) must be lower than the total rest mass energy of the system ($2m_{e}c^{2}$).
\qquad Due to the Coulomb interaction between the two oppositely charged elementary particles, the both quantum state of Ps system are collapsed and annihilation condition, which means the annihilation event occurs only when the wave functions of the particles are overlapped \cite{d,e} at origin of the center of mass frame, is satisfied. However, the observed lifetimes of the both state differ from each other because of the conservation of the total angular momentum in their collapsing processes, spin-spin interaction force between the particles, phase space and additional alpha supression factor \cite{g,b1}. The observed total lifetimes ($\tau_{lab}$) of p-Ps and o-Ps systems are approximately $125\times10^{-12}$ and $142\times10^{-9}$ seconds \cite{b1,Ramadhan}, respectively, without any external effect \cite{e,Sa}, such as substrate effect or screening energy causing from the electronic environment of the annihilation position. Since the both system are formed by oppositely charged two fermion, the external effects make their collapsing processes delay and their binding energies changes and thus the effects increase their total annihilation times. It is useful to emphasize that, after positron emitted by a radioactive source, it losses their kinetic energy in some physical processes and binds the nearest an electron in the sample. Therefore, the annihilation event can be investigated in event-by-event basis. It can be seen that the average annihilation lifetime spectroscopy of the positrons in living biological systems shows differences in picosecond order between normal and cancerous cells, because of the physical and chemical processes are carrying out inside the medium of cells or tissues \cite{axpe,cancerous} and some morphological alterations in the free voids between the atoms of the sample matter in nanometer scale. Therefore, by measuring the mean annihilation lifetime and the total annihilation energy transmitting by the high energetic photons originating from the both annihilation process or by measuring the Doppler broadenings \cite{Asoka} of the resulting rays some physical informations about the affected cell membranes and tissues in living biological systems or the interested materials can be dedected since the annihilation photons hold information about the electronic environment around the annihilation point and morphology of the interested sample, via positron emission tomography (PET) and multi-purpose J-PET whole body scanners \cite{M,N,O} based on multi-photon registration. Therefore, the separation of the proper decay time values of the quantum states of Ps from the observed mean life time values is necessary to clarify the findings as well as the both total annihilation energy and binding energy changing with respect to the electronic properties of the medium. Therefore, firstly there must exist a spectrum including all fundamental properties of the p-Ps system as we mentioned before.
Hence, the fundamental aim of this research is to perform an exact solution including simultaneously the total annihilation energy, binding energy and proper decay time of a p-Ps system, by excluding all external effects on the system. To achieve this, for the quantum state of p-Ps ($s=0,l=0$), the fully covariant relativistic two-body equation \cite{j,abdullah} is written in the $(1+1)$ dimensional background, and then relative and center of mass variables are separated by excepting the center of mass is rest. By taking $m_{1}=m_{2}$, the obtained second order wave equation is solved for the p-Ps system where the both particle hold together by a Coulomb interaction. Then, by modifying the obtained spectra to an electron-antielectron system, as we expected, the exact total annihilation energy, binding energy and proper decay time of the p-Ps is found, simultaneously. Furthermore, it can seen that our results can be adopted to any medium.
\section{Covariant two-body equation in (1+1) dimensions}
In $(1+1)$ dimensional space-times, the relativistic two-body equation can be written for the p-Ps system as \cite{abdullah,j};
\begin{eqnarray}
[(\sigma _{\mu }^{(1)}i\hbar (\partial_{\mu }^{(1) }+\frac{ie_{1}}{\hbar c}A_{\mu }^{(2) })
-m_{1}cI) \otimes \sigma _{0}^{(2) }\nonumber \\+\sigma _{0}^{(1)}\otimes ( \sigma _{\mu }^{(2)}i\hbar (
\partial _{\mu }^{(2)}+\frac{ie_{2}}{\hbar c}A_{\mu }^{(1)})-m_{2}cI)] \Psi( \mathbf{x}_{1},\mathbf{x}_{2}) =0,\nonumber\\
\partial _{\mu }=\left( \frac{\partial _{t}}{c},\partial _{x}\right),\quad \left(\mu=0,1.\right), \label{Eq1}
\end{eqnarray}
where, bi-spinor function is
\begin{eqnarray}
\Psi \left(\mathbf{x}_{1},\mathbf{x}_{2}\right) =\psi \left( \mathbf{x}_{1}\right) \otimes \psi \left( \mathbf{x}_{2}\right),\nonumber \\
\psi \left( \mathbf{x}_{1}\right)=\ \left(\begin{array}{c}\kappa\left( \mathbf{x}_{1}\right)\\ \chi\left( \mathbf{x}_{1}\right)\\ \end{array}\right), \psi \left( \mathbf{x}_{2}\right)=\ \left(\begin{array}{c}\kappa\left( \mathbf{x}_{2}\right)\\ \chi\left( \mathbf{x}_{2}\right)\\ \end{array}\right). \label{Eq00}
\end{eqnarray}
Besides the unit matrice (I), general position vectors $x_{1}$ and $x_{2}$, space-dependent Dirac matrices $\sigma _{\mu }^{\left( 1,2\right) }\left(x_{1},x_{2}\right)$, Kronocker productions are represented by $\otimes$ symbols in Eq. (\ref{Eq1}) where $e_{1}, e_{2}, m_{1}, m_{2}$ are charges and masses of the first and second particles, respectively.
Since we interest in only relative motion between the particles, to separate the center of mass and relative variables, the well known expressions are written in the following way;
\begin{eqnarray}
\mathbf{X}_{1}=\frac{m_{2}}{M}\left( \mathbf{r+}\frac{M}{m_{2}}\mathbf{R}
\right),\nonumber\\
\mathbf{X}_{2}=\frac{m_{1}}{M}\left(- \mathbf{r+}\frac{M}{m_{1}}\mathbf{R}
\right),\label{alg}
\end{eqnarray}
and their differential forms \cite{abdullah} are used.
\section{Coupled differential equation system}
For a Coulomb-type interaction, the components of electromagnetic vector potential, $A_{\mu}$, are written as;
\begin{eqnarray*}
\mathbf{A}_{0}=V\left\vert \mathbf{x}_{1}-\mathbf{x}_{2}\right\vert,\quad \mathbf{A}_{1}=0,
\end{eqnarray*}
and the space dependent matrices satisfying Dirac algebra can be chosen in terms of constant pauli spin matrices \cite{K} in the following way;
\begin{eqnarray}
\sigma _{0}=\sigma ^{z},\quad \sigma _{1}=i\sigma^{x}.\label{mat}
\end{eqnarray}
Thanks to separation of variables method, the components of the bi-spinor function written in Eq. (\ref{Eq00}) can be separated as,
\begin{eqnarray}
\xi _{y}\left( r,R,R_{0}\right):=\zeta _{y}\left(r\right)\Phi_{y}\left(R\right)e^{-iwR_{0}},\nonumber\\
\Phi_{y}\left( R\right):=e^{i\mathbf{k.R}},\ \ (y=1,2,3,4.),\label{SepS}
\end{eqnarray}
where $R_{0}$ and $R$ represent the proper time and spatial coordinate of the center of mass, respectively.
By using Eq. (\ref{SepS}), Eq. (\ref{mat}) and Eq. (\ref{alg}) in Eq. (\ref{Eq1}) an equation set is written as;
\begin{eqnarray*}
\lambda \left( r\right)\zeta _{a}\left( r\right)-B\zeta _{b}\left(
r\right)+ \left( 2\partial _{r}+\frac{\eta k}{M}\right)\zeta _{d}\left(
r\right) =0, \label{equation4}
\end{eqnarray*}
\begin{eqnarray*}
\lambda \left( r\right) \zeta _{b}\left( r\right) -B\zeta _{a}\left(
r\right) -k\zeta _{c}\left( r\right) =0, \label{equation5}
\end{eqnarray*}
\begin{eqnarray*}
\lambda \left( r\right) \zeta _{c}\left( r\right) -\triangle B \zeta
_{d}\left( r\right) +k\zeta _{b}\left( r\right) =0, \label{equation6}
\end{eqnarray*}
\begin{eqnarray}
\lambda \left( r\right) \zeta _{d}\left( r\right) -\triangle B \zeta
_{c}\left( r\right) - \left( 2\partial _{r}-\frac{\eta k}{M}\right) \zeta
_{a}\left( r\right) =0, \label{equation7}
\end{eqnarray}
where we use the following abbreviations:
\begin{eqnarray}
\zeta _{a}\left( r\right)=\zeta _{1}\left( r\right) +\zeta _{4}\left(
r\right) , \ \zeta _{b}\left( r\right) =\zeta _{1}\left( r\right) -\zeta
_{4}\left( r\right) ,\nonumber\\
\zeta _{c}\left( r\right)=\zeta _{2}\left( r\right) +\zeta _{3}\left(
r\right) , \ \zeta _{d}\left( r\right) =\zeta _{2}\left( r\right) -\zeta
_{3}\left( r\right) ,\nonumber\\
\lambda \left( r\right)=\left( \frac{w}{c}-V\left( r\right) \right), V\left( r\right)=\frac{\alpha}{r}, \triangle B =\frac{\eta c}{\hbar},\nonumber\\
B=\frac{Mc}{\hbar}, \ \eta =m_{1}-m_{2},\ \ M=m_{1}+m_{2}.
\end{eqnarray}
\section{The spectra of a para-positronium in S-state}
Under the rest center of mass condition ($k=0$) and by adopting the equation set in Eq. (\ref{equation7}) to an electron-positron pair, $m_{1}=m_{2}$, a second order wave equation can be obtained as;
\begin{eqnarray}
\partial _{r}^{2}\zeta _{a}\left( r\right) -\left( \frac{\partial
_{r}\lambda \left( r\right) }{\lambda \left( r\right) }\right) \partial
_{r}\zeta _{a}\left( r\right) +\left( \frac{\lambda \left( r\right)
^{2}-B^{2}}{4}\right) \zeta _{a}\left( r\right) =0, \label{second}
\end{eqnarray}
and the following definition can be used to clarify solution functions of Eq. (\ref{second}),
\begin{eqnarray}
\zeta _{a}\left( r\right) =e^{\left(-\frac{r}{2 c}\sqrt{B^{2}c^{2}-w^{2}}
\right) }r^{\frac{i\alpha}{2}}\xi \left( r\right).\label{s}
\end{eqnarray}
Then, by changing dimensionless independent variable, as $z=-\frac{w r}{c\alpha}$, the solution functions of Eq. (\ref{second}), are found in terms of Heun functions,
\begin{eqnarray}
\xi \left( z\right) =A_{1}H_{C}\left( \theta ,\varepsilon ,\upsilon
,\varsigma ,\varrho ,z\right) +A_{2}H_{C}\left( \theta ,-\varepsilon
,\upsilon ,\varsigma ,\varrho ,z\right) z^{-\varepsilon },\label{s1}
\end{eqnarray}
where $\theta, \varepsilon, \upsilon, \varsigma$ and $\varrho$ are as follows;
\begin{eqnarray}
\theta &=&\frac{\alpha}{w}\sqrt{B^{2}c^{2}-w^{2}},\quad\varepsilon=-i\alpha,\nonumber\\
\upsilon&=&-2,\quad\varsigma =-\frac{\alpha^{2}}{2},\quad\varrho=1+\frac{\alpha^{2}}{2}.\label{s2}
\end{eqnarray}
With the help of following expression, which is the polynomial condition of the C-type Heun functions,
\begin{eqnarray}
\varsigma +\left( n+1+\frac{\left( \varepsilon +\upsilon \right) }{2}
\right) \theta =0,\label{s3}
\end{eqnarray}
the frequency spectra can be obtained as in the following;
\begin{eqnarray}
w_{n}=\frac{2m_{e}c^{2}}{\hbar}\sqrt{\frac{n^{4}+\frac{3\alpha^{2}n^{2}}{
4}-i\frac{\alpha^{3}n}{4}}{n^{4}+\alpha^{2}n^{2}}}.\label{fre}
\end{eqnarray}
The spectra including an imaginary part depends on the principal quantum number, ($n$), and well-known electromagnetic coupling constant ($\alpha$).
By using the power expansion method,
\begin{eqnarray}
w_{n}\approx \frac{2m_{e}c^{2}}{\hbar}\left\{ 1-\frac{\alpha ^{2}}{8n^{2}}-i\frac{\alpha ^{3}}{8n^{3}}\right\}, \label{spectrum}
\end{eqnarray}
the annihilation energy can be found as;
\begin{eqnarray}
\emph{E}_{ann}\approx \left(2m_{e}c^{2}-6,803\right) eV,\label{ann}
\end{eqnarray}
in which the $-6.803\quad eV$ is binding energy of the system in ground state ($-\frac{2m_{e}c^2\alpha^2}{8}\approx-6,803\quad eV$, n=1) and $2m_{e}c^{2}$ is the total rest mass energy of the system in vacuum.
Additionally, proper decay time of the system can be found, simultaneously, by using the expressions in Eq. (\ref{SepS}), which gives $\tau_{n}\approx\frac{1}{\left\vert imw_{n}\right\vert}$, as follows;
\begin{eqnarray}
\tau _{n}\approx \frac{4n^{3}\hbar}{m_{e}c^{2}\alpha ^{3}},\quad \alpha=\frac{e^{2}}{4\pi\epsilon_{0}\hbar c}.\label{lifetime}
\end{eqnarray}
For ground state, the proper decay time of system is found as; $\tau_{1}=0.0132\times10^{-12}\quad s$ in vacuum. This value is shorter than the observed lifetime values, even shorter than that of vacuum, since the obtained value corresponds only the proper lifetime of the system in ground state. However, the existence of any matter background, such as tissue or tumor, changes the binding energy, lifetime \cite{M,N} and total annihilation energy of the system due to the electronic properties and electron density of the sample matter. The electronic properties of the matter background can be represented by an effective dielectric constant, as $\epsilon_{m}$, and this term contains important physical properties of the environment of the annihilation position in the medium such as polarizability, cohesive energy density, temperature, permittivity or susceptibility \cite{Tao}.
\section{Conclusion}
The developed model in this paper gives exact annihilation energy, binding energy and proper decay time value, in S-state, of the p-Ps system, in vacuum. Since the obtained spectra showing fundamental properties of the p-Ps system is first spectrum in the literature, the yields can shed light to the related studies, such as positron annihilation spectroscopy for any sample material (or medium), medical monitoring of the living biological systems and gamma-ray laser studies based on the p-Ps annihilation process. The obtained proper decay time expression (Eq. (\ref{lifetime})), for vacuum case, gives the exact proper decay times for the system only in any S-state, therefore the obtained expressions can be based on to clarify the related results in the literature in event-by-event basis by taking into account well-known $\tau_{lab}$ correction \cite{S}. In any materials, after the system is formed, the external effects such as screening energy, substrate effect, an electromagnetic field or thermal fluctuations can change the whole spectrum of the Ps system. Since the screening energy or substrate effects in the medium impact on the electromagnetic coupling between the electron and positron pair as $\alpha\rightarrow\alpha_{m}, (\alpha_{m}<\alpha$), the proper decay time (Eq. (\ref{lifetime})), binding energy and total annihilation energy (Eq. (\ref{spectrum})) of the system are changed by the matter medium. These can be seen that the effects decrease the binding energy because the binding energy of the system is proportional to $\alpha_{m}^{2}$ term, but they increase the obtained proper decay time values as proportionally with the $\alpha_{m}^{-3}$ term. Hence, by sensitively measuring to the total annihilation energy transmitting by the two resulting photons via Doopler broadening spectroscopy \cite{dop} and the positron annihilation life time spectroscopy for any sample matter, the crucial physical properties, such as morphologic alteration and electronic environment of the annihilation position, in the sample can be understand. In this way, the obtained yields can contribute to studies about positron annihilation life time spectroscopy for any materials or living biological complexes and medical monitoring of human tissues or cell membranes via positron emission tomography or multi-purpose Jagiellonian positron emission tomography devices. Thanks to the important developments in such areas, in near future, information about the cells, tissues or tumors may be quitely detected via sensitive dedectors used in the medical monitoring devices \cite{O}. Finally, because of the total annihilation energy and decay time of the p-Ps system depend explicitly on the medium properties, our findings can be based on for gamma-ray laser studies \cite{laser}, since the formation time, annihilation time and total annihilation energy transmitting by the two annihilation gamma photons propagating as forward photon and backward photon in the time may be controlled by arranging the matter substrate sensitively.
\section*{References}
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaArXiv"
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| 3,146
|
window.reloadAll = function() {
window.localStorage.clear();
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var body = document.body;
if (!body || !body.style) {
setTimeout(function() {
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var msgs = [];
msgs.push("Error:");
msgs.push("\n错误信息:", errorMessage);
msgs.push("\n出错文件:", scriptURI);
msgs.push("\n出错位置:", lineNumber + '行,' + columnNumber + '列');
if (window.submitError) {
window.submitError(msgs.join(" ; "));
}
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var ignore = false;
window.ignoreErrors.some(function(keyWord) {
if (errorMessage.indexOf(keyWord) != -1) {
ignore = true;
return true;
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console.log(msgs.join(";\n"));
return;
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window.printLog(msgs)
};
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
}
| 5,552
|
It's a landing page and sales page designer with tons of templates. And not only does it come with page templates, however it has whole funnel templates. That's the cool part. There are actually funnel design templates that have been checked and proven to work – ClickFunnels makes it simple to simply plug and play.
The beginning price for Clickfunnels is $97 monthly and the Etison( Complete Suite) will set you back by $297 monthly.
I've used Clickfunnels for my customers prior to (and I still do) and I am in the best position to inform you whether or not Clickfunnels is ideal for you (or not).
While some people, especially those who are simply starting their businesses, might seem like ClickFunnels costs a lot, for anybody who is major about growing their organisation and benefiting from all ClickFunnels needs to use, the cost deserves it.
The factor the cost is worth it is because it has outstanding free training and it does more than competitor sites.
Clickfunnels has automobile responders (e-mails) features utilizing which you can do lead nurturing. All the good things about automation is rather possible with clickfunnels.
You have a method to do A/B screening for every single single page that's a part of your funnel. Like do A/B screening for your main landing page, do A/B screening for even for your thank you page.
Email Marketing (You'll still require standalone email service providers such as Drip, Mailchimp, ConvertKit, or Campaign Display). If you have a big list of subscribers (or multiple lists), your email marketing expenses will make up for a sizable chunk of your budget plan.
Any business that understands it needs an online presence, but has actually not achieved success in getting that existence to mean more customers or money. This software streamlines the procedure and assists produce a much better return on investment.
ClickFunnels is an extremely successful platform since it permits anybody with a business start-up concept to easily be able to develop landing pages within a sales funnel that have a strong performance history of attaining conversions.
What makes ClickFunnels specifically useful is that it is developed to help all entrepreneurs, solopreneurs, or wantrapreneurs create their own pages without needing any programming or website style understanding. ClickFunnels has done all the work beforehand and now people are able to point and click up until their page is exactly what they wanted.
ClickFunnels is a leading platform that offers enormous value to its members. From the easy to build funnels that are entirely automated to the ability to perform conversion tracking and split-testing to help enhance results, ClickFunnels uses a lot to its users.
One of the best features of ClickFunnels is that they use a 14-day complimentary trial for people to start the procedure of discovering the platform and implementing it into their company. For a brand-new organisation, the 14-day complimentary trial is a good time to overcome the complimentary training to learn as much as possible about what ClickFunnels needs to provide.
It's a landing page and sales page designer with tons of templates. And not only does it come with page templates, but it has entire funnel design templates. That's the cool part. There are literally funnel design templates that have actually been tested and shown to work – ClickFunnels makes it simple to simply plug and play.
The beginning price for Clickfunnels is $97 regular monthly and the Etison( Complete Suite) will set you back by $297 monthly.
I've used Clickfunnels for my customers prior to (and I still do) and I remain in the best position to inform you whether Clickfunnels is ideal for you (or not).
While some individuals, especially those who are simply starting their services, might feel like ClickFunnels costs a lot, for anyone who is serious about growing their service and taking advantage of all ClickFunnels needs to use, the expense is worth it.
The factor the cost deserves it is because it has outstanding totally free training and it does more than competitor sites.
Clickfunnels has automobile responders (e-mails) features using which you can do lead nurturing. All the good things about automation is rather possible with clickfunnels.
You have a way to do A/B testing for each single page that's a part of your funnel. Like do A/B screening for your main landing page, do A/B testing for even for your thank you page.
Certainly, you have all the metrics and analytics you need to examine your projects, funnel performance, conversions, and sales (on top of A/B testing results).
Email Marketing (You'll still require standalone email provider such as Drip, Mailchimp, ConvertKit, or Project Monitor). If you have a substantial list of customers (or multiple lists), your e-mail marketing costs will make up for a sizable chunk of your budget plan.
Other expenses for individuals, tools, or marketing that you might be spending on.
Any business that comprehends it needs an online presence, but has actually not achieved success in getting that presence to translate to more customers or loan. This software application simplifies the procedure and assists develop a far better return on investment.
ClickFunnels is an extremely successful platform due to the fact that it permits anyone with a service startup idea to quickly be able to construct landing pages within a sales funnel that have a strong performance history of accomplishing conversions.
Exactly what makes ClickFunnels particularly valuable is that it is designed to assist all entrepreneurs, solopreneurs, or wantrapreneurs develop their own pages without needing any shows or site style knowledge. ClickFunnels has done all of the work beforehand and now individuals have the ability to point and click until their page is exactly what they desired.
ClickFunnels is a leading platform that uses immense value to its members. From the easy to construct funnels that are totally automated to the capability to carry out conversion tracking and split-testing to help improve results, ClickFunnels provides a lot to its users.
Among the best functions of ClickFunnels is that they offer a 14-day complimentary trial for individuals to begin the process of learning more about the platform and implementing it into their company. For a brand-new company, the 14-day free trial is a fun time to work through the free training to discover as much as possible about exactly what ClickFunnels needs to offer.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
}
| 4,094
|
Michael Scott Neiberg (* 2. August 1969) ist ein US-amerikanischer Militärhistoriker.
Leben
Neiberg studierte Geschichte an der University of Michigan (B.A. 1991) in Ann Arbor, Michigan und an der Carnegie Mellon University (M.A. 1992 und Ph.D. 1996) in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Außerdem erwarb er ein Diploma (2000) in Spanien.
Er war 1998/99 Assistant Professor, von 2000 bis 2003 Associate Professor und von 2003 bis 2005 Professor of History an der United States Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, Colorado. 2005 wechselte er als Professor und Co-Direktor an das Center for the Study of War and Society der University of Southern Mississippi in Hattiesburg, Mississippi.
2008 und 2010 hielt er die Perspectives in Military History Lecture Series und 2010/11 war er Inhaber des Harold Keith Johnson Chair of Military History am United States Army War College in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Seit 2011 ist er Professor of History am Department of National Security and Strategy. 2013 übernahm er den dortigen Stimson Chair of History and Security Studies.
Auszeichnungen
Neiberg wurde mit mehreren Stipendien und Preisen ausgezeichnet u. a.:
2006: Choice Outstanding Academic Title Award (für Fighting the Great War: A Global History)
2008: Norman B. Tomlinson, Jr. Book Prize, Western Front Association (heute: World War One Historical Association) (für The Second Battle of the Marne)
2012: Madigan Writing Award, United States Army War College (für The Blood of Free Men: The Liberation of Paris, 1944)
Schriften (Auswahl)
mit Steven Schlossman: The Unwelcome Decline of Molly Marine: Historical Perspectives on Women in the American Military (1994)
Making Citizen-Soldiers: ROTC and the Ideology of American Military Service (2000)
Warfare in World History (2001)
Foch: Supreme Allied Commander in the Great War (2003)
Warfare and Society in Europe, 1898 to the Present (2004)
Fighting the Great War: A Global History (2005)
(ed.): International Library of Military History: World War I (2005)
Soldiers' Lives Through History, Bd. 4: The Nineteenth Century (2006)
(ed.): International Library of Political History: Fascism (2006)
(ed.): The Great War Reader (2006)
The Western Front (2007)
mit David Jordan: The Eastern Front, 1914–1920 (2008)
The Second Battle of the Marne (2008)
mit Jennifer Keene: Finding Common Ground: New Directions in First World War Studies (2011)
(ed.): Arms and the Man: A Festschrift in Honor of Dennis Showalter (2011)
Dance of the Furies: Europe and the Outbreak of War in 1914 (2011)
The Blood of Free Men: The Liberation of Paris, 1944 (2012)
The Military Atlas of World War I (2014)
Potsdam: The End of World War II and the Remaking of Europe (2015)
Weblinks
Michael S. Neiberg an der University of Southern Mississippi
Webseite von Michael S. Neiberg
Militärhistoriker
Hochschullehrer (Carlisle, Pennsylvania)
Hochschullehrer (Hattiesburg)
Hochschullehrer (Colorado Springs)
US-Amerikaner
Geboren 1969
Mann
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaWikipedia"
}
| 349
|
Our dedicated team can provide advice on minimising tax liability for all personal taxes.
With careful and timely planning we will make sure you are able to make the most of the options available.
We provide a discreet estate planning service to give you peace of mind.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
}
| 2,614
|
Started from Yokohama , Motomachi Chukagai to Hakone Lake Ashinoko. Started at 10:00 , reached destination at 13:00. Hakone (箱根) is part of the Fuji-Hakone-Izu National Park, around 80 Km from Kawasaki. Famous for hot springs, natural beauty and the view of nearby Mt. Fuji but unfortunately it was rainy day , so couldn't see Mt Fuji.
2 Bikes , Harley and R1 , different type but one destination. 3 Hr long drive for just 80Km , traffic jam , speed from 10 Km to 100 Km ranging from place to place , passing beach , sea , mountains , zig zag.
Lake Ashi is a placid lake surrounded by mountains and dense forest. The view from the lake on the Hakone Sightseeing Cruise gives a completely different perspective than from land. Walking paths along the lake, Hakone-jinja Shrine, Onshi-Hakone Park and other points of interest around the lake await visitors.
Hakone Soba is famous but didnt eat as not sure is it really that famous.
The Hakone Sightseeing Cruise ships, large, gaudily decorated replicas of pirate ships, are a famous sight on Lake Ashi and a Hakone trademark. Though we didnt ride as my partner dont want to ride ...ooh no , missed the opportunity ..
Final rest while going back home near Yokohama. Resting , after 6 hrs of drive , heated up hot engine , fingers tired of using that much of clutch , ....need to go bed soon.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
}
| 1,488
|
var path = require('path');
var autoprefixer = require('autoprefixer');
var webpack = require('webpack');
var HtmlWebpackPlugin = require('html-webpack-plugin');
var ExtractTextPlugin = require('extract-text-webpack-plugin');
// TODO: hide this behind a flag and eliminate dead code on eject.
// This shouldn't be exposed to the user.
var isInNodeModules = 'node_modules' ===
path.basename(path.resolve(path.join(__dirname, '..', '..')));
var relativePath = isInNodeModules ? '../../..' : '..';
if (process.argv[2] === '--debug-template') {
relativePath = '../template';
}
var srcPath = path.resolve(__dirname, relativePath, 'src');
var nodeModulesPath = path.join(__dirname, '..', 'node_modules');
var indexHtmlPath = path.resolve(__dirname, relativePath, 'index.html');
var faviconPath = path.resolve(__dirname, relativePath, 'favicon.ico');
var buildPath = path.join(__dirname, isInNodeModules ? '../../..' : '..', 'build');
module.exports = {
bail: true,
devtool: 'source-map',
entry: path.join(srcPath, 'index'),
output: {
path: buildPath,
filename: '[name].[chunkhash].js',
chunkFilename: '[name].[chunkhash].chunk.js',
// TODO: this wouldn't work for e.g. GH Pages.
// Good news: we can infer it from package.json :-)
publicPath: '/'
},
resolve: {
extensions: ['', '.js'],
},
resolveLoader: {
root: nodeModulesPath,
moduleTemplates: ['*-loader']
},
module: {
preLoaders: [
{
test: /\.js$/,
loader: 'eslint',
include: srcPath
}
],
loaders: [
{
test: /\.js$/,
include: srcPath,
loader: 'babel',
query: require('./babel.prod')
},
{
test: /\.css$/,
include: srcPath,
// Disable autoprefixer in css-loader itself:
// https://github.com/webpack/css-loader/issues/281
// We already have it thanks to postcss.
loader: ExtractTextPlugin.extract('style', 'css?-autoprefixer!postcss')
},
{
test: /\.scss$/,
loaders: ['style', 'css', 'sass']
},
{
test: /\.json$/,
loader: 'json'
},
{
test: /\.(jpg|png|gif|eot|svg|ttf|woff|woff2)$/,
loader: 'file',
},
{
test: /\.(mp4|webm)$/,
loader: 'url?limit=10000'
}
]
},
eslint: {
// TODO: consider separate config for production,
// e.g. to enable no-console and no-debugger only in prod.
configFile: path.join(__dirname, 'eslint.js'),
useEslintrc: false
},
postcss: function() {
return [autoprefixer];
},
plugins: [
new HtmlWebpackPlugin({
inject: true,
template: indexHtmlPath,
favicon: faviconPath,
minify: {
removeComments: true,
collapseWhitespace: true,
removeRedundantAttributes: true,
useShortDoctype: true,
removeEmptyAttributes: true,
removeStyleLinkTypeAttributes: true,
keepClosingSlash: true,
minifyJS: true,
minifyCSS: true,
minifyURLs: true
}
}),
new webpack.DefinePlugin({ 'process.env.NODE_ENV': '"production"' }),
new webpack.optimize.OccurrenceOrderPlugin(),
new webpack.optimize.DedupePlugin(),
new webpack.optimize.UglifyJsPlugin({
compressor: {
screw_ie8: true,
warnings: false
},
mangle: {
screw_ie8: true
},
output: {
comments: false,
screw_ie8: true
}
}),
new ExtractTextPlugin('[name].[contenthash].css')
]
};
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
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| 9,604
|
ACCEPTED
#### According to
Index Fungorum
#### Published in
null
#### Original name
Lasiosphaeria disjuncta S. Ahmad & Lodhi
### Remarks
null
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
}
| 1,155
|
Q: Why am I not able to update data in SQLite database from Python? I am trying to update or rather modify the existing data in the particular cell of a SQLite database from Flask Python. But I can't update. Also I didn't receive any error while doing so. At the same time, I am able to insert a new data in the new row of the table.
Server side code:
@app.route("/")
@app.route("/<state>")
def get_post_javascript_data(state=None):
connection = sqlite3.connect('/home/pi/toggle7.db')
cursor = connection.cursor()
load = 'light5'
status = 'ON'
if state == 'Load1on':
sock.send('Load1ON')
print ("sent: Load1ON")
try:
cursor.execute("UPDATE user1 SET load = 'light5' WHERE id='1'")
connection.commit()
message = "success"
except:
connection.rollback()
message = "failure"
finally:
connection.close()
print (message)
A: UPDATE user1 SET load = 'light5' WHERE id='1'
This command updates all rows that have the value '1' in the id column.
If nothing happens, then this implies that there is no such row.
If the id column contains numbers, then you must search for a number:
... WHERE id=1
And you should always use parameters to avoid formatting problems like this (and SQL injection attacks):
cursor.execute('UPDATE user1 SET load = ? WHERE id = ?', ['light5', 1])
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
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| 2,029
|
{"url":"https:\/\/www.vedantu.com\/question-answer\/if-a-matrix-has-13-elements-then-the-possible-class-12-maths-cbse-5f6221f67d7dc34d3bce51dc","text":"Question\n\n# If a matrix has 13 elements, then the possible dimensions (orders) of the matrix are (a) $13\\times 1\\text{ or }1\\times 13$ (b) $1\\times 26\\text{ or 26}\\times \\text{1}$ (c) $2\\times 13\\text{ or 13}\\times \\text{2}$ (d) $13\\times 13$\n\nNow, we let the dimension of the matrix be $x\\times y$ . So, according to the above constraints, we can say that x, y are non-negative integers, and $xy=13$ .\nNow, there are only two sets (x,y) satisfying the condition mentioned above: (13,1) and (1,13). So, the dimensions of the matrix can be $13\\times 1\\text{ or }1\\times 13$ .","date":"2020-09-23 14:00:31","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 0, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.9623966813087463, \"perplexity\": 161.0151035622322}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2020-40\/segments\/1600400210996.32\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20200923113029-20200923143029-00045.warc.gz\"}"}
| null | null |
Q: Selenium - Retaining firefox cache and history files Is there a way to disable Selenium creating a temporary directory and profile when it starts Firefox?
I fully understand why Selenium does things as it does. I am just experimenting it as I try to create Firefox caches and histories with it for computer forensic training purposes. To this end, I have set up a clean virtual machine with a pristine user account. I can now run a Python script with selenium API to start firefox, visit a couple of web pages and shut down.
THe problem is, it leaves nothing behind. This is of course excellent if you are using selenium in its original purpose, but it thwarts my work by deleting everything.
So is there a way to disable the temporary profile creation and just start Firefox as it would start if ran by the user without Selenium.
Addition 5:34PM:
Java API documentation mentions a system property webdriver.reap_profile that would prevent deletion of temporary files. I went to the source of the problem and it appears this does not appear in Python WebDriver class:
def quit(self):
"""Quits the driver and close every associated window."""
try:
RemoteWebDriver.quit(self)
except (http_client.BadStatusLine, socket.error):
# Happens if Firefox shutsdown before we've read the response from
# the socket.
pass
self.binary.kill()
try:
shutil.rmtree(self.profile.path)
if self.profile.tempfolder is not None:
shutil.rmtree(self.profile.tempfolder)
except Exception as e:
print(str(e))
Deletion of files upon quit appears to be unconditional. I will solve this in my case by injecting
return self.profile.path
just after self.binary.kill(). This probably breaks all sorts of things and is a horrible thing to do but it appears to do exactly what I want it to do. The return value tells the calling function the random name of the temporary directory under /tmp. Not elegant but appears to work.
A: Addition 5:34PM: Java API documentation mentions a system property webdriver.reap_profile that would prevent deletion of temporary files. I went to the source of the problem and it appears this does not appear in Python WebDriver class:
def quit(self):
"""Quits the driver and close every associated window."""
try:
RemoteWebDriver.quit(self)
except (http_client.BadStatusLine, socket.error):
# Happens if Firefox shutsdown before we've read the response from
# the socket.
pass
self.binary.kill()
try:
shutil.rmtree(self.profile.path)
if self.profile.tempfolder is not None:
shutil.rmtree(self.profile.tempfolder)
except Exception as e:
print(str(e))
Deletion of files upon quit appears to be unconditional. I will solve this in my case by injecting
return self.profile.path
in /usr/local/lib/python2.7/dist-packages/selenium/webdriver/firefox/webdriver.py just after self.binary.kill(). This probably breaks all sorts of things and is a horrible thing to do but it appears to do exactly what I want it to do. The return value tells the calling function the random name of the temporary directory under /tmp. Not elegant but appears to wor after a recompile.
If a more elegant solution exists, I would be happy to flag that as the correct one.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
}
| 6,094
|
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</ul>
<div class="social-links hidden-lg hidden-md hidden-sm circle small">
<div class="btn-group dropdown">
<button type="button" class="btn dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown"><i class="fa fa-share-alt"></i></button>
<ul class="dropdown-menu dropdown-animation">
<li class="twitter"><a target="_blank" href="http://www.twitter.com"><i class="fa fa-twitter"></i></a></li>
<li class="skype"><a target="_blank" href="http://www.skype.com"><i class="fa fa-skype"></i></a></li>
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</ul>
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</div>
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<li>
<table class="table table-hover">
<thead>
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<th class="quantity">QTY</th>
<th class="product">Product</th>
<th class="amount">Subtotal</th>
</tr>
</thead>
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<td class="quantity">2 x</td>
<td class="product"><a href="shop-product.html">Android 4.4 Smartphone</a><span class="small">4.7" Dual Core 1GB</span></td>
<td class="amount">$199.00</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="quantity">3 x</td>
<td class="product"><a href="shop-product.html">Android 4.2 Tablet</a><span class="small">7.3" Quad Core 2GB</span></td>
<td class="amount">$299.00</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="quantity">3 x</td>
<td class="product"><a href="shop-product.html">Desktop PC</a><span class="small">Quad Core 3.2MHz, 8GB RAM, 1TB Hard Disk</span></td>
<td class="amount">$1499.00</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="total-quantity" colspan="2">Total 8 Items</td>
<td class="total-amount">$1997.00</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
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<a href="shop-cart.html" class="btn btn-group btn-gray btn-sm">View Cart</a>
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<li>
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<li ><a href="page-about.html"><i class="fa fa-angle-right"></i>About Us 1</a></li>
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<li ><a href="page-login.html"><i class="fa fa-angle-right"></i>Login 1</a></li>
<li ><a href="page-login-2.html"><i class="fa fa-angle-right"></i>Login 2 - Fullsreen</a></li>
<li ><a href="page-signup.html"><i class="fa fa-angle-right"></i>Sign Up 1</a></li>
<li ><a href="page-signup-2.html"><i class="fa fa-angle-right"></i>Sign Up 2 - Fullsreen</a></li>
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<li ><a href="page-404.html"><i class="fa fa-angle-right"></i>404 error</a></li>
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<li ><a href="page-sitemap.html"><i class="fa fa-angle-right"></i>Sitemap</a></li>
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<h4 class="title">Premium HTML5 Template</h4>
<p class="mb-10">The Project is perfectly suitable for corporate, business and company webpages.</p>
<img src="images/section-image-3.png" alt="The Project">
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<a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="#">Headers <span class="badge">v1.2</span></a>
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<li ><a href="features-headers-default.html">Default/Semi-Transparent</a></li>
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<li ><a href="features-headers-gradient-light.html">Gradient Light <span class="badge">v1.2</span></a></li>
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<li ><a href="features-headers-classic-dark.html">Classic Dark</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-headers-colored.html">Colored/Light</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-headers-colored-dark.html">Colored/Dark</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-headers-full-width.html">Full Width</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-headers-offcanvas-left.html">Offcanvas Left Side</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-headers-offcanvas-right.html">Offcanvas Right Side</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-headers-logo-centered.html">Logo Centered</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-headers-slider-top.html">Slider Top</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-headers-simple.html">Simple Static</a></li>
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</li>
<li class="dropdown ">
<a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="#">Sticky Headers <span class="badge">v1.2</span></a>
<ul class="dropdown-menu">
<li ><a href="features-headers-default.html">Default</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-headers-sticky-2.html">Alternative <span class="badge">v1.2</span></a></li>
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</li>
<li class="dropdown ">
<a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="#">Menus</a>
<ul class="dropdown-menu">
<li ><a href="features-headers-default.html">Default/On Hover Menu</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-menus-onhover-no-animations.html">On Hover Menu - No Animations</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-menus-onclick.html">On Click Menu - With Animations</a></li>
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<li class="dropdown ">
<a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="#">Footers <span class="badge">v1.2</span></a>
<ul class="dropdown-menu">
<li ><a href="features-footers-default.html#footer">Default</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-footers-contact-form.html#footer">Contact Form</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-footers-contact-form-2.html#footer">Contact Form 2 <span class="badge">v1.2</span></a></li>
<li ><a href="features-footers-google-maps.html#footer">Google Maps</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-footers-subscribe.html#footer">Subscribe Form</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-footers-minimal.html#footer">Minimal</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-footers-links.html#footer">Links <span class="badge">v1.1</span></a></li>
<li ><a href="features-footers-full-width.html#footer">Full Width <span class="badge">v1.2</span></a></li>
</ul>
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<li class="dropdown ">
<a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="#">Main Sliders <span class="badge">v1.2</span></a>
<ul class="dropdown-menu">
<li ><a href="features-sliders-fullscreen.html">Full Screen</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-sliders-fullwidth.html">Full Width</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-sliders-fullwidth-big-height.html">Full Width - Big Height</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-sliders-boxedwidth-light.html">Boxed Width - Light Bg</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-sliders-boxedwidth-dark.html">Boxed Width - Dark Bg</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-sliders-boxedwidth-default.html">Boxed Width - Default Bg</a></li>
<li ><a href="features-sliders-video-background.html">Video Background</a></li>
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<a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="#">Email Templates <span class="badge">v1.1</span></a>
<ul class="dropdown-menu">
<li><a target="_blank" href="email_templates/email_template_blue.html">Blue</a></li>
<li><a target="_blank" href="email_templates/email_template_brown.html">Brown</a></li>
<li><a target="_blank" href="email_templates/email_template_cool_green.html">Cool Green</a></li>
<li><a target="_blank" href="email_templates/email_template_dark_cyan.html">Dark Cyan</a></li>
<li><a target="_blank" href="email_templates/email_template_dark_red.html">Dark Red</a></li>
<li><a target="_blank" href="email_templates/email_template_gold.html">Gold</a></li>
<li><a target="_blank" href="email_templates/email_template_gray.html">Gray</a></li>
<li><a target="_blank" href="email_templates/email_template_green.html">Green</a></li>
<li><a target="_blank" href="email_templates/email_template_light_blue.html">Light Blue</a></li>
<li><a target="_blank" href="email_templates/email_template_orange.html">Orange</a></li>
<li><a target="_blank" href="email_templates/email_template_pink.html">Pink</a></li>
<li><a target="_blank" href="email_templates/email_template_purple.html">Purple</a></li>
<li><a target="_blank" href="email_templates/email_template_red.html">Red</a></li>
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<a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="#">Pricing Tables</a>
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<li ><a href="features-pricing-tables-1.html">Pricing Tables 1</a></li>
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<li ><a href="features-icons-fontawesome.html">Font Awesome</a></li>
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<h4 class="title"><i class="fa fa-magic pr-10"></i> Components</h4>
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<div class="col-sm-6">
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<li ><a href="components-lightbox.html"><i class="icon-plus pr-10"></i>Lightbox</a></li>
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<li ><a href="components-announcement-default.html"><i class="icon-megaphone pr-10"></i>Announcements <span class="badge">v1.3</span></a></li>
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<a href="portfolio-grid-2-3-col.html" class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown">Portfolio</a>
<ul class="dropdown-menu">
<li class="dropdown ">
<a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="#">Portfolio Grid 1</a>
<ul class="dropdown-menu">
<li ><a href="portfolio-grid-1-2-col.html">2 Column</a></li>
<li ><a href="portfolio-grid-1-3-col.html">3 Column</a></li>
<li ><a href="portfolio-grid-1-4-col.html">4 Column</a></li>
<li ><a href="portfolio-grid-1-sidebar.html">With Sidebar</a></li>
</ul>
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<li class="dropdown ">
<a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="#">Portfolio Grid 2</a>
<ul class="dropdown-menu">
<li ><a href="portfolio-grid-2-2-col.html">2 Column</a></li>
<li ><a href="portfolio-grid-2-3-col.html">3 Column</a></li>
<li ><a href="portfolio-grid-2-4-col.html">4 Column</a></li>
<li ><a href="portfolio-grid-2-sidebar.html">With Sidebar</a></li>
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</li>
<li class="dropdown ">
<a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="#">Portfolio Grid 3 - Dark</a>
<ul class="dropdown-menu">
<li ><a href="portfolio-grid-3-2-col.html">2 Column</a></li>
<li ><a href="portfolio-grid-3-3-col.html">3 Column</a></li>
<li ><a href="portfolio-grid-3-4-col.html">4 Column</a></li>
<li ><a href="portfolio-grid-3-sidebar.html">With Sidebar</a></li>
</ul>
</li>
<li class="dropdown ">
<a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="#">Portfolio Fullwidth</a>
<ul class="dropdown-menu">
<li ><a href="portfolio-fullwidth-2-col.html">2 Column</a></li>
<li ><a href="portfolio-fullwidth-3-col.html">3 Column</a></li>
<li ><a href="portfolio-fullwidth-4-col.html">4 Column</a></li>
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<li class="dropdown ">
<a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="#">Portfolio List</a>
<ul class="dropdown-menu">
<li ><a href="portfolio-list-1.html">List - Large Images</a></li>
<li ><a href="portfolio-list-2.html">List - Small Images</a></li>
<li ><a href="portfolio-list-sidebar.html">With Sidebar</a></li>
</ul>
</li>
<li ><a href="portfolio-item.html">Single Item 1</a></li>
<li ><a href="portfolio-item-2.html">Single Item 2</a></li>
<li ><a href="portfolio-item-3.html">Single Item 3</a></li>
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<li class="dropdown ">
<a href="index-shop.html" class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown">Shop</a>
<ul class="dropdown-menu">
<li ><a href="index-shop.html">Shop Home 1</a></li>
<li ><a href="index-shop-2.html">Shop Home 2</a></li>
<li ><a href="shop-listing-4col.html">Grid - 4 Columns</a></li>
<li ><a href="shop-listing-3col.html">Grid - 3 Columns</a></li>
<li ><a href="shop-listing-2col.html">Grid - 2 Columns</a></li>
<li ><a href="shop-listing-sidebar.html">Grid - With Sidebar</a></li>
<li ><a href="shop-listing-list.html">List</a></li>
<li ><a href="shop-product.html">Product Page</a></li>
<li ><a href="shop-product-2.html">Product Page 2 <span class="badge">v1.3</span></a></li>
<li ><a href="shop-cart.html">Shopping Cart</a></li>
<li ><a href="shop-checkout.html">Checkout Page - Step 1</a></li>
<li ><a href="shop-checkout-payment.html">Checkout Page - Step 2</a></li>
<li ><a href="shop-checkout-review.html">Checkout Page - Step 3</a></li>
<li ><a href="shop-invoice.html">Invoice</a></li>
</ul>
</li>
<li class="dropdown active">
<a href="blog-large-image-right-sidebar.html" class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown">Blog</a>
<ul class="dropdown-menu">
<li ><a href="index-blog.html">Blog Home <span class="badge">v1.1</span></a></li>
<li ><a href="index-blog-2.html">Blog Home 2 <span class="badge">v1.3</span></a></li>
<li class="dropdown ">
<a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="#">Large Image</a>
<ul class="dropdown-menu to-left">
<li ><a href="blog-large-image-right-sidebar.html">Right Sidebar</a></li>
<li ><a href="blog-large-image-left-sidebar.html">Left Sidebar</a></li>
<li ><a href="blog-large-image-no-sidebar.html">Without Sidebar</a></li>
</ul>
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<li class="dropdown ">
<a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="#">Medium Image</a>
<ul class="dropdown-menu to-left">
<li ><a href="blog-medium-image-right-sidebar.html">Right Sidebar</a></li>
<li ><a href="blog-medium-image-left-sidebar.html">Left Sidebar</a></li>
<li ><a href="blog-medium-image-no-sidebar.html">Without Sidebar</a></li>
</ul>
</li>
<li class="dropdown ">
<a class="dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown" href="#">Masonry</a>
<ul class="dropdown-menu to-left">
<li ><a href="blog-masonry-right-sidebar.html">Right Sidebar</a></li>
<li ><a href="blog-masonry-left-sidebar.html">Left Sidebar</a></li>
<li ><a href="blog-masonry-no-sidebar.html">Without Sidebar</a></li>
</ul>
</li>
<li ><a href="blog-timeline.html">Timeline</a></li>
<li class="active"><a href="blog-post.html">Blog Post</a></li>
</ul>
</li>
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<div class="header-dropdown-buttons hidden-xs ">
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<button type="button" class="btn dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown"><i class="icon-search"></i></button>
<ul class="dropdown-menu dropdown-menu-right dropdown-animation">
<li>
<form role="search" class="search-box margin-clear">
<div class="form-group has-feedback">
<input type="text" class="form-control" placeholder="Search">
<i class="icon-search form-control-feedback"></i>
</div>
</form>
</li>
</ul>
</div>
<div class="btn-group dropdown">
<button type="button" class="btn dropdown-toggle" data-toggle="dropdown"><i class="icon-basket-1"></i><span class="cart-count default-bg">8</span></button>
<ul class="dropdown-menu dropdown-menu-right dropdown-animation cart">
<li>
<table class="table table-hover">
<thead>
<tr>
<th class="quantity">QTY</th>
<th class="product">Product</th>
<th class="amount">Subtotal</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="quantity">2 x</td>
<td class="product"><a href="shop-product.html">Android 4.4 Smartphone</a><span class="small">4.7" Dual Core 1GB</span></td>
<td class="amount">$199.00</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="quantity">3 x</td>
<td class="product"><a href="shop-product.html">Android 4.2 Tablet</a><span class="small">7.3" Quad Core 2GB</span></td>
<td class="amount">$299.00</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="quantity">3 x</td>
<td class="product"><a href="shop-product.html">Desktop PC</a><span class="small">Quad Core 3.2MHz, 8GB RAM, 1TB Hard Disk</span></td>
<td class="amount">$1499.00</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="total-quantity" colspan="2">Total 8 Items</td>
<td class="total-amount">$1997.00</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<div class="panel-body text-right">
<a href="shop-cart.html" class="btn btn-group btn-gray btn-sm">View Cart</a>
<a href="shop-checkout.html" class="btn btn-group btn-gray btn-sm">Checkout</a>
</div>
</li>
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</div>
</div>
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<div class="container">
<div class="row">
<!-- main start -->
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<div class="main col-md-8">
<!-- page-title start -->
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<h1 class="page-title">Blog Post</h1>
<!-- page-title end -->
<!-- blogpost start -->
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<article class="blogpost full">
<header>
<div class="post-info">
<span class="post-date">
<i class="icon-calendar"></i>
<span class="day">12</span>
<span class="month">May 2015</span>
</span>
<span class="submitted"><i class="icon-user-1"></i> by <a href="#">John Doe</a></span>
<span class="comments"><i class="icon-chat"></i> <a href="#">22 comments</a></span>
</div>
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</div>
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<div class="overlay-container">
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<h2 class="title">There are 3 comments</h2>
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<h3>Comment title</h3>
<div class="comment-meta">By <a href="#">admin</a> | Today, 12:31</div>
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<div class="comment-meta">By <a href="#">admin</a> | Today, 12:31</div>
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<p>Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo </p>
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|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
}
| 6,118
|
Q: Using the new java time API with floating points I am looking at the new java.time.* API. It seems very convenient to work with, much more so than the old java.util.Date API. My only problem is the following: I consider some models describing durations which internally use functions evaluating to doubles describing the non-integral amount of seconds which has passed. Can I somehow construct/manipulate Duration / LocalDateTime objects using floating points (which should then be converted to appropriate second/millisecond/nanosecond durations)?
A: I haven't used this yet, but it appears you could use Duration.parse(). Format your double variables as strings appropriately, e.g.
String dateString = "PT"+Double.toString(yourDouble)+"s";
Duration myDuration = Duration.parse(dateString);
You can then get seconds, milliseconds etc from the Duration object.
A: Ok, I have given this some thought and I have come up with two methods:
Firstly, as J Richard Snape pointed out it is possible to create a String which then can be parsed into a floating point like so:
DecimalFormat df = new DecimalFormat("#");
df.setMaximumFractionDigits(8);
String dateString = df.format(val);
if(dateString.startsWith(".")) {
dateString = "0" + dateString;
}
Duration.parse("PT" + dateString + "s");
The whole shenanigans are required because the Duration class is rather picky about how a valid floating point sequence should look like, in particular it seems to have to start with a digit and scientific notation is not allowed.
As an alternative the following one-liner will do reasonably well:
Duration.ofNanos((long) (val * 1e9));
Obviously some decimals are cut off (and I guess an overflow might be possible?!), however for my purposes this is accurate enough.
The main advantage of the latter approach is the performance: For a sample of 10,000,000 randomly generated values the String parsing takes about 20 seconds on my machine, whereas the creation from nanoseconds only takes about 0.3 seconds.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
}
| 461
|
package ericminio.demo.chat.domain;
import java.io.Serializable;
import java.util.ArrayList;
import java.util.Arrays;
public class Group implements Serializable {
private ArrayList<Person> persons;
private Person owner;
public Group() {
}
public Group(Person ... persons) {
this.persons = new ArrayList<>(Arrays.asList(persons));
}
public Group(ArrayList<Person> persons) {
this.persons = persons;
}
public boolean equals(Object o) {
if (!(o instanceof Group)) {
return false;
}
Group other = (Group) o;
if (other.persons.size() != this.persons.size()) {
return false;
}
for (int i=0; i<this.persons.size(); i++) {
if (!(this.persons.get(i).equals(other.persons.get(i)))) {
return false;
}
}
return true;
}
public String toString() {
return persons.toString();
}
public ArrayList<Person> getPersons() {
return persons;
}
public void setPersons(ArrayList<Person> persons) {
this.persons = persons;
}
public void setOwner(Person owner) {
this.owner = owner;
}
public Person getOwner() {
return owner;
}
}
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
}
| 9,219
|
> 编写: [XizhiXu](https://github.com/XizhiXu) - 校对:
> 原文: <http://developer.android.com/training/animation/crossfade.html>
# View间渐变
渐变动画(也叫消失)通常指渐渐的淡出某个 UI 组件,同时同步地淡入另一个。在你 App 想切换内容或 view的情况下,这种动画很有用。渐变简短不易察觉,它也能提供从一个界面到下一个之间流畅的转换。当你不使用它们,不管怎么样转换经常感到生硬而仓促。
下面是一个利用进度指示渐变到一些文本内容的例子。
<div style="
background: transparent url(device_galaxynexus_blank_land_span8.png) no-repeat
scroll top left; padding: 26px 68px 38px 72px; overflow: hidden;">
<video style="width: 320px; height: 180px;" controls="" autoplay="">
<source src="anim_crossfade.mp4" type="video/mp4">
<source src="anim_crossfade.webm" type="video/webm">
<source src="anim_crossfade.ogv" type="video/ogg">
</video>
</div>
如果你想跳过看整个例子,[下载](http://developer.android.com/shareables/training/Animations.zip) App 样例然后运行渐变例子。查看下列文件中的代码实现:
* src/CrossfadeActivity.java
* layout/activity_crossfade.xml
* menu/activity_crossfade.xml
## 创建View
创建两个你想相互渐变的 view。下面的例子创建了一个进度提示圈和可滑动文本 view。
```xml
<FrameLayout xmlns:android="http://schemas.android.com/apk/res/android"
android:layout_width="match_parent"
android:layout_height="match_parent">
<ScrollView xmlns:android="http://schemas.android.com/apk/res/android"
android:id="@+id/content"
android:layout_width="match_parent"
android:layout_height="match_parent">
<TextView style="?android:textAppearanceMedium"
android:lineSpacingMultiplier="1.2"
android:layout_width="match_parent"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:text="@string/lorem_ipsum"
android:padding="16dp" />
</ScrollView>
<ProgressBar android:id="@+id/loading_spinner"
style="?android:progressBarStyleLarge"
android:layout_width="wrap_content"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:layout_gravity="center" />
</FrameLayout>
```
## 设置动画
为设置动画,你需要:
1. 为你想渐变的 view 创建成员变量。之后动画应用途中修改 View 的时候你会需要这些引用的。
2. 对于被淡出的 view,设置它的 visibility 为 [GONE](http://developer.android.com/reference/android/view/View.html#GONE)。这样防止 view 再占据布局的空间,而且也能在布局计算中将其忽略,加速处理过程。
3. 将 [config_shortAnimTime](http://developer.android.com/reference/android/R.integer.html#config_shortAnimTime) 系统属性暂存到一个成员变量里。这个属性为动画定义了一个标准的"短"持续时间。对于微妙或者快速发生的动画,这是个很理想的时间段。[config_longAnimTime](http://developer.android.com/reference/android/R.integer.html#config_longAnimTime) 和 [config_mediumAnimTime](http://developer.android.com/reference/android/R.integer.html#config_mediumAnimTime) 也行,如果你想用的话。
下面是个内容 view 的 activity 例子,它使用了前面所述代码片段中的布局。
```java
public class CrossfadeActivity extends Activity {
private View mContentView;
private View mLoadingView;
private int mShortAnimationDuration;
...
@Override
protected void onCreate(Bundle savedInstanceState) {
super.onCreate(savedInstanceState);
setContentView(R.layout.activity_crossfade);
mContentView = findViewById(R.id.content);
mLoadingView = findViewById(R.id.loading_spinner);
// Initially hide the content view.
mContentView.setVisibility(View.GONE);
// Retrieve and cache the system's default "short" animation time.
mShortAnimationDuration = getResources().getInteger(
android.R.integer.config_shortAnimTime);
}
```
## 渐变View
既然正确地设置了那些 view,做下面这些事情来渐变他们吧:
1. 对于淡入的 view,设置 alpha 值为 0 并且设置 visibility 为 [VISIBLE](http://developer.android.com/reference/android/view/View.html#VISIBLE)(要记得他起初被设置成了 [GONE](http://developer.android.com/reference/android/view/View.html#GONE))。这让 view 可见了但是它是透明的。
2. 对于淡入的 view,把 alpha 值从 0 动态改变到 1。同时,对于淡出的 view,把 alpha 值从 1 动态变到 0。
3. 使用 [Animator.AnimatorListener](http://developer.android.com/reference/android/animation/Animator.AnimatorListener.html) 中的 <a href="http://developer.android.com/reference/android/animation/Animator.AnimatorListener.html#onAnimationEnd(android.animation.Animator)">onAnimationEnd()</a>,设置淡出 view 的 visibility 为 [GONE](http://developer.android.com/reference/android/view/View.html#GONE)。即使 alpha 值为 0,也要把 view 的 visibility 设置成 [GONE](http://developer.android.com/reference/android/view/View.html#GONE) 来防止 view 占据布局空间,还能把它从布局计算中忽略,加速处理过程。
下面方法展示如何去做:
```java
private View mContentView;
private View mLoadingView;
private int mShortAnimationDuration;
...
private void crossfade() {
// Set the content view to 0% opacity but visible, so that it is visible
// (but fully transparent) during the animation.
mContentView.setAlpha(0f);
mContentView.setVisibility(View.VISIBLE);
// Animate the content view to 100% opacity, and clear any animation
// listener set on the view.
mContentView.animate()
.alpha(1f)
.setDuration(mShortAnimationDuration)
.setListener(null);
// Animate the loading view to 0% opacity. After the animation ends,
// set its visibility to GONE as an optimization step (it won't
// participate in layout passes, etc.)
mLoadingView.animate()
.alpha(0f)
.setDuration(mShortAnimationDuration)
.setListener(new AnimatorListenerAdapter() {
@Override
public void onAnimationEnd(Animator animation) {
mLoadingView.setVisibility(View.GONE);
}
});
}
```
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
}
| 6,485
|
El Comte AC-11V fue un monoplano de cabina triplaza suizo de los años 30 del siglo XX producido por la Flugzeugbau A. Comte, ideado para la fotografía aérea y el levantamiento de mapas.
Diseño y desarrollo
El AC-11V era un monoplano de ala alta con tren de aterrizaje convencional de patín de cola y estaba propulsado por un motor radial Armstrong Siddeley Lynx de 164 kW (220 hp), moviendo una hélice bipala de madera. Las alas eran trapezoidales y tenían, al igual que el empenaje, puntas redondeadas. Estando previsto su uso como avión de reconocimiento y fotografía aérea, los escapes del motor se unían en un tubo que pasaba por debajo de la cabina hasta casi el patín de cola, impidiendo que los gases entorpecieran las misiones de la tripulación.
La cabina cerrada tenía asientos lado a lado para un piloto y un copiloto (o un especialista en fotografía aérea). Para facilitar el acceso a la cabina, el asiento de estribor se plegaba hacia un lado. Se montó otro asiento móvil en raíles dispuestos en toda la longitud de la cabina; podía bloquearse en cualquier posición de los mismos, accediendo a las ventanas laterales. Se instaló una ventana entre los asientos de los pilotos para permitir lecturas de deriva y otra detrás que permitía usar una cámara vertical.
Historia operacional
El único ejemplar voló por primera vez en 1931 o 1932, con la matrícula CH-285 (luego HB-KIM). Aunque no era rápido, sí era muy estable en vuelo, lo que permitía tomas muy nítidas. Presentado a la Fuerza Aérea Suiza, esta no mostró interés, comprando en su lugar tres BFM (Messerschmitt) M-18 para realizar la tarea. El avión fue comprado por el Aero Club de Lausana.
Durante los años de la Segunda Guerra Mundial, el avión fue usado por la Fuerza Aérea Suiza para realizar mapas detallados de Suiza. Fue requisado en 1943, recibiendo la matrícula C-715. En 1945 fue devuelto al Aero Club de Lausana, donde fue modificado para el transporte de pasajeros.
Operadores
Fuerza Aérea Suiza
Especificaciones
Véase también
Referencias
Bibliografía
11
Aeronaves de ala alta
Aviones tractores monomotores
Aeronaves civiles utilitarias de Suiza de los años 1930
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaWikipedia"
}
| 6,258
|
Płudy – wieś w Polsce położona w województwie lubelskim, w powiecie radzyńskim, w gminie Radzyń Podlaski.
W latach 1975–1998 miejscowość należała administracyjnie do województwa bialskopodlaskiego.
Wierni Kościoła rzymskokatolickiego należą do parafii Trójcy Świętej w Radzyniu Podlaskim.
Przypisy
Radzyń Podlaski (gmina wiejska)
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaWikipedia"
}
| 4,900
|
Outside my window…5:35 and dark. 28 degrees outside, but the snow and ice are gone.
I am thinking…about the schedule I've been plugging away at. I sure do hope that for all the time it is taking me to do it, that it will be worthwhile and keep things running more smoothly around here.
I am thankful for…Confession and Communion. Even when my prayer life is totally arid and lackluster, those two sacraments give me the strength I need to hang in there. And at the Chapel of Divine Mercy, as with other churches with Fathers of Mercy pastors, confessions are heard right before Mass every Sunday.
From the kitchen...Pancakes? I haven't really worked out my menu plan this week, but I have a full pantry and freezer, so I hope my schedule won't cave in because of this oversight!
I am reading ...A Mother's Rule of Life. I also have Goodbye, Good Men on the bedside and read a little of it here and there, but it is tough to read. I have to put it down after a few pages. And I have How to Tell Stories to Children to read.
I am hoping...that my schedule will be useful this week, and that Madeline does well!
I am hearing…just the sound om my Gabriel playing quietly in the living room by himself.
A few plans for the rest of the week: knitting another pair of fingerless gloves; ordering a few things for a little boy in this house who will be 5 on the 5th of February; continued work on scheduling and menu planning; a visit from friends on Friday: Bret will be teaching a friend how to hook up a Jersey cow to a surge milking machine!
Picture Thought: this isn't Madeline, it is Faith, a baby born in Ireland. This is what a 2lb, 20z baby looks like. Maddie is an ounce less...and I remember thinking how tiny Gemma's hands looked at birth! Visit Peggy for more Daybook entries, and have a blessed week!
Thank you for sharing about your day.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
}
| 9,334
|
\section{Introduction}
\label{secIntro}
\input{intro.tex}
\section{Related work}
\label{secRelated}
\input{related.tex}
\section{Session Predictability}
\label{secPrediction}
\input{model.tex}
\section{Reinforcement learning based Adaptive charging}
\label{secAdaptive}
\input{learning.tex}
\section{Experimental Results and Discussion}
\subsection{EV chargepoint dataset}
\label{secDataset}
\input{dataset.tex}
\subsection{Results}
\label{secResults}
\input{results.tex}
\section{Conclusions and Future Work}
\label{secConclusion}
\input{conclusion.tex}
\bibliographystyle{IEEEtran}
\smaller
\subsection{Data model}
\label{secTechnology}
This section analyses the predictability of plugin session duration based on the history of past plugin sessions and shows the overall prediction accuracy together with the impact of each feature on the overall prediction accuracy.
The motivation for predicting the plugin session duration is that it can be used by the EV charger to evenly spread the required energy to reduce the peak demand.
The following features were extracted from the dataset to predict the current charging session duration:
session start hour, day of the week, time duration since the last charging session, and the amount of dispensed energy.
Although the dataset shows the amount of dispensed energy for each session, it does not indicate whether the EV was fully charged or whether it was just a top-up.
In the former case, the amount of dispensed energy can be assumed to be known at the start of the charging session.
In the latter, i.e. a top-up session, the amount of dispensed energy becomes known at the end of the charging session for which the duration needs to be predicted.
To account for both cases, the regression performance was conducted with and without this feature.
\subsection{Linear regression}
Linear regression models a continuous variable $y_j$ as a linear combination of independent variables $X$.
The advantage of regression analysis methods is that they are computationally efficient and are simple to understand.
\begin{equation}
y_j = \beta_0 + \sum_{i=1}^t\beta_i x_i + \epsilon_j
\end{equation}
Where $\beta_0$ is an intercept, $\beta_i$ is a slope, $t$ is the number of observations, $\epsilon_j$ is an error term, the part of the model that cannot explain the linear relationship.
The regressor weights are obtained during the training phase as the ratio of covariance between $x_i$ and $x_j$ and the variance of $x_i$:
\begin{equation}
\beta_i = \frac{cov(x_i, x_j)}{var(x_i)}
\end{equation}
\subsection{Performance Metrics}
The regression performance has been evaluated with mean absolute error (MAE), mean absolute percentage error (MAPE) and mean square error (MSE) metrics defined as shown below for reference.
\begin{equation}
\footnotesize
MAE = \sum_{n=1}^N\frac{|predicted - actual |}{N}
\end{equation}
\begin{equation}
\footnotesize
MAPE = \sum_{n=1}^N\frac{|predicted - actual |}{actual}\times \frac{100\%}{N}
\end{equation}
\begin{equation}
\footnotesize
MSE = \sum_{n=1}^N\frac{(predicted - actual)^2}{N}
\end{equation}
\subsection{Prediction accuracy}
\begin{table}[h!]
\smaller
\centering
\caption{Predicting session duration. }
\begin{tabular}{||c c c||}
\hline
MAE & MAPE & MSE \\ [0.5ex]
\hline\hline
14.04 & 413.93 & 11517.59 \\
\hline
\end{tabular}
\label{table:1}
\end{table}
The prediction accuracy was evaluated on each charge point using 4-fold cross-validation, separately for each charge point with the total prediction accuracy computed as an average for all charge points.
The data analysis has been performed using $R$ statistical package \cite{R}.
The overall prediction accuracy is 14.04 MAE and 413.93 MAPE.
Upon close inspection, the high MAPE values are contributed by a number of sessions, where the session duration was significantly overestimated.
While underestimating session duration is not critical and may result in supplying the target energy while reducing the load, overestimating the session duration is obviously detrimental to any predictive charging strategy.
This is because attempting to spread energy for a longer time than the actual session duration will result in missing the energy target.
The reason for low predictability is not in the limitations of the selected method, as similar results have been obtained using a variety of other techniques including deep neural network algorithms.
The latter required an immensely higher amount of computational power but resulted in only a modest improvement in accuracy.
The key reason is that the session duration is tightly related to human behavior, which is inherently hard to predict.
A weather condition, a traffic jam, or a road accident, personal plans are as likely to affect a session duration as the past history of charging sessions.
Possibly, enriching the data set with additional sensor data, such as weather, traffic conditions, or home occupancy sensors may improve the prediction accuracy.
However, the conclusion from the experiments in this study is that given the history of plugin sessions alone, prediction accuracy is too low for adaptive charging purpose.
\subsection{The impact of history size}
Figure \ref{fig:energyProfile22k} shows the aggregate energy profiles for different history sizes, as well as a comparison with those of raw and hypothetical charging.
As can be seen, the RL-based strategy reduces the peak by flattening the load and increasing the consumption during the nighttime.
The performance of the reinforcement-learning based strategy depends significantly on the history size.
Shorter history sizes reduce the peak power usage more aggressively but also result in higher energy deficits.
For a history size of 30, the peak power usage reduces by as much as 31\% in the evening period compared to raw charging.
As a comparison, a recent case study in Finland based on real data from 25,000 charging sessions collected over 2 years from 8 charging sites shows that the peak loads at charging sites can be reduced by up to 55\% \cite{Fenner20peakshaving}.
However, the optimization strategy used in the study computes the peak load as a ratio of dispensed energy to plugin duration, which requires the knowledge of the latter and corresponds to the hypothetical scenario in the presented study.
\cite{zhang2018smartcharging} shows up to 80\% of peak reductions, however, it does not attempt to reduce the quality of charging service.
\begin{figure}[t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=9cm]{figs/showEnergyProfileTop22k.pdf}
\caption{Adaptive learning performance aggregated across all charge stations. The RL-based strategy with the history size of 30 results in 31\% peak reduction. }
\label{fig:energyProfile22k}
\end{figure}
The adaptive strategy may result in some energy deficit due to lower charging speeds in the slow charging phase.
The total energy deficit was 276,227\, kWh or just 5.0\% of total dispensed energy.
Further analysis shows that 16\% of charge points have an energy deficit above 10\% of the total dispensed energy in that charge station.
As history gets longer, the algorithm becomes more conservative as it evaluates the charging parameters over a wider range of drivers' behavior.
For a history size of 60, the aggregate peak power reduces to 21\% with the total energy deficit reduced to 2.8\% or 159,934 kWh.
The percentage of charge points with an energy deficit above 10\% is 8.9\%.
Finally, for unlimited history size, the aggregate peak power reduced by 12.3\% with a total energy deficit of only 1.4\% or 78,882\,kW.
The percentage of charge points with an energy deficit above 10\% reduces to 7.2\%.
Figures \ref{fig:4plots}a-b show the distributions of total dispensed energy and maximum power rates for each charge station.
Figure \ref{fig:4plots}c shows that a vast majority of sessions result in a very small energy loss relative to the total energy dispensed by the relative charge station.
It can also be seen that a significant proportion of sessions charge at a rate much lower than the maximum power rate with a peak at 80\%, Figure \ref{fig:4plots}d.
Figure \ref{fig:speedDistribution} compares charging speeds for raw and RL-based charging.
It can be seen that the adaptive charging strategy results in significantly lower charging speeds.
The reduction in peak power usage in all reinforcement learning algorithm configurations is lower than approximately 50\% reduction provided by the hypothetical strategy, Figure \ref{fig:energyProfile22k} (green line).
However, it is important to note that the adaptive algorithm does not require actual knowledge of the session duration as it directly controls the charging parameters that maximize the reward.
\begin{figure}[t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=8cm]{figs/4plot.pdf}
\caption{a) The distribution of target dispensed energy. b) The distribution of charge station max rates. c) The distribution of energy loss. d) The distribution of boost phase duration relative to raw charge duration. }
\label{fig:4plots}
\end{figure}
\begin{figure}[t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=9cm]{figs/showSpeedDistribution.pdf}
\caption{Comparison of charging speeds for raw and RL-based charging. The latter charging strategy results in significantly lower charging speeds. }
\label{fig:speedDistribution}
\end{figure}
\subsection{The impact on charging duration}
\begin{figure}[t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=9cm]{figs/showOnlineEffSpeed.pdf}
\caption{Effective speed distribution for CP AN15123. The mean and median session power rates are 37.8\% and 28.3\% of charge point capacity respectively.}
\label{fig:onlineLearningEffSpeed}
\end{figure}
\begin{figure}[t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=9cm]{figs/showOnlineBoostDur.pdf}
\caption{The distribution of boost phase and slow charge durations for CP AN15123. The boost phase (left axis) is typically much shorter than a slow phase duration (right axis). A large number of sessions have a boost duration of 0.01 hours.
}
\label{fig:onlineLearningBoostDur}
\end{figure}
\begin{table}[b]
\smaller
\setlength{\tabcolsep}{3pt}
\centering
\caption{Boost and slow charge phase durations}
\begin{tabular}{ | c | c | c | c | c | c | c |}
\hline
\multicolumn{2}{|c|}{RL30} & \multicolumn{2}{c|}{RL60} & \multicolumn{2}{c|}{RL-ALL} & \multicolumn{1}{c|}{Raw} \\
\hline
BoostDur & SlowDur & BoostDur & SlowDur & BoostDur & SlowDur & EffectiveDur\\
\hline
0.30 & 3.47 & 0.40 & 2.92 & 0.49 & 2.55 & 1.82 \\
\hline
\end{tabular}
\label{tab:BoostDur}
\end{table}
\begin{figure}[t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=9cm]{figs/showOnlineAN15123.pdf}
\caption{Online learning performance for CP AN15123. History size = 60. Reinforcement based strategy effectively shaves the peaks spreading the load in time. }
\label{fig:onlineLearningProfile}
\end{figure}
The boost phase duration reduces the risk of undercharging as it charges the vehicle at the maximum power rate.
In the case of battery-assisted charge stations, where a large capacity battery is used to accumulate energy in between charging sessions to boost charge the EV, the knowledge of boost charge duration can also be useful to estimate the required charge point battery capacity or required charge level.
Table \ref{tab:BoostDur} compares the boost and slow charge phase durations for all three strategies.
In all cases, the boost phase duration is much shorter than an average effective charging rate of 1.82 under raw charging.
The latter is computed as the ratio of dispensed energy by the point power rate event and averaged across all sessions in all charge stations.
It can be seen that as the history sizes increases, the algorithm gets more conservative and allocates more time for boost charging.
\subsection{Online learning case study}
This section describes an evaluation of the approach in an online learning mode, where the agent optimizes charging parameters after each charging session, similar to how it would operate in a real deployment.
The performance is illustrated on a charge point AN15123, selected because it was the busiest charge point in the dataset with a charging rate above 7\,kW.
The charge point has a maximum charging rate of 54\,kW, and contained 1031 sessions.
Figures \ref{fig:onlineLearningEffSpeed}, \ref{fig:onlineLearningBoostDur}, \ref{fig:onlineLearningProfile} show the performance of the adaptive approach on one specific charge point selected arbitrarily.
The learning starts after the first 100 sessions, which represents 10\% of all charging sessions for all sessions for this charge point.
Figure \ref{fig:onlineLearningEffSpeed} shows the effective speed for the proposed strategy.
The median and mean effective speed ranges are only 0.28 and 0.37 of the maximum charging speed respectively.
The total energy deficit for the adaptive strategy was just 54\,kWh, which represents 1.3\% of all the energy dispensed by the charge point.
The algorithm effectively tracks user behavior and adapts the charging parameters accordingly.
Figure \ref{fig:onlineLearningBoostDur} compares the boost and slow phase durations for all sessions.
It can be seen that boost phase duration is typically small and below 0.12 hours, whereas slow charge durations can last up to 8.65 hours.
The mean effective charging speed, boost, and slow phases are 18.29\,kW, 0.02 hours and 1.19 hours respectively.
Figure \ref{fig:onlineLearningProfile} compares the overall energy profiles for raw, adaptive, and ideal charging strategies.
The raw charging results in sharp peaks in power consumption with the highest peak at around 6-9\,pm.
The adaptive charging strategy visibly reduces the peaks spreading the load in time.
The hypothetical strategy results in the highest peak reduction as it spreads the power evenly throughout each session.
However, it should be noted that it requires a perfect knowledge of plugin session duration, which is difficult to predict in practice, as was shown in the previous section.
\subsection{Discussion}
The study focuses on the maximum potential for reducing peak charging demand for individual charging stations using local historical information only.
The algorithm requires storing the past charging session history in its memory.
Since each session requires the storage of 3 values (start timestamp, end timestamp, dispensed energy).
Assuming 4 bytes for the first two and 2 bytes each for the latter, the annual data requirement will be approximately 3,650 bytes if the charging happens once a day.
The busiest domestic charge point in the dataset contained 1,381 sessions, which can be stored in just 13,810 bytes.
The algorithm should be suitable for implementation in an embedded platform and does not have significant computational overhead.
In this study, the proposed charging profile is similar to a step function, consisting of discrete high and low-speed phases.
The learning algorithm searches for the parameters of step height and step duration.
However, it may be possible to define a more general charging profile that takes into account battery characteristics, health, and other factors.
The more general approach would need to optimize the parameters of this function.
Investigating these ideas is a potential future work.
This research focuses on domestic charging, where there is a significant potential for energy coordination.
Public charge points as data indicates are characterized by frequent and short sessions, which are likely made at high speed.
The algorithm requires the knowledge of the maximum charging rate $P_{max}$, which is limited by both EV and charge point capabilities.
In the experiments, the value of $P_{max}$ was selected as the charger point's maximum charging power throughout the entire year.
This assumes that each household has a single electric vehicle, which should be a reasonable assumption considering today's price of EVs.
\subsection{Charging Function}
A charging function $F(t)$ is defined here as the target power profile for a given charging session over its entire duration, such that the total area under the curve is equal to a target amount of dispensed energy $\int F(t) = E_i$.
In the simplest case, a charging function $F(t)$ will have a constant value to represent charging at a certain power rate, and the learning algorithm would try to find an optimal value of the rate.
In this study, a more complex charging strategy is considered, where a charging session consists of a boost charging phase at a maximum rate $P_{max}$ for a duration of $T_{boostDur}$ followed by low-power charging at a low power rate $P_{slow}$ for the rest of the session.
The strategy can also be useful in energy management in battery-assisted charging systems, which accumulate energy in between charging sessions and then use it to boost-charge the EV.
The selected charging function is defined by 2 parameters, $T_{boostDur}$ and a low power charge rate
$P_{slow} = P_{optimal}P_{max}$.
The parameters of $T_{BoostDur}$ and the coefficient $P_{optimal} \le 1$ are learned by an algorithm based on historical usage data and are updated dynamically after each charging event as described in the following subsection.
It should be noted that throughout the paper the terms 'low power' and 'slow' charging will be used interchangeably.
\subsection{Reward function}
The agent's reward is designed to decrease with either an energy loss $E_{loss}$ or the aggregate charging rate $P_{aggr}$ over previous sessions:
\begin{equation}
R =
\begin{cases}
-k_1 E_{loss} + k_2 /P_{aggr}, & if E_{loss} < E_{maxLoss}\\
-\infty, & if E_{loss} \ge E_{maxLoss}
\end{cases}
\end{equation}
To define a maximum acceptable energy loss, the reward function is set to negative infinity, if the energy loss exceeds a certain threshold, which in this study was selected as $E_{maxLoss}$ = 10$\,$kWh.
The parameters $k_1$ and $k_2$ are constants that define the relative weights of energy loss and charging rate respectively.
The optimal policy is such that minimizes the aggregate charging rate across all charging sessions in the past while ensuring that the energy loss is kept below a threshold.
An energy loss $E_{loss}$ is computed as a total sum of differences between the target $E_{target,i}$ and actually delivered energy amounts $E_{total, i}$ across all past sessions:
$E_{loss} = \sum_i^N(E_{target,i} - E_{total, i})$,
where $E_{target,i}$ represents the target amount of energy required to charge the vehicle in session $i$ and and is taken from the dataset.
The actual dispensed energy $E_{total, i}$ is always less than or equal than the target amount of energy, $E_{total, i} \leq E_{target,i}$ due to lower effective charging speed in adaptive mode.
The analysis shows that in the vast majority of domestic charging sessions the ratio of dispensed energy to plugin duration is lower than the maximum charging speed.
The second component of the reward function, the aggregate power rate $P_{aggr}$ for each charge station, is computed as a sum of effective charging session rates weighted by the corresponding amount of dispensed energy:
\begin{equation}
\footnotesize
P_{aggr} = \sum{(P_{eff_i} E_{total,i} )} / \sum{E_{total,i}}
\end{equation}
The session effective charging rate $P_{eff_i} $ is computed as the charging speed weighted by the amount of energy dispensed at that speed:
\begin{equation}
\footnotesize
P_{eff, i} = \frac{( E_{Boost, i}+ P_{rate} (E_{Adap, i}-E_{Boost, i}))} {E_{target, i}} P_{max}
\end{equation}
Where $E_{Boost, i}$ and $(E_{Adap, i} - E_{Boost, i})$ are the amounts of energy dispensed in boost and low-power (slow) charge modes respectively.
$P_{rate} \le 1$ is a candidate value of the slow charge rate coefficient, which is defined as the proportion of the maximum power rate, $P_{max}$.
Finally, $E_{Adap, i} \le E_{target}$ is the actual amount of energy delivered in adaptive mode respectively.
The session effective charging rate reduces with lower boost energy $ E_{Boost, i}$ and lower low-power charge rate $P_{rate}$, so the learning algorithm seeks to reduce those parameters as discussed in the next subsection.
\subsection{Training}
\begin{algorithm}[t]
\footnotesize
\DontPrintSemicolon
\SetKwFunction{FMain}{LearnRLModel}
\FMain{}{\\
// {\em init the optimal boost duration} \\
$T_{BoostDur} = T_{mean}$\\
// {\em init optimal slow charge rate} \\
$P_{optimal}$ = 0.5\\
// {\em init reward value} \\
$R_{optimal} = 0$\\
\For{$(i \; in\; 1..n_{tries})$}{
// {\em compute random step in boost phase duration} \\
$\Delta X_i = T_{mean} \times rand(\Delta X_{min}, \Delta X_{max})$\\
// {\em compute new candidate value of boost phase duration} \\
$T_{maxboost} = min(T_{BoostDur} \pm \Delta X_i, T_{plugin})$\\
$T_{maxboost} = max(0, T_{maxboost})$\\
// {\em compute random step in slow charge rate coefficient} \\
$\Delta Y_i = rand(\Delta Y_{min}, \Delta Y_{max})$\\
// {\em compute new slow charge rate} \\
$P_{rate} = min(P_{optimal} \pm \Delta Y_i, 1.0)$\\
$P_{rate} = max(0, P_{rate})$\\
// {\em evaluate new candidate values } \\
($E_{loss}, P_{aggr}) = evaluateRLModel(data, T_{maxboost}, P_{rate}$)\\
// {\em compute the reward} \\
\If{$E_{loss} > E_{maxLoss}$} {$R = -\infty$;}
\Else {$R = -k_{1}E_{loss} + k_2/P_{aggr}$}
\If{$R > R_{optimal}$} {
$T_{BoostDur}$ = $T_{maxboost}$;\\
$P_{optimal} = P_{rate}$;\\
$R_{optimal} = R$;\\
}
}
$return(T_{BoostDur}, P_{optimal}$)
}
$\,$
\label{algo}
\caption{Adaptive charging algorithm pseudocode}
\end{algorithm}
\begin{algorithm}[]
\footnotesize
\DontPrintSemicolon
\SetKwFunction{FMain}{EvaluateRLModel}
\FMain{data, $T_{maxboost}$, $P_{rate}$}{
$P_{effective}$ = 0\\
\For{(i in 1:$n_{tries}$)}{
//{\em the actual amount of time in boost mode:}\\
$T_{boost,i} = min(E_{target}/P_{max}, T_{maxboost}$)\\
//{\em the amount energy dispensed in boost phase mode:}\\
$E_{boost,i} = min(T_{boost,i} P_{max}, E_i$)\\
//{\em the total amount of energy dispensed in adaptive mode:}\\
$E_{total,i} = P_{max} (T_{boost,i} + (T_{plugin} - T_{boost}) P_{rate})$\\
$E_{total,i} = min( E_{target}, E_{total,i})$\\
//{\em the amount of energy dispensed in slow charge mode:}\\
$E_{slow,i} = E_{total, i} - E_{boost, i}$\\
//{\em the duration of slow charge mode:}\\
$T_{slow,i} = E_{slow}/(P_{max}P_{rate})$\\
//{\em the effective charge rate:} \\
$P_{eff, i} = ( E_{Boost, i}+ P_{rate} (E_{Adap, i}-E_{Boost, i}))\frac{P_{max}}{E_i}$\\
}
//{\em the total energy deficit:}\\
$E_{loss} = \sum(E_{target,i} - E_{total, i})$\\
//{\em the aggregate historical charge rate under given policy:}\\
$P_{aggr} = \sum{(P_{eff, i} E_{total,i} )} / \sum{E_{total,i}}$\\
$return(E_{loss}, P_{aggr}$)
}
$\,$
\label{algo2}
\caption{Evaluate RL model pseudocode.}
\end{algorithm}
Algorithm \ref{algo} shows the steps to learn the optimal charging parameters $T_{BoostDur}$ and $P_{optimal}$.
At each iteration, LearnRLModel() function generates candidate values for charge session duration $T_{maxboost}$ and low-power charge rate coefficient $P_{rate}$, applies them retrospectively on past historical data using EvaluateRLModel() (Algorithm \ref{algo2}) to compute the reward $R$ which depends on total energy loss $E_{loss}$ and the aggregate charging rate $P_{aggr}$.
The candidate values that correspond to the highest value of the reward function are selected as optimal and are applied towards the next charging session.
Thus, the agent learns the parameters retrospectively, through trial and error using historical data.
The optimal policy search is accomplished using gradient descent with variable step size \cite{NoceWrig06}.
The experiments showed that the reward function is not concave, therefore variable step size allows to avoid getting stuck in a local minimum.
The number of steps $n_{tries}$ was selected as 200 and the initial value of parameter boost duration $T_{BoostDur, i}$ was initialized to an average session duration, which seemed to perform well in the experiments.
\section{Introduction}
\label{secIntro}
\input{intro.tex}
\section{Related work}
\label{secRelated}
\input{related.tex}
\section{Session Predictability}
\label{secPrediction}
\input{model.tex}
\section{Reinforcement learning based Adaptive charging}
\label{secAdaptive}
\input{learning.tex}
\section{Experimental Results and Discussion}
\subsection{EV chargepoint dataset}
\label{secDataset}
\input{dataset.tex}
\subsection{Results}
\label{secResults}
\input{results.tex}
\section{Conclusions and Future Work}
\label{secConclusion}
\input{conclusion.tex}
\bibliographystyle{IEEEtran}
\smaller
\subsection{Data-driven approaches}
The emergence of massive datasets has enabled data-driven approaches, which allow evaluating the system design directly on actual usage data \cite{zhang2018smartcharging}\cite{Fenner20peakshaving}\cite{Xydas2016datadriven}\cite{ali2020isgt}\cite{Buzna2019synergy}.
A large proportion of works using real datasets focused on characterisation of demand \cite{Xydas2016datadriven}, studying charging behavior \cite{Wolbertus2016mdpi}, prediction \cite{Pevec2018energyresearch} and other \cite{shipman2019energy}\cite{winsys17} aspects.
\subsubsection{Smart charging}
The availability of real charging session data has stimulated the development of novel smart charging approaches.
Zhang et al \cite{zhang2018smartcharging} designed a real-time algorithm for peak demand reductions at non-residential charging sites.
The approach achieves up to 80\% demand reduction, however, does not attempt to avoid a reduction in the quality of charging service.
Fenner et al \cite{Fenner20peakshaving} investigated the maximum possible peak demand reduction capacity and conducted a case study in Finland by applying various optimization strategies to real data from 25,000 charging sessions collected over 2 years from 8 charging sites, and show that the peak loads at charging sites can be reduced by up to 55\%.
However, the optimization strategy used in the study computes the peak load as a ratio of dispensed energy to plugin duration, which requires the knowledge of the latter and corresponds to the hypothetical scenario in the presented study.
\subsubsection{Charging behaviour analysis}
Xydas et al \cite{Xydas2016datadriven} develop a fuzzy-logic-based model to characterize EV charging demand depending on weather and trend.
The approach estimates the monthly growth rate of EV charging demand using linear regression and measures the correlation between weather attributes and the daily peak power of EVs charging in a geographical area.
The output is then used by fuzzy-logic-based module to establish the level of risk to grid operation using a dataset containing 21,918 EV charging events from 255 charging stations in the UK for evaluation.
Although the authors classify households with EVs based on their energy usage patterns, there is no attempt to predict the EV energy demand or availability at the individual charger level.
Wolbertus et al \cite{Wolbertus2016mdpi} study the charging infrastructure utilization in 5 cities in the Netherlands based on 1.6 million charge sessions from 5,600 charge points over two years.
The authors aim to identify different charge patterns and charge behavior depending on the area.
Hence the analysis is done on an aggregate rather than individual charger level.
Similarly, Buzna et al \cite{Buzna2019synergy} analyze the aggregate load from EV charge stations using machine learning and time-series analysis and evaluate the approach on EVnetNL dataset from the Netherlands, which contains over 32 million sessions from over 1,700 charge points.
Straka et al \cite{Straka2020access} developed a method for predicting the popularity of EV charging infrastructure using EVnetNL dataset in combination with GIS data.
The approach predicts whether a given charge spot belongs to a top tier using binary classification and logistic regression.
Finally, Pevec et al \cite{Pevec2018energyresearch} propose a methodology to combine multiple data sources, including places of interest near chargers, the driving distance between the chargers, and historical data about charging transactions to predict charging station utilization when the contextual data change or when there is a change in charging infrastructure.
\subsection{Charging Function}
A charging function $F(t)$ is defined here as the target power profile for a given charging session over its entire duration, such that the total area under the curve is equal to a target amount of dispensed energy $\int F(t) = E_i$.
In the simplest case, a charging function $F(t)$ will have a constant value to represent charging at a certain power rate, and the learning algorithm would try to find an optimal value of the rate.
In this study, a more complex charging strategy is considered, where a charging session consists of a boost charging phase at a maximum rate $P_{max}$ for a duration of $T_{boostDur}$ followed by low-power charging at a low power rate $P_{slow}$ for the rest of the session.
The strategy can also be useful in energy management in battery-assisted charging systems, which accumulate energy in between charging sessions and then use it to boost-charge the EV.
The selected charging function is defined by 2 parameters, $T_{boostDur}$ and a low power charge rate
$P_{slow} = P_{optimal}P_{max}$.
The parameters of $T_{BoostDur}$ and the coefficient $P_{optimal} \le 1$ are learned by an algorithm based on historical usage data and are updated dynamically after each charging event as described in the following subsection.
It should be noted that throughout the paper the terms 'low power' and 'slow' charging will be used interchangeably.
\subsection{Reward function}
The agent's reward is designed to decrease with either an energy loss $E_{loss}$ or the aggregate charging rate $P_{aggr}$ over previous sessions:
\begin{equation}
R =
\begin{cases}
-k_1 E_{loss} + k_2 /P_{aggr}, & if E_{loss} < E_{maxLoss}\\
-\infty, & if E_{loss} \ge E_{maxLoss}
\end{cases}
\end{equation}
To define a maximum acceptable energy loss, the reward function is set to negative infinity, if the energy loss exceeds a certain threshold, which in this study was selected as $E_{maxLoss}$ = 10$\,$kWh.
The parameters $k_1$ and $k_2$ are constants that define the relative weights of energy loss and charging rate respectively.
The optimal policy is such that minimizes the aggregate charging rate across all charging sessions in the past while ensuring that the energy loss is kept below a threshold.
An energy loss $E_{loss}$ is computed as a total sum of differences between the target $E_{target,i}$ and actually delivered energy amounts $E_{total, i}$ across all past sessions:
$E_{loss} = \sum_i^N(E_{target,i} - E_{total, i})$,
where $E_{target,i}$ represents the target amount of energy required to charge the vehicle in session $i$ and and is taken from the dataset.
The actual dispensed energy $E_{total, i}$ is always less than or equal than the target amount of energy, $E_{total, i} \leq E_{target,i}$ due to lower effective charging speed in adaptive mode.
The analysis shows that in the vast majority of domestic charging sessions the ratio of dispensed energy to plugin duration is lower than the maximum charging speed.
The second component of the reward function, the aggregate power rate $P_{aggr}$ for each charge station, is computed as a sum of effective charging session rates weighted by the corresponding amount of dispensed energy:
\begin{equation}
\footnotesize
P_{aggr} = \sum{(P_{eff_i} E_{total,i} )} / \sum{E_{total,i}}
\end{equation}
The session effective charging rate $P_{eff_i} $ is computed as the charging speed weighted by the amount of energy dispensed at that speed:
\begin{equation}
\footnotesize
P_{eff, i} = \frac{( E_{Boost, i}+ P_{rate} (E_{Adap, i}-E_{Boost, i}))} {E_{target, i}} P_{max}
\end{equation}
Where $E_{Boost, i}$ and $(E_{Adap, i} - E_{Boost, i})$ are the amounts of energy dispensed in boost and low-power (slow) charge modes respectively.
$P_{rate} \le 1$ is a candidate value of the slow charge rate coefficient, which is defined as the proportion of the maximum power rate, $P_{max}$.
Finally, $E_{Adap, i} \le E_{target}$ is the actual amount of energy delivered in adaptive mode respectively.
The session effective charging rate reduces with lower boost energy $ E_{Boost, i}$ and lower low-power charge rate $P_{rate}$, so the learning algorithm seeks to reduce those parameters as discussed in the next subsection.
\subsection{Training}
\begin{algorithm}[t]
\footnotesize
\DontPrintSemicolon
\SetKwFunction{FMain}{LearnRLModel}
\FMain{}{\\
// {\em init the optimal boost duration} \\
$T_{BoostDur} = T_{mean}$\\
// {\em init optimal slow charge rate} \\
$P_{optimal}$ = 0.5\\
// {\em init reward value} \\
$R_{optimal} = 0$\\
\For{$(i \; in\; 1..n_{tries})$}{
// {\em compute random step in boost phase duration} \\
$\Delta X_i = T_{mean} \times rand(\Delta X_{min}, \Delta X_{max})$\\
// {\em compute new candidate value of boost phase duration} \\
$T_{maxboost} = min(T_{BoostDur} \pm \Delta X_i, T_{plugin})$\\
$T_{maxboost} = max(0, T_{maxboost})$\\
// {\em compute random step in slow charge rate coefficient} \\
$\Delta Y_i = rand(\Delta Y_{min}, \Delta Y_{max})$\\
// {\em compute new slow charge rate} \\
$P_{rate} = min(P_{optimal} \pm \Delta Y_i, 1.0)$\\
$P_{rate} = max(0, P_{rate})$\\
// {\em evaluate new candidate values } \\
($E_{loss}, P_{aggr}) = evaluateRLModel(data, T_{maxboost}, P_{rate}$)\\
// {\em compute the reward} \\
\If{$E_{loss} > E_{maxLoss}$} {$R = -\infty$;}
\Else {$R = -k_{1}E_{loss} + k_2/P_{aggr}$}
\If{$R > R_{optimal}$} {
$T_{BoostDur}$ = $T_{maxboost}$;\\
$P_{optimal} = P_{rate}$;\\
$R_{optimal} = R$;\\
}
}
$return(T_{BoostDur}, P_{optimal}$)
}
$\,$
\label{algo}
\caption{Adaptive charging algorithm pseudocode}
\end{algorithm}
\begin{algorithm}[]
\footnotesize
\DontPrintSemicolon
\SetKwFunction{FMain}{EvaluateRLModel}
\FMain{data, $T_{maxboost}$, $P_{rate}$}{
$P_{effective}$ = 0\\
\For{(i in 1:$n_{tries}$)}{
//{\em the actual amount of time in boost mode:}\\
$T_{boost,i} = min(E_{target}/P_{max}, T_{maxboost}$)\\
//{\em the amount energy dispensed in boost phase mode:}\\
$E_{boost,i} = min(T_{boost,i} P_{max}, E_i$)\\
//{\em the total amount of energy dispensed in adaptive mode:}\\
$E_{total,i} = P_{max} (T_{boost,i} + (T_{plugin} - T_{boost}) P_{rate})$\\
$E_{total,i} = min( E_{target}, E_{total,i})$\\
//{\em the amount of energy dispensed in slow charge mode:}\\
$E_{slow,i} = E_{total, i} - E_{boost, i}$\\
//{\em the duration of slow charge mode:}\\
$T_{slow,i} = E_{slow}/(P_{max}P_{rate})$\\
//{\em the effective charge rate:} \\
$P_{eff, i} = ( E_{Boost, i}+ P_{rate} (E_{Adap, i}-E_{Boost, i}))\frac{P_{max}}{E_i}$\\
}
//{\em the total energy deficit:}\\
$E_{loss} = \sum(E_{target,i} - E_{total, i})$\\
//{\em the aggregate historical charge rate under given policy:}\\
$P_{aggr} = \sum{(P_{eff, i} E_{total,i} )} / \sum{E_{total,i}}$\\
$return(E_{loss}, P_{aggr}$)
}
$\,$
\label{algo2}
\caption{Evaluate RL model pseudocode.}
\end{algorithm}
Algorithm \ref{algo} shows the steps to learn the optimal charging parameters $T_{BoostDur}$ and $P_{optimal}$.
At each iteration, LearnRLModel() function generates candidate values for charge session duration $T_{maxboost}$ and low-power charge rate coefficient $P_{rate}$, applies them retrospectively on past historical data using EvaluateRLModel() (Algorithm \ref{algo2}) to compute the reward $R$ which depends on total energy loss $E_{loss}$ and the aggregate charging rate $P_{aggr}$.
The candidate values that correspond to the highest value of the reward function are selected as optimal and are applied towards the next charging session.
Thus, the agent learns the parameters retrospectively, through trial and error using historical data.
The optimal policy search is accomplished using gradient descent with variable step size \cite{NoceWrig06}.
The experiments showed that the reward function is not concave, therefore variable step size allows to avoid getting stuck in a local minimum.
The number of steps $n_{tries}$ was selected as 200 and the initial value of parameter boost duration $T_{BoostDur, i}$ was initialized to an average session duration, which seemed to perform well in the experiments.
\subsection{Data model}
\label{secTechnology}
This section analyses the predictability of plugin session duration based on the history of past plugin sessions and shows the overall prediction accuracy together with the impact of each feature on the overall prediction accuracy.
The motivation for predicting the plugin session duration is that it can be used by the EV charger to evenly spread the required energy to reduce the peak demand.
The following features were extracted from the dataset to predict the current charging session duration:
session start hour, day of the week, time duration since the last charging session, and the amount of dispensed energy.
Although the dataset shows the amount of dispensed energy for each session, it does not indicate whether the EV was fully charged or whether it was just a top-up.
In the former case, the amount of dispensed energy can be assumed to be known at the start of the charging session.
In the latter, i.e. a top-up session, the amount of dispensed energy becomes known at the end of the charging session for which the duration needs to be predicted.
To account for both cases, the regression performance was conducted with and without this feature.
\subsection{Linear regression}
Linear regression models a continuous variable $y_j$ as a linear combination of independent variables $X$.
The advantage of regression analysis methods is that they are computationally efficient and are simple to understand.
\begin{equation}
y_j = \beta_0 + \sum_{i=1}^t\beta_i x_i + \epsilon_j
\end{equation}
Where $\beta_0$ is an intercept, $\beta_i$ is a slope, $t$ is the number of observations, $\epsilon_j$ is an error term, the part of the model that cannot explain the linear relationship.
The regressor weights are obtained during the training phase as the ratio of covariance between $x_i$ and $x_j$ and the variance of $x_i$:
\begin{equation}
\beta_i = \frac{cov(x_i, x_j)}{var(x_i)}
\end{equation}
\subsection{Performance Metrics}
The regression performance has been evaluated with mean absolute error (MAE), mean absolute percentage error (MAPE) and mean square error (MSE) metrics defined as shown below for reference.
\begin{equation}
\footnotesize
MAE = \sum_{n=1}^N\frac{|predicted - actual |}{N}
\end{equation}
\begin{equation}
\footnotesize
MAPE = \sum_{n=1}^N\frac{|predicted - actual |}{actual}\times \frac{100\%}{N}
\end{equation}
\begin{equation}
\footnotesize
MSE = \sum_{n=1}^N\frac{(predicted - actual)^2}{N}
\end{equation}
\subsection{Prediction accuracy}
\begin{table}[h!]
\smaller
\centering
\caption{Predicting session duration. }
\begin{tabular}{||c c c||}
\hline
MAE & MAPE & MSE \\ [0.5ex]
\hline\hline
14.04 & 413.93 & 11517.59 \\
\hline
\end{tabular}
\label{table:1}
\end{table}
The prediction accuracy was evaluated on each charge point using 4-fold cross-validation, separately for each charge point with the total prediction accuracy computed as an average for all charge points.
The data analysis has been performed using $R$ statistical package \cite{R}.
The overall prediction accuracy is 14.04 MAE and 413.93 MAPE.
Upon close inspection, the high MAPE values are contributed by a number of sessions, where the session duration was significantly overestimated.
While underestimating session duration is not critical and may result in supplying the target energy while reducing the load, overestimating the session duration is obviously detrimental to any predictive charging strategy.
This is because attempting to spread energy for a longer time than the actual session duration will result in missing the energy target.
The reason for low predictability is not in the limitations of the selected method, as similar results have been obtained using a variety of other techniques including deep neural network algorithms.
The latter required an immensely higher amount of computational power but resulted in only a modest improvement in accuracy.
The key reason is that the session duration is tightly related to human behavior, which is inherently hard to predict.
A weather condition, a traffic jam, or a road accident, personal plans are as likely to affect a session duration as the past history of charging sessions.
Possibly, enriching the data set with additional sensor data, such as weather, traffic conditions, or home occupancy sensors may improve the prediction accuracy.
However, the conclusion from the experiments in this study is that given the history of plugin sessions alone, prediction accuracy is too low for adaptive charging purpose.
\subsection{Data-driven approaches}
The emergence of massive datasets has enabled data-driven approaches, which allow evaluating the system design directly on actual usage data \cite{zhang2018smartcharging}\cite{Fenner20peakshaving}\cite{Xydas2016datadriven}\cite{ali2020isgt}\cite{Buzna2019synergy}.
A large proportion of works using real datasets focused on characterisation of demand \cite{Xydas2016datadriven}, studying charging behavior \cite{Wolbertus2016mdpi}, prediction \cite{Pevec2018energyresearch} and other \cite{shipman2019energy}\cite{winsys17} aspects.
\subsubsection{Smart charging}
The availability of real charging session data has stimulated the development of novel smart charging approaches.
Zhang et al \cite{zhang2018smartcharging} designed a real-time algorithm for peak demand reductions at non-residential charging sites.
The approach achieves up to 80\% demand reduction, however, does not attempt to avoid a reduction in the quality of charging service.
Fenner et al \cite{Fenner20peakshaving} investigated the maximum possible peak demand reduction capacity and conducted a case study in Finland by applying various optimization strategies to real data from 25,000 charging sessions collected over 2 years from 8 charging sites, and show that the peak loads at charging sites can be reduced by up to 55\%.
However, the optimization strategy used in the study computes the peak load as a ratio of dispensed energy to plugin duration, which requires the knowledge of the latter and corresponds to the hypothetical scenario in the presented study.
\subsubsection{Charging behaviour analysis}
Xydas et al \cite{Xydas2016datadriven} develop a fuzzy-logic-based model to characterize EV charging demand depending on weather and trend.
The approach estimates the monthly growth rate of EV charging demand using linear regression and measures the correlation between weather attributes and the daily peak power of EVs charging in a geographical area.
The output is then used by fuzzy-logic-based module to establish the level of risk to grid operation using a dataset containing 21,918 EV charging events from 255 charging stations in the UK for evaluation.
Although the authors classify households with EVs based on their energy usage patterns, there is no attempt to predict the EV energy demand or availability at the individual charger level.
Wolbertus et al \cite{Wolbertus2016mdpi} study the charging infrastructure utilization in 5 cities in the Netherlands based on 1.6 million charge sessions from 5,600 charge points over two years.
The authors aim to identify different charge patterns and charge behavior depending on the area.
Hence the analysis is done on an aggregate rather than individual charger level.
Similarly, Buzna et al \cite{Buzna2019synergy} analyze the aggregate load from EV charge stations using machine learning and time-series analysis and evaluate the approach on EVnetNL dataset from the Netherlands, which contains over 32 million sessions from over 1,700 charge points.
Straka et al \cite{Straka2020access} developed a method for predicting the popularity of EV charging infrastructure using EVnetNL dataset in combination with GIS data.
The approach predicts whether a given charge spot belongs to a top tier using binary classification and logistic regression.
Finally, Pevec et al \cite{Pevec2018energyresearch} propose a methodology to combine multiple data sources, including places of interest near chargers, the driving distance between the chargers, and historical data about charging transactions to predict charging station utilization when the contextual data change or when there is a change in charging infrastructure.
\subsection{The impact of history size}
Figure \ref{fig:energyProfile22k} shows the aggregate energy profiles for different history sizes, as well as a comparison with those of raw and hypothetical charging.
As can be seen, the RL-based strategy reduces the peak by flattening the load and increasing the consumption during the nighttime.
The performance of the reinforcement-learning based strategy depends significantly on the history size.
Shorter history sizes reduce the peak power usage more aggressively but also result in higher energy deficits.
For a history size of 30, the peak power usage reduces by as much as 31\% in the evening period compared to raw charging.
As a comparison, a recent case study in Finland based on real data from 25,000 charging sessions collected over 2 years from 8 charging sites shows that the peak loads at charging sites can be reduced by up to 55\% \cite{Fenner20peakshaving}.
However, the optimization strategy used in the study computes the peak load as a ratio of dispensed energy to plugin duration, which requires the knowledge of the latter and corresponds to the hypothetical scenario in the presented study.
\cite{zhang2018smartcharging} shows up to 80\% of peak reductions, however, it does not attempt to reduce the quality of charging service.
\begin{figure}[t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=9cm]{figs/showEnergyProfileTop22k.pdf}
\caption{Adaptive learning performance aggregated across all charge stations. The RL-based strategy with the history size of 30 results in 31\% peak reduction. }
\label{fig:energyProfile22k}
\end{figure}
The adaptive strategy may result in some energy deficit due to lower charging speeds in the slow charging phase.
The total energy deficit was 276,227\, kWh or just 5.0\% of total dispensed energy.
Further analysis shows that 16\% of charge points have an energy deficit above 10\% of the total dispensed energy in that charge station.
As history gets longer, the algorithm becomes more conservative as it evaluates the charging parameters over a wider range of drivers' behavior.
For a history size of 60, the aggregate peak power reduces to 21\% with the total energy deficit reduced to 2.8\% or 159,934 kWh.
The percentage of charge points with an energy deficit above 10\% is 8.9\%.
Finally, for unlimited history size, the aggregate peak power reduced by 12.3\% with a total energy deficit of only 1.4\% or 78,882\,kW.
The percentage of charge points with an energy deficit above 10\% reduces to 7.2\%.
Figures \ref{fig:4plots}a-b show the distributions of total dispensed energy and maximum power rates for each charge station.
Figure \ref{fig:4plots}c shows that a vast majority of sessions result in a very small energy loss relative to the total energy dispensed by the relative charge station.
It can also be seen that a significant proportion of sessions charge at a rate much lower than the maximum power rate with a peak at 80\%, Figure \ref{fig:4plots}d.
Figure \ref{fig:speedDistribution} compares charging speeds for raw and RL-based charging.
It can be seen that the adaptive charging strategy results in significantly lower charging speeds.
The reduction in peak power usage in all reinforcement learning algorithm configurations is lower than approximately 50\% reduction provided by the hypothetical strategy, Figure \ref{fig:energyProfile22k} (green line).
However, it is important to note that the adaptive algorithm does not require actual knowledge of the session duration as it directly controls the charging parameters that maximize the reward.
\begin{figure}[t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=8cm]{figs/4plot.pdf}
\caption{a) The distribution of target dispensed energy. b) The distribution of charge station max rates. c) The distribution of energy loss. d) The distribution of boost phase duration relative to raw charge duration. }
\label{fig:4plots}
\end{figure}
\begin{figure}[t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=9cm]{figs/showSpeedDistribution.pdf}
\caption{Comparison of charging speeds for raw and RL-based charging. The latter charging strategy results in significantly lower charging speeds. }
\label{fig:speedDistribution}
\end{figure}
\subsection{The impact on charging duration}
\begin{figure}[t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=9cm]{figs/showOnlineEffSpeed.pdf}
\caption{Effective speed distribution for CP AN15123. The mean and median session power rates are 37.8\% and 28.3\% of charge point capacity respectively.}
\label{fig:onlineLearningEffSpeed}
\end{figure}
\begin{figure}[t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=9cm]{figs/showOnlineBoostDur.pdf}
\caption{The distribution of boost phase and slow charge durations for CP AN15123. The boost phase (left axis) is typically much shorter than a slow phase duration (right axis). A large number of sessions have a boost duration of 0.01 hours.
}
\label{fig:onlineLearningBoostDur}
\end{figure}
\begin{table}[b]
\smaller
\setlength{\tabcolsep}{3pt}
\centering
\caption{Boost and slow charge phase durations}
\begin{tabular}{ | c | c | c | c | c | c | c |}
\hline
\multicolumn{2}{|c|}{RL30} & \multicolumn{2}{c|}{RL60} & \multicolumn{2}{c|}{RL-ALL} & \multicolumn{1}{c|}{Raw} \\
\hline
BoostDur & SlowDur & BoostDur & SlowDur & BoostDur & SlowDur & EffectiveDur\\
\hline
0.30 & 3.47 & 0.40 & 2.92 & 0.49 & 2.55 & 1.82 \\
\hline
\end{tabular}
\label{tab:BoostDur}
\end{table}
\begin{figure}[t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=9cm]{figs/showOnlineAN15123.pdf}
\caption{Online learning performance for CP AN15123. History size = 60. Reinforcement based strategy effectively shaves the peaks spreading the load in time. }
\label{fig:onlineLearningProfile}
\end{figure}
The boost phase duration reduces the risk of undercharging as it charges the vehicle at the maximum power rate.
In the case of battery-assisted charge stations, where a large capacity battery is used to accumulate energy in between charging sessions to boost charge the EV, the knowledge of boost charge duration can also be useful to estimate the required charge point battery capacity or required charge level.
Table \ref{tab:BoostDur} compares the boost and slow charge phase durations for all three strategies.
In all cases, the boost phase duration is much shorter than an average effective charging rate of 1.82 under raw charging.
The latter is computed as the ratio of dispensed energy by the point power rate event and averaged across all sessions in all charge stations.
It can be seen that as the history sizes increases, the algorithm gets more conservative and allocates more time for boost charging.
\subsection{Online learning case study}
This section describes an evaluation of the approach in an online learning mode, where the agent optimizes charging parameters after each charging session, similar to how it would operate in a real deployment.
The performance is illustrated on a charge point AN15123, selected because it was the busiest charge point in the dataset with a charging rate above 7\,kW.
The charge point has a maximum charging rate of 54\,kW, and contained 1031 sessions.
Figures \ref{fig:onlineLearningEffSpeed}, \ref{fig:onlineLearningBoostDur}, \ref{fig:onlineLearningProfile} show the performance of the adaptive approach on one specific charge point selected arbitrarily.
The learning starts after the first 100 sessions, which represents 10\% of all charging sessions for all sessions for this charge point.
Figure \ref{fig:onlineLearningEffSpeed} shows the effective speed for the proposed strategy.
The median and mean effective speed ranges are only 0.28 and 0.37 of the maximum charging speed respectively.
The total energy deficit for the adaptive strategy was just 54\,kWh, which represents 1.3\% of all the energy dispensed by the charge point.
The algorithm effectively tracks user behavior and adapts the charging parameters accordingly.
Figure \ref{fig:onlineLearningBoostDur} compares the boost and slow phase durations for all sessions.
It can be seen that boost phase duration is typically small and below 0.12 hours, whereas slow charge durations can last up to 8.65 hours.
The mean effective charging speed, boost, and slow phases are 18.29\,kW, 0.02 hours and 1.19 hours respectively.
Figure \ref{fig:onlineLearningProfile} compares the overall energy profiles for raw, adaptive, and ideal charging strategies.
The raw charging results in sharp peaks in power consumption with the highest peak at around 6-9\,pm.
The adaptive charging strategy visibly reduces the peaks spreading the load in time.
The hypothetical strategy results in the highest peak reduction as it spreads the power evenly throughout each session.
However, it should be noted that it requires a perfect knowledge of plugin session duration, which is difficult to predict in practice, as was shown in the previous section.
\subsection{Discussion}
The study focuses on the maximum potential for reducing peak charging demand for individual charging stations using local historical information only.
The algorithm requires storing the past charging session history in its memory.
Since each session requires the storage of 3 values (start timestamp, end timestamp, dispensed energy).
Assuming 4 bytes for the first two and 2 bytes each for the latter, the annual data requirement will be approximately 3,650 bytes if the charging happens once a day.
The busiest domestic charge point in the dataset contained 1,381 sessions, which can be stored in just 13,810 bytes.
The algorithm should be suitable for implementation in an embedded platform and does not have significant computational overhead.
In this study, the proposed charging profile is similar to a step function, consisting of discrete high and low-speed phases.
The learning algorithm searches for the parameters of step height and step duration.
However, it may be possible to define a more general charging profile that takes into account battery characteristics, health, and other factors.
The more general approach would need to optimize the parameters of this function.
Investigating these ideas is a potential future work.
This research focuses on domestic charging, where there is a significant potential for energy coordination.
Public charge points as data indicates are characterized by frequent and short sessions, which are likely made at high speed.
The algorithm requires the knowledge of the maximum charging rate $P_{max}$, which is limited by both EV and charge point capabilities.
In the experiments, the value of $P_{max}$ was selected as the charger point's maximum charging power throughout the entire year.
This assumes that each household has a single electric vehicle, which should be a reasonable assumption considering today's price of EVs.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaArXiv"
}
| 1,737
|
\section{}和\subsection{}等, 不能用\chapter{}. 可换成book, report等其他模式.
\usepackage{mathrsfs}
\usepackage[leqno]{amsmath
\usepackage{amsthm}
\usepackage{amssymb}
\usepackage[all]{xy
\usepackage[colorlinks,linkcolor=black,citecolor=green,urlcolor=red]{hyperref
\usepackage[margin=10pt,font=small,textfont=sl,labelfont=bf]{caption
\newtheoremstyle{mythm}{2ex plus 1ex minus .2ex}{2ex plus 1ex minus .2ex} {\itshape}{}{\bfseries}{.}{0.7em}{}
\theoremstyle{mythm}
\newtheorem{prop}{Proposition}[section]
\newtheorem{thm}[prop]{Theorem}
\newtheorem{lem}[prop]{Lemma}
\newtheorem{claimm}[prop]{claim}
\newtheorem{cor}[prop]{Corollary}
\newtheoremstyle{mythm1}{2ex plus 1ex minus .2ex}{2ex plus 1ex minus .2ex} {\normalfont}{}{\bfseries}{.}{1em}{}
\theoremstyle{mythm1}
\newtheorem*{eg}{Example}
\newtheorem*{rk}{Remark}
\newtheoremstyle{mythm2}{1.5ex plus 1ex minus .2ex}{1.5ex plus 1ex minus .2ex} {\normalfont}{\parindent}{\bfseries}{}{1em}{}
\theoremstyle{mythm2}
\newtheorem*{abs}{\textbf{Abstract}}
\usepackage[b5paper,text={125mm,195mm},centering]{geometry
\numberwithin{equation}{section
\begin{document}
\title{\textbf{Central Limit Theorems in Deterministic Systems}
\author{Yuwen Wang, Fudan University
\date{
\maketitl
\begin{abs}
This is a note on some results of the central
limit theorem for deterministic dynamical
systems. First, we give the central
limit theorem for martingales, which is a main tool. Then we give the main results on
the central limit theorem in dynamic system in the cases of
martingale and backward martingale.\\
\textbf{Keywords: Martingale,
Central Limit Theorem,
Dynamic System}
\end{abs}
\section{Introduction
I learned the central limit theorem in dynamic systems under
the guidance of Teacher Xie Jiansheng. This is a note taking down
the main theorems and conclusions in the literature
I studied. These results come from \cite {1}, \cite {2},
\cite {3}, \cite {7} in the references. In order to make
it easy for readers to understand, I may revise the original
literature proof, and I will also use the results in books
\cite {4}, \cite {5}, \cite {6} to support the
corresponding proof.
Without specification, the proof of the results in
this paper is always based on the following assumption:
there is a probability space
$(\Omega, \mathcal{F}, P)$ and a measure preserving mapping of
$T:\Omega\rightarrow\Omega$, i.e. for $\displaystyle
A\in \mathcal{F}$, then $P(A)=P(T^{-1}(A))$. It is also
assumed that if $A\in\mathcal{F}$, then
$T(A)\in \mathcal{F}$, and the measure preserving system
$(P,T)$ are ergodic. Suppose $X$ is a measurable
function on $\Omega$, denote $U:X\mapsto U(X)=X\circ T$.
Under these assumptions, for the measurable function $f$
on $\Omega$ which satisfies some conditions,
we expect the following to be true:
\begin{equation*}
\frac{1}{\sqrt{n}}\sum_ {i=0}^{n-1} U^if\rightarrow N (0, \sigma^2)
\end{equation*}
To attain this goal, we will use method of martingale approximation.
Set $\mathcal{F}_ 0\subset \mathcal{F}$ is a sub $\sigma$
algebra, and $\mathcal{F}_ k=T^{-k}\mathcal{F}_ 0, k\in \mathbb{Z}$,
then there are two general cases at this time
\begin{equation}\label{jiashe}
\begin{aligned}
(1) &\dots\supset\mathcal{F}_ {-1}\supset\mathcal{F}_ 0\supset\mathcal{F}_ 1\supset\dots\\
(2) &\dots\subset\mathcal{F}_ {-1}\subset\mathcal{F}_ 0\subset\mathcal{F}_ 1\subset\dots
\end{aligned}
\end{equation}
In fact, (1) and (2) correspond respectively to
inverted martingales and martingales.
Section 2 will describe the central limit theorem of
martingales. Results of inverted martingales and martingale
are given respectively in section 3 and section 4.
\begin{rk}\label{zhu1}
\begin{enumerate}
\item Under the above assumptions, if $U$ is considered an
operator of $L^2 (\Omega)\rightarrow L^2 (\Omega)$,then
$U^*U=I$; further if $T$ is injective, then $U$ is the unitary
operator of $L^2 (\Omega)\rightarrow L^2 (\Omega)$
In fact, since $T$ is measure preserving, $\forall X, Y\in L^2(\Omega)$
\begin{equation*}
\int_ {\Omega} (X\circ T) (Y\circ T) dP=\int_ {\Omega} XY dP
\end{equation*}
Thus $U^*U=I$.
\quad If $T$ is injective, from $P(T(\Omega))=P(\Omega)$,
for almost every $\omega$, we can define
$T^{-1}(\omega)$. So for $X\in L^2(\Omega)$,
we can define $X\circ T^{-1}(\omega)$,
For any $Y\in L^2 (\Omega)$,
\begin{equation*}
\int_ {\Omega} (X\circ T) Y dP=\int_ {\Omega} X (Y\circ T^{-1}) dP
\end{equation*}
From above formula, we see
$U^*(Y)=Y\circ T^{-1}=U^{-1}(Y)$, that is, $U^*=U^{-1}$,
that is, $U$ is a unitary operator.
\quad Literature \cite{1}\cite{2}\cite{3} do not
emphasize the relationship between the
properties of $T$ (such as injective) and $U$ (such
as whether it is a unitary transformation). But
they add some similar conditions, for example
in Theorem 1 of \cite{1}
(i.e. Theorem\ref*{th1} of this paper),
suppose $E (UU^*\phi|\mathcal{F}_1) = E(\phi|\mathcal{F}_1)$.
In addition, literature \cite{2} suppose $T$ is sujective in the
whole text. These conditions are a bit weird at first,
but as discussed above, they are reasonable. In contrast,
there are no assumptions about $T$ in literature \cite{7},
pointing out directly $U$ it is a unitary transformation.
\item Next, what we need to explain is the relationship
between the sequence ${U^if}$ in the introduction and
the stationary, ergodic sequence: If $Y_i=U^if$,
then the sequence $\{Y_i, i=1\dots\}$ is stationary
ergodic sequence. Conversely, given a sequence of
stationary random sequences $\{Y_n, i=1,2, \dots\}$,
when state space $S$ is good, we can set a probability
measure $P$ on $S^{N}$ so that the random process
$\{X_n(\omega)=\omega_ N, n=1,2, \dots\}$ has the same
distribution as $\{Y_n\}$. For a specific discussion please
see \cite{6} example 6.1.4
\end{enumerate}
\end{rk}
\newpage
\section{Central Limit Theorem of Martingale}
The core method of all literatures reviewed
is to approximate the sequence ${U^if}$ with
martingale difference (or backward martingale
difference). The central limit theorem of
martingale is introduced below, which is also
the basis of other results.
\begin{thm}[\cite{4}]
\textbf{(Martingale's Central Limit Theorem)}\label{lemma1}
\footnote{Here Thanks Carlanelo
Liverani at University of Rome "Tor Vergata"
Life for helping me find this proof.}
Let $Y_i$ be a sequence of stationary, ergodic,
martingale difference with second-order moments,
the central limit theorem holds, that is,
\begin{equation*}
\frac{1} {\sqrt{n}}\sum_ {i=0}^{n-1} Y_i\rightarrow N (0, \sigma^2)
\end{equation*}
Here $\sigma^2=Var(Y_i).$
\begin{proof}
First, we define
\begin{equation*}
\begin{split}
&\psi(n,j,t)=exp[\frac{\sigma^2t^2j}{2n}]E\{exp[it\frac{Y_i+\cdots+Y_j}{\sqrt{n}}]\}\\
&S_n=Y_1+\cdots+Y_n\\
&\theta(n,j,t)=exp[\frac{\sigma^2t^2j}{2n}]E\{exp[it\frac{S_{j-1}}{\sqrt{n}}]
[\frac{(\sigma^2-Y_j^2)t^2}{2n}]\}\\
&\theta_k(n,j,t)=exp[\frac{\sigma^2t^2kr}{2n}]E\{exp[it\frac{S_{kr}}{\sqrt{n}}][\frac{(\sigma^2-Y_j^2)t^2}{2n}]\},\quad kr+1\le j\le k(r+1),
\end{split}
\end{equation*}
Here $k$ is an integer.
To prove the theorem, according to the continuity
theorem of characteristic function, it suffices
to show that for fixed t when $n \rightarrow \infty$,
we have
\begin{equation*}
\psi(n,n,t)-1\rightarrow 0
\end{equation*}
Also notes that
\begin{equation*}
\begin{aligned}
|\psi(n,n,t&)-1|=|\sum_ {j=1}^{n}
[\psi(n,j,t)-\psi(n,j-1,t)]|\\&
\le |\sum_ {j=1}^{n}[\psi(n,j,t)-\psi(n,j-1,t)]-
\theta(n,j,t)|+|\sum_ {j=1}^{n}\theta(n,j,t)-
\theta_ k(n,j,t)|\\&+|\sum_ {j=1}^{n}\theta_ k(n,j,t)|
\end{aligned}
\end{equation*}
Next let's estimate the last three
terms in turn, first of all, for $|t|<T$, we have
\begin{equation}\label{psi-sta}
\begin{aligned}
|[\psi&(n,j,t)-\psi(n,j-1,t)]-\theta(n,j,t)|\\ &=exp[\frac{\sigma^2t^2j}{2n}]
E\{exp[it\frac{S_{j-1}}{\sqrt{n}}]\{[exp(it\frac{Y_j}{\sqrt{n}})-1-it\frac{Y_j}{\sqrt{n}}+\frac{Y_j^2t^2}{2n}]-
[exp(-\frac{\sigma^2t^2}{2n})-1+\frac{t^2\sigma^2}{2n}]\}\}\\&
\le C(T)E\{|[exp(it\frac{Y_j}{\sqrt{n}})-1-it\frac{Y_j}{\sqrt{n}}+\frac{Y_j^2t^2}{2n}]|\}+C(T)|exp(-\frac{\sigma^2t^2}{2n})-1+\frac{t^2\sigma^2}{2n}|
\end{aligned}
\end{equation}
The first equation uses the properties of martingales:
\begin{equation*}
E\{exp[it\frac{S_{j-1}}{\sqrt{n}}]\xi_ j\}=E(E(exp[it\frac{S_{j-1}}{\sqrt{n}}]\xi_j|S_{j-1}))
=E(exp[it\frac{S_{j-1}}{\sqrt{n}}]E(\xi_j|S_{j-1}))=0
\end{equation*}
$C(T)$ is a constant that only relates to $T$.
From the formula (\ref{psi-sta})
\begin{equation*}
\sup_{|t|\le T} \sum_ {j=1}^{n}|[\psi(n,j,t)-\psi(n,j-1,t)]-\theta(n,j,t)|=no(\frac{1}{n})
\rightarrow 0
\end{equation*}
Secondly we estimate
$\sum_ {j=1}^{n}|\theta(n,j,t)-\theta_k (n, j, t)|$,
select an integer $k$, large and fixed.
Divide $[1, n]$ into blocks of length k
in turn. There may be incomplete blocks
at the end.
\begin{equation}\label{stak-sta}
\begin{aligned}
\sum_ {j=1}^{n}|\theta_ k(n,j,t)-\theta(n,j,t)|&\le
n\sup_ {1\le j\le n} |\theta_ k(n,j,t)-\theta(n,j,t)|\\ & \le C(T)
\sup_ {1\le j\le k} E\{|exp[\frac{\sigma^2t^2j}{2n}]exp[it\frac{S_{j-1}}{\sqrt{n}}]-1||\sigma^2-Y_ j^2|\}
\end{aligned}
\end{equation}
According to the control convergence theorem, for
each $k$, when $n \rightarrow \infty$, the above
equation tends to 0.
At last we estimate $\sum_ {j=1}^{n}
\theta_k(n, j, t) $, by the stationarity of
$Y_i$ and $r \le \frac{n}{k}$, we know
\begin{equation*}
\sum_ {j=kr+1}^{k(r+1)} |\theta_ k(n,j,t)|\le \frac{C(T)}{n} E\{|\sum_{j=kr+1}^{k(r+1)} (\sigma^2-Y_j^2)|\}=C(T)\frac{k}{n}\delta(k)
\end{equation*}
According to Birkhoff's Ergodic Theorem,
when $k \rightarrow \infty$, $\delta(k)
\rightarrow 0$,
Since the upper estimate holds for all r, and there
are at most $ \frac{n}{k} $ blocks, thus we get
\begin{equation*}
\sum_ {j=1}^{n}|\theta_ k(n,j,t)|\le C(T)\delta(k)
\end{equation*}
combining with the formula (\ref{stak-sta}), we have
\begin{equation*}
\begin{aligned}
|\sum_ {j=1}^{n}\theta(n,j,t)|&\le |\sum_ {j=1}^{n}\theta_ k(n,j,t)|+\sum_ {j=1}^{n}|\theta_ k(n,j,t)-\theta(n,j,t)|
\\& \le C(T)\delta(k)+C(T)\sup_ {1\le j\le k} E\{|exp[\frac{\sigma^2t^2j}{2n}]exp[it\frac{S_{j-1}}{\sqrt{n}}]-1||\sigma^2-Y_ j^2|\}
\end{aligned}
\end{equation*}
Let $n \rightarrow \infty $, then let $k
\rightarrow \infty$, we get $ lim_{n\rightarrow \infty}|\sum_ {j=1}^{n}\theta(n,j,t)|\rightarrow 0$
Combining with formula (\ref{psi-sta}), we get
\begin{equation*}
|\sum_ {j=1}^{n}\psi(n,j,t)-\psi(n,j-1,t)|\le |[\psi(n,j,t)-\psi(n,j-1,t)]-\theta(n,j,t)|
+|\sum_ {j=1}^{n}\theta(n,j,t)|\rightarrow 0
\end{equation*}
\end{proof}
\end{thm}
\section{Backward martingale difference approximation}
Using the martingale central limit theorem
in the previous section,
the first main result is proved in this section.
The result is first proved in \cite{1}
\begin{thm}[\cite{1}]\label{th1}
Consider a probability space $(\Omega, \mathcal{F},P)$
and a measure preserving mapping $ T:\Omega \rightarrow
\Omega$. we assume that if $A\in \mathcal{F}$,
then $T(A)\in \mathcal{F}$, and the measure preserving
system $(P, T)$ is ergodic. we denote $\mathcal{F}_ 0$
a sub $\sigma$ algebra of $\mathcal{F}$ and define
$\mathcal{F}_ i=T^{-i}\mathcal{F}_ 0, i\in\mathbb {Z}$,
and $ \dots \supset \mathcal {F}_ {-1}\supset
\mathcal{F}_ 0\supset\mathcal{F}_ 1\supset\dots$ and
for $ \phi \in L^{\infty}(\Omega) $, we have
\begin{equation}\label{con}
E(UU^*\phi|\mathcal{F}_1)=E(\phi|\mathcal{F}_1)
\end{equation}
Then for each $f \in L^{\infty}(\Omega)$ which satisfies:\\
(1)$E(f)=0, E(f|\mathcal{F}_0)=f$,\\
(2)$\sum_ {n=0}^{\infty}|E(fU^n f)|< \infty$,\\
(3)$\sum_ {n=0} ^ {\infty} E (U^{*n} f |\mathcal{F}_0)$ converges almost everywhere,
\\Then the central limit theorem is valid, that is,
\begin{equation*}
\frac{1}{\sqrt{n}} \sum_ {i=0}^{n}U^i f\rightarrow N(0,\sigma^2)
\end{equation*}
Here $\sigma$ satisfies $\sigma ^2 \le -
E(f^2)+2\sum_ {n=0}^{\infty}|E(fU^n f)|$.
Further, $\sigma=0 $ if and only if there exists
a $\mathcal{F}_0$ measurable function $g$, such that
\begin{equation*}
Uf=Ug-g
\end{equation*}
Finally, if condition (2) converges in the sense of $L^1$
, then $\sigma ^ 2=- E(f^2)+2\sum_{n=0}^{\infty}E(fU^nf).$
\begin{rk}
Due to the remark 1 of the section 1, $U ^ * U=I$
is always valid. Note that this theorem does not
assume that $T$ is injective, $U$ is not
necessarily a unitary transformation,
so the condition ( \ref*{con}) is
to ensure that $UU^*=I $ to some extent
\end{rk}
Before formally proving the theorem, we first prove three lemmas
\begin{lem}\label{lem2}
Set a family of $\sigma$ fields $\mathcal
{F}_ 0\supset\mathcal{F}_ 1 \supset \dots $
and a family of random variables $Y_ i, i=1,2 \dotsc $
satisfies that $Y_i ,i \ge 1$ is $F_ {i-1}$measurable,
and
\begin{equation*}
\begin{aligned}
E(Y_i|\mathcal{F}_i)=0,i\ge 0
\end{aligned}
\end{equation*}
Assume also $\sum_ {i=0}^{\infty} Y_i $ converges
everywhere, then $Y_i$ is backward martingale difference
\begin{proof}
Denote $X_ i=Y_ {i+1}+Y_ {i+2}+\dotsc, i=0,1, \dotsc$
, then $X_i $ is $\mathcal{F}_i $ measurable by the
condition
with
\begin{equation*}
\begin{aligned}
E(X_i|\mathcal{F}_{i+1})=&E(Y_{i+1}+Y_{i+2}+\dotsc|\mathcal{F}_{i+1})\\
=&Y_ {i+2}+Y_ {i+3}\dotsc\\
=&X_ {i+1}
\end{aligned}
\end{equation*}
So we know that $X_i$ is backward martingale difference.
\end{proof}
\end{lem}
\begin{lem}\label{lem3}
Suppose a sequence of random variable $X_n$ converges
to $Z$, $Y_n$ converges to zero in distribution,
then $X_ n+Y_ n $ converges to $Z$ in distribution.
\begin{proof}
For any continuous point of the distribution
function of $Z$, $d$ for example, we have
\begin{equation*}
P(X_n+Y_n\le d)\le P(X_n\le d+\epsilon)+P(|Y_n|\ge \epsilon)
\end{equation*}
let $n \rightarrow \infty $, and then let $ \epsilon
\rightarrow 0 $, we get
$\limsup P (X_n+Y_n \le d) \le P (Z \le d) $\\
For the same reason, from
\begin{equation*}
P(X_n+Y_n\le d)\ge P(X_n\le d-\epsilon)-P(|Y_n|\ge \epsilon)
\end{equation*}
we get
$ \liminf P (X_n+Y_n \le d) \ge P (Z \le d)$
. That is, $ \lim P (X_n+Y_n \le d)=P(Z \le d)$
. Conclusion follows.
\end{proof}
\end{lem}
\begin{lem}\label{cla1}
$E(U^n\phi|\mathcal{F}_n)=U^nE(\phi|\mathcal{F}_0).$
\end{lem}
This can be obtained from the transformation formula
of conditional mathematical expectation integral,
see Section 2.4.7 of the Elements of Probability \cite{5} for details
\begin{proof} [\textbf{proof of theorem \ref*{th1}.}]
We have three steps to prove the first part
of the theorem \ref*{th1}.\\
\textbf{step1} We want to decompose
$U ^ nf $ as follows:
\begin{equation}\label{key}
U^n f=Y_ n+U^n g-U^{n-1}g,n\ge 1
\end{equation}
Here, $g$ is almost everywhere finite
and $\mathcal{F}_ 0$ measurable. $Y_i$
is the backward martingale difference,
in particular, $Y_i$ satisfies
$E(Y_i|\mathcal{F}_i)=0,i\ge 0$.
Taking $n=1$ in (\ref*{key}), we get
$Uf=Y_1+Ug-g$,
taking conditional expectation of
$\mathcal{F}_1$ on both side,
combining with lemma \ref*{cla1},
we obtain $UE(f|\mathcal {F}_0)=
UE(g |\mathcal {F}_0) - E (g | \mathcal {F}_1)$
, notice that $f, g$ is $\mathcal {F}_ 0$ measurable,
and then act on $U^*$, we get
\begin{equation}
f=g-U^*E(g|\mathcal{F}_1)=g-U^*E(UU^*g|\mathcal{F}_1)=g-E(U^*g|\mathcal{F}_0)
\end{equation}
Denote $T_ 0: \phi \mapsto
E(U ^ *\phi |\mathcal {F}_0) $,
based on the knowledge of
functional analysis, the equation
\begin{equation*}
f=(I-T_0)g
\end{equation*}
has a unique solution
$g=\sum_ {n=0}^{\infty}T_ 0^n f$
\begin{claimm}
$T_ 0^n f=E(U^{*n}|\mathcal{F}_0)$
\end{claimm}
In fact, it suffices to notice that
\begin{equation*}
\begin{aligned}
T_ 0(E(U^{*n}f|\mathcal{F}_0))=&E(U^{*}E(U^{*n}f|\mathcal{F}_0)|\mathcal{F}_ 0)=U^{*}UE(U^{*}E(U^{*n}f|\mathcal{F}_0)|\mathcal{F}_ 0)\\
=&U^{*}E(E(U^{*n}f|\mathcal{F}_0)|\mathcal{F}_ 1)=U^{*}E(U^{*n}f|\mathcal{F}_1)
=U^{*}E(UU^{*(n+1)}f|\mathcal{F}_ 1)\\=& E(U^{*(n+1)}f|\mathcal{F}_ 0)
\end{aligned}
\end{equation*}
So we get
\begin{equation}
g=\sum_ {n=0}^{\infty} E(U^{*n}f|\mathcal{F}_0)
\end{equation}
From the assumptions, we can see
that $g$ is well defined. Next, we
will bring the above formula into (\ref{key})
and prove that the decomposition of
(\ref{key}) is reasonable.
First, obviously, $g$ is $\mathcal {F}_0$ measurable
and after calculation, we get
\begin{equation*}
\begin{aligned}
Y_ i=\sum_ {i=0}^{\infty}E(U^{*n}f|\mathcal{F}_{i-1})-\sum_ {i=0}^{\infty}
E(U^{*n}f|\mathcal{F}_{i}),\quad i\ge 1
\end{aligned}
\end{equation*}
It is easy to know $Y_ i$ is
$\mathcal {F}_ {i-1} $ measurable, and$
E (Y_i | \mathcal {F}_i)=0, i \ge 1 $, and
$\sum_ {i=0}^{\infty} Y_i $ converges almost
everywhere to $\sum _ {i=0}^{\infty}E(U^{*n}f|\mathcal{F}_0)$
, according to lemma \ref*{lem2}, $Y_i $
is backward martingale difference.
\begin{claimm}\label{cla3}
$Y_ i$ is a stationary sequence
\end{claimm}
In fact, from the formula (\ref*{key}),
$Y_ i=U^{i-1}Y_ 1=Y_1 \circ T ^ {i-1}$,
where $T$ is the measure preserving
transformation. For the positive integer
$n,m$, and the measurable
set $A_ i\in\mathcal{F},i=1\dots n$
we have
\begin{equation*}
\begin{aligned}
P(Y_{m+1}\in A_1,Y_{m+2}\in A_2,\dots,Y_{m+n}\in A_n)&=P(Y_1\in T^{m+1}A_1\cap\dots\cap T^{m+n}A_n)\\ &=P(Y_1\in T^{1}A_1\cap\dots\cap T^{n}A_n)\\&=
P(Y_{1}\in A_1,Y_{2}\in A_2,\dots,Y_{n}\in A_n)
\end{aligned}
\end{equation*}
thus $Y_i$ is a stationary sequence\\
\textbf{step2}
From the above decomposition,
\begin{equation*}
\frac{1}{\sqrt{n}} \sum_ {i=0}^{n}U^i f=\frac{1}{\sqrt{n}}
\sum_ {i=1}^{n} Y_ i+\frac{1}{\sqrt{n}}(U^n g-g+f)
\end{equation*}
Then $\frac {1}{\sqrt {n}} (U ^ n g-g+f)$
converges to 0 in probability. In fact,
for any $\epsilon>0$, and $T$ is a measure
guaranteed mapping, we have
\begin{equation*}
\begin{aligned}
P(|\frac{1}{\sqrt{n}}(U^n g-g+f)|>\epsilon)=&P(|(U^n g-g+f)|>\epsilon\sqrt{n})\\\le&
P(|(U^n g|>\frac{\epsilon}{2}\sqrt{n})+P(|(f-g|>\frac{\epsilon}{2}\sqrt{n})
\\=&P(|(g|>\frac{\epsilon}{2}\sqrt{n})+P(|(f-g|>\frac{\epsilon}{2}\sqrt{n})
\end{aligned}
\end{equation*}
By $f\in L^{\infty} (\Omega)$, $g$
are almost bounded everywhere. It can
be seen that the above equation is
tend to 0 when $n \rightarrow \infty$.
From lemma \ref*{lem3}, we know if we
want to prove
$\frac {1}{\sqrt {n}} \sum_ {i=0}^{n}U^if$
converges in distribution
, it suffices to prove $Y_i$ is a square integrable,
stationary, ergodic backward martingale difference.
That $Y_i$ is stationary is obtained from the claim
\ref*{cla3}. Note that $Y_i=U^{i-1}Y_ 1=Y_ 1 \circ
T ^ {i-1}$, ergodicity is guaranteed by the
measure preserving system, and it only needs
to prove $Y_i$ is square integrable\\
\textbf{step3}
we will prove $Y_i$ is square integrable in this step.
In fact, the method is similar to the previous one,
that is, using martingale difference to approximate
$Y_i$, we want to find $Y_i(\lambda) $, $ \lambda>1 $
, making $Y_ {i}(\lambda) $ is $\mathcal {F}_{i-1}$
measurable, and
\begin{equation*}
\quad E(Y_{i}(\lambda)|\mathcal{F}_ {i})=0
\end{equation*}
as well as
\begin{equation*}
U^i f=Y_ i(\lambda)+U^ig(\lambda)-\lambda^{-1}U^{i-1}g(\lambda)
\end{equation*}
The same discussion as before shows that
$g(\lambda)=\sum_ {n=0}^{\infty}
\lambda^{-n}E(U^{*n}f|\mathcal{F}_0)$
, note $E (U ^ {* n} f | \mathcal {F}_0) \le |
| f||_ {L ^ { \infty}} $ and $\lambda>1$
. So $g (\lambda) \in L_ {\infty}\subset L_ {2} $, and
$ \lim_ { \lambda \rightarrow 1} g (\lambda)=g (1)=g$, so
$\lim_ {\lambda\rightarrow 1} Y_i(\lambda)=Y_i$.
Due to the stationarity and that U is a
unitary transformation, we have
\begin{equation*}
\begin{aligned}
E(Uf(Uf-Ug(\lambda)+\lambda^{-1}g(\lambda)))&=E(E(Uf(Uf-Ug(\lambda)+\lambda^{-1}g(\lambda))|\mathcal{F}_ 1))\\ &=
E(UfE((Uf-Ug(\lambda)+\lambda^{-1}g(\lambda))|\mathcal{F}_ 1))\\ &=E(UfE((Y_1|\mathcal{F}_1))=0
\end{aligned}
\end{equation*}
therefore
\begin{equation}\label{long}
\begin{aligned}
E(Y_i(\lambda)^2)=&E(Y_1(\lambda)^2)=E([Uf-Ug(\lambda)+\lambda^{-1}g(\lambda)]^2)\\
=&-E((Uf)^2)+E([Ug(\lambda)-\lambda^{-1}g(\lambda)])\\
=&-E(f^2)+E(Ug(\lambda)[Ug(\lambda)-\lambda^{-1}g(\lambda)])-\lambda^{-1}E(g(\lambda Ug(\lambda)))
+\lambda^{-2}E(Ug(\lambda)^2)\\
=&-E(f^2)+2E(Ug(\lambda)[Ug(\lambda)-\lambda^{-1}g(\lambda)])-(1-\lambda^{-2}E(g(\lambda)^2))\\
=&-E(f^2)+2E(Ug(\lambda)f)-(1-\lambda^2)E(g(\lambda)^2)\\
=&-E(f^2)+2E(g(\lambda)f)-(1-\lambda^2)E(g(\lambda)^2)\\
\le&-E(f^2)+2\sum_ {n=0}^{\infty}\lambda^{-n}E(fU^{*n}f)\\
=&-E(f^2)+2\sum_ {n=0}^{\infty}\lambda^{-n}E(fU^nf)\\
\le&-E(f^2)+2\sum_ {n=0}^{\infty}|E(fU^nf)|
\end{aligned}
\end{equation}
Finally, by the fatous lemma,
\begin{equation*}
E(Y_1^2)=E(\liminf_{\lambda\rightarrow 1} Y_1(\lambda)^2)\le
\liminf_ {\lambda\rightarrow 1} E(Y_1(\lambda)^2)\le -E(f^2)+2\sum_ {n=0}^{\infty}|E(fU^nf)|
\end{equation*}
Thus $Y_1$ is square integrable.
So far, the first part of the theorem has been proved\\
For the second part of the theorem, we let $n=1$
in the formula (\ref*{key}) and get
\begin{equation*}
\sigma^2=E(Y_1^2)=E[(Uf-Ug+g)^2]
\end{equation*}
Therefore, $\sigma=0 \Longleftrightarrow
\exists \mathcal {F}_ 0$
measurable function $g$, such that $Uf=Ug-g$
For the third part of the theorem, note that
\begin{equation}
\begin{aligned}\label{long4}
|E(Y_1^2)-&\{-E(f^2)+2\sum_{n=0}^{\infty}E(fU^nf)\}|\le\\ & |E(Y_1^2)-E(Y_1(\lambda)^2)|+
|E(Y_1(\lambda)^2)-\{-E(f^2)+2\sum_{n=0}^{\infty}E(fU^nf)\}|
\end{aligned}
\end{equation}
We prove that the above two formulas tend to $0$ when
$\lambda \rightarrow 1 $, so that the conclusion follows.
For the convenience of proof,
we first consider the second term, combining with the
formula \ref*{long}, we have
\begin{equation}\label{long2}
\begin{aligned}
|E(Y_1(\lambda)^2)-&\{-E(f^2)+2\sum_{n=0}^{\infty}E(fU^nf)\}|\\ &\le
2\sum_ {n=0}^{\infty} (1-\lambda^{-n})|E(fU^nf)|+(1-\lambda^{-2})E(g(\lambda)^2)\\ &\le
2(1-\lambda^M)\sum_ {n=0}^{\infty} |E(fU^nf)|+ 2\sum_ {n=M}^{\infty} |E(fU^nf)|+(1-\lambda^{-2})E(g(\lambda^2))
\end{aligned}
\end{equation}
Here, $M$ is a large positive integer and fixed.
To estimate $(1 - \lambda ^ {- 2}) E (g (\lambda ^ 2))$
, for $\lambda>1,\mu>1$,
\begin{equation}\label{long3}
\begin{aligned}
E(g(\lambda)g(\mu))=&\sum_ {n=0,m=0}^{\infty}\lambda^{-n}\mu^{-m}E(U^{*n}fE(U^{*m}f|\mathcal{F}_0))\\ &
\le \sum_ {n=0}^{\infty}\lambda^{-n}\sum_ {m=0}^{M-1} \Vert f\Vert_ {\infty}E(|E(U^{*n}f|\mathcal{F}_0)|)
+\sum_ {n=0}^{\infty}\lambda^{-n}\sum_ {m=M}^{\infty}\Vert f\Vert_ {\infty} E(|E(U^{*m}f|\mathcal{F}_0)|)\\ &
\le M\Vert f\Vert_ {\infty}\sum_ {n=0}^{\infty}E(|E(U^{*n}f|\mathcal{F}_0)|)+\frac{\Vert f\Vert_{\infty}}{1-\lambda^{-1}}\sum_ {m=M}^{\infty} E(|E(U^{*m}f|\mathcal{F}_0)|)
\end{aligned}
\end{equation}
Combining the formula (\ref*{long2}) and
formula (\ref*{long3}), we can see that
the second term of (\ref*{long4})
\begin{equation*}
\lim_ {\lambda\rightarrow 1}|E(Y_1(\lambda)^2)-\{-E(f^2)+2\sum_{n=0}^{\infty}E(fU^nf)\}|=0
\end{equation*}
For the first term (\ref*{long4}), notice that
$\lambda \ge \mu>1 $,
\begin{equation*}
\begin{aligned}
E([Y_1(\lambda)-Y_1(\mu)]^2)=&E([\lambda^{-1}g(\lambda)-\mu^{-1}g(\mu)][Y_1(\lambda)-Y_1(\mu)])\\
=& E([\lambda^{-1}g(\lambda)-\mu^{-1}g(\mu)]^2)+E([g(\lambda)-g(\mu)]^2)\\
\le & (1-\lambda^{-1}\mu^{-1})E(g(\lambda)g(\mu))
\end{aligned}
\end{equation*}
This means that in the sense of $L^2 $,
$lim_ {\lambda\rightarrow 1}Y_ 1(\lambda)=Y_ 1 $, so
\begin{equation*}
\lim_ {\lambda\rightarrow 1} E(Y_1^2)-E(Y_1(\lambda)^2)=0
\end{equation*}
To sum up, the third part of the theorem is valid
\end{proof}
\end{thm}
For the case that $T$ is a injective, we have the following theorem:
\begin{thm}[\cite{1}]
Assume that $T$ is a invertible measure preserving
mapping, $\mathcal {F}_ i\subset \mathcal{F}_ {i-1}$,
then for $f \in L ^ {\infty} (X), E(f)=0 $.
satisfies:\\
(1)$\sum_ {n=0}^{\infty}|E(fU^n f)|< \infty$,\\
(2)$\sum_ {n=0} ^ {\infty} E (U ^ {- n} f | \mathcal {F}_0) $
convergence in $L ^ 1$, \\
(3)$\exists\alpha>1:\sup_ {k\in N}k^\alpha
E(|E(f|\mathcal{F}_ {-k})-f|)<\infty,$
Then the central theorem holds, that is
\begin{equation*}
\frac{1}{\sqrt{n}} \sum_ {i=0}^{n}U^i f\rightarrow N(0,\sigma^2)
\end{equation*}
Here $\sigma ^ 2=- E (f ^ 2)+2 \sum_ {n=0}^{\infty}E(fU^n f).$
\end{thm}
\begin{rk}
The proof idea is similar to the previous theorem.
The following is just the idea of proof. See \cite{1} for the details
\end{rk}
\begin{proof}
Note that we do not assume that
$f$ is $\mathcal {F}_ 0$ measurable, so the main idea is to
use $E (f | \mathcal {F} _ {- k})$ to approximate $f$,
that is, using the method in the previous theorem to prove
\begin{equation*}
S_ n^k=\frac{1}{\sqrt{n}}\sum_ {i=0}^{n-1}U^iE(f|\mathcal{F}_{-k})
\end{equation*}
converge to $N (0, \sigma_k ^ 2) $ in distribution,
and then let $k \rightarrow \infty $, proving that the
left side tends to $S_n$, right side tend to
$\frac{1}{\sqrt{n}}\sum_ {i=0} ^ {n-1} U ^ if $. And result
follows.
\end{proof}
\newpage
\section{Martingale difference approximation}
This section will be discussed under the condition
(\ref*{jiashe}) (2) in the section 1, and
it is assumed that $T$ is a injective
(thus, $U$ is a unitary transformation).
Let us make some notational conventions first.
we denote $H_i=L ^ 2(\mathcal {F}_i)$ and
$S_k=H_ {k+1}\ominus H_k $. we use $Q$ to
represent the span of the elements in the form of
the $H_ k\ominus H_j $ in $L ^ 2 (\Omega) $, $k$ and $j$ are two integers.
$ P_ {S_k} $ means the projection operator from $L ^ 2 (\Omega) \rightarrow
S_k$.
\begin{lem}[\cite{3}]\label{gor}
Set $f \in L ^ 2 (\Omega) $ as well as
\begin{equation}
\inf_ {g\in Q} \limsup_ {n\rightarrow \infty}^{——} n^{-1}E[\sum_{k=0}^{n-1} U^k(f-g)]^2=0
\end{equation}
then
\begin{equation*}
\lim_ {n\rightarrow\infty} n^{-1} E(\sum_{k=0}^{n-1} U^kf)^2=\sigma^2, 0\le \sigma^2<\infty
,\frac{1}{\sqrt{n}} \sum_ {i=0}^{n}U^i f\rightarrow N(0,\sigma^2).
\end{equation*}
\end{lem}
This lemma is important. The following two
theorems will be obtained by this lemma.
But since the original literature \cite{3} is
written in Russian, which bring many difficulties
for me to read and understand the proof. The
following is my proof by referring to an
English document \cite{7} which
annotate \cite{3} and some formulas of \cite{3} itself.
Before formally proving the theorem, we first prove an assertion
\begin{claimm}\label{cla2}
$H_ k=U^{k}H_ 0.$
\end{claimm}
In fact, according to \ref*{cla1},
$\forall f \in H_ 0 $, $E (U ^ kf | \mathcal {F}_k)
=U ^ kE (f | \mathcal {F}_0)=U ^ kf $, so
$U ^ kf $ is $ \mathcal {F}_ K $ is measurable.
In addition, $U$ is unitary transformation,
$E(U^kf)^2=E (f ^ 2)<\infty $, which means $U^k f\in H_k$.
On the other hand, $ \forall g \in H ^ k$,
we let $f=U ^{-n}g $. As above, we have
$E (f | \mathcal {F}_0)=U ^ {- n} E (U ^ kf | \mathcal {F}_k)=
U ^ {- n} g=f$, so $f $ is $\mathcal {F}_ 0 $ measurable.
noting $E (f^2)=E(g^2)< \infty $, it means $f\in H_0 $,
the conclusion is valid.
\begin {proof} [proof of lemma \ref*{gor}.]
By condition, $p \in \mathbb {Z}^+,
\epsilon_ p>0,
\lim_ {p\rightarrow\infty}\epsilon_p=0
$, there exists$g_p \in Q $ such that
\begin{equation*}
\limsup_{n\rightarrow \infty} n^{-1}E[\sum_{k=0}^{n-1} U^k(f-g_p)]^2<\epsilon_ p
\end{equation*}
\textbf{step1} we want to prove the existence of
random variable $h_ p\in S_{- 1} $ such that
\begin{equation*}
\limsup_{n\rightarrow \infty} n^{-1}E[\sum_{k=0}^{n-1} U^k(f-h_p)]^2<2\epsilon_ p
\end{equation*}
in fact,
\begin{equation*}
\begin{aligned}
f=&g_ p+f-g_ p=\sum_ {l=-\infty}^{\infty} P_ {S_l}g_ p+f-g_ p\\ =&\sum_ {l=-\infty}^{\infty} U^{-(l+1)}P_ {S_l}g_ p+
\sum_ {l=-\infty}^{\infty}\sum_ {m=0}^{-l} U^{m}P_ {S_l}g_ p+U\sum_ {l=-\infty}^{\infty}\sum_ {m=0}^{-l} U^{m}P_ {S_l}g_ p+f-g_ p
\end{aligned}
\end{equation*}
we denote first term of the above formula is $h_p$,
the second item is $t_p$, then the third item is
$Ut_p$, by $g_p\in Q $ we know $t_p$ is well defined, in addition, we have
\begin{equation*}
\begin{aligned}
\limsup_ {n\rightarrow \infty} n^{-1}E[\sum_{k=0}^{n-1} U^k(f-h_p)]^2=&\lim_ {n\rightarrow \infty}^{——} n^{-1}
E[\sum_{k=0}^{n-1}U^k(t_p-Ut_p+f-g_p)]^2\\ \le& \lim_ {n\rightarrow \infty}^{——} 2n^{-1}[E(t_p-U^nt_p)^2+E(\sum_{k=0}^{n-1}U^k(f-g_p)^2)]<2\epsilon_ p
\end{aligned}
\end{equation*}
To prove the last inequality, it suffices to prove
$ lim_ {n \rightarrow \infty} n ^ {- 1} E (t_p-U ^ nt_p) ^ 2=0
$. From the definition of $Q$ and the claim
\ref*{cla2}, we know that when $n$ is sufficiently large,
$E (t_pU ^ nt_p)=0 $, as a result, we have
\begin{equation*}
\begin{aligned}
\lim_ {n\rightarrow \infty} n^{-1}[E(t_p-U^nt_p)^2]=&\lim_ {n\rightarrow \infty} n^{-1}[E(t_p^2)+E(U^nt_p)^2-E(2t_pUt_p)]\\ =&\lim_ {n\rightarrow \infty} n^{-1}[E(t_p^2)+E(t_p)^2]=0
\end{aligned}
\end{equation*}
\textbf{step2} we will prove that
$ {h_p, p \in \mathbb {Z} ^+} $ is
a convergence sequence of $S_{-1}$ in
$L^2$.\\
In fact, by $U ^k h_ p\in S_{k-1}$,
and the orthogonality between $S_k$ and $S_l$
, $k\neq l$, we get
\begin{equation*}
\begin{aligned}
E[h_p-h_{p'}]^2&=n^{-1}E[\sum_{k=0}^{n-1}U^k(h_p-h_{p'})]^2=n^{-1}E[\sum_{k=0}^{n-1}U^k(f-h_p)-(f-h_{p'})]^2\\
& \le\limsup_{n\rightarrow\infty}
2n^{-1}E[\sum_{k=0}^{n-1}U^k(f-h_p)]^2+2n^{-1}E[\sum_{k=0}^{n-1}U^k(f-h_{p'})]^2\\
& \le2\epsilon_ p+2\epsilon_ {p'}
\end{aligned}
\end{equation*}
Thus $ {h_p, p \in \mathbb {Z}^+} $ is
a convergence sequence of $S_ {- 1} $ in
$L^2$, and $ lim_ {p\rightarrow \infty}h_ p=h_ 0\in
S_ {-1}$\\
\textbf {step3} we now prove:
\begin{equation*}
\limsup_ {n\rightarrow \infty} n^{-1}E[\sum_{k=0}^{n-1} U^k(f-h_0)]^2=0
\end{equation*}
in fact,
\begin{equation*}
\begin{aligned}
\limsup_ {n\rightarrow \infty} n^{-1}E[\sum_{k=0}^{n-1} U^k(f-h_0)]^2&\le
\limsup_ {n\rightarrow \infty} 2n^{-1}E[\sum_{k=0}^{n-1} U^k(f-h_p)]^2+n^{-1}E[\sum_{k=0}^{n-1}U^k(h_p-h_0)]^2
\\ & \le \epsilon_ p+E[h_p-h_{p'}]^2
\end{aligned}
\end{equation*}
let $p \rightarrow \infty$ conclusion follows.\\
\textbf{step4}\\
We denote $r_k=U^k (f-h_0) $, then
$U ^ kf=U ^ kh_ 0+r_ k$. It is easy to see that
$ {U ^ kh_0 } $ is the martingale difference sequence
\footnote {from $U ^ k h_0 \in S_ {k-1} $,
it can be seen that $E (U ^ kh_0 | \mathcal {F} _ {k-1})=0 $
and $E (U ^ kh_0) $ is $ \mathcal {F}_k$ measurable,
so $U ^ kh_ 0 $ is martingale difference sequence.},
by step 3, we have
\begin{equation*}
\lim_ {n\rightarrow \infty}^{——} n^{-1}E[\sum_{k=0}^{n-1} r_k]^2=0
\end{equation*}
Therefore, ${r_k}$ converges to 0 in probability, and the
conclusion is established by the central limit theorem of
theorem \ref*{lemma1} martingale and lemma \ref*{lem3}.
\end{proof}
Using this lemma, we prove the following theorems:
\begin{thm}[\cite{2}]
Consider a probability space $(\Omega, \mathcal {F}, P)$
And a measure preserving mapping
$T: \Omega \rightarrow \Omega $. Here, we also assume that
$T$ is injective, and if $A \in \mathcal {F}$,
then $T (A) \in \mathcal {F} $, and further assume that
$(P, T) $ is ergodic. Let $ \mathcal {F}_ 0 $ be a sub
$\sigma$ field of $ \mathcal {F} $, defined
$\mathcal{F}_ i=T^{-i}\mathcal{F}_ 0, i \in \mathbb {Z} $,
and $ \dots \subset \mathcal {F}_ {-1}\subset\mathcal{F}_
0\subset\mathcal{F}_ 1 \subset \dots $, if $f
\in L ^ 2 ( \Omega) $, denote
\begin{equation*}
x_ r=E(U^rf|\mathcal{F}_0)-E(U^rf|\mathcal{F}_{-1})
\end{equation*}
If $\sum_ {i\in Z} x_ r=Y_ 0\in L^2(\Omega),
E(Y_0^2)=\sigma^2>0$,$
\lim_ {n\rightarrow\infty} n^{-1}ES_n ^ 2= \sigma ^ 2$, \\
then
\begin{equation*}
\frac{1}{\sqrt{n}} \sum_ {i=0}^{n}U^i f\rightarrow N(0,\sigma^2)
\end{equation*}
Here $S_n=\sum_ {i=1}^{n}U^i f.$
\begin{proof}
By condition $Y_0 \in L^2(\Omega) $,
and $Y_0\in S_ {-1}=H_ 0\ominus H_ {-1}$,
We hope to uses lemma \ref*{gor}.
we Denote $Y_ j=U^j Y_ 0,X_ J=U ^ jf$, and we
note that
${Y_j}$ is a stationary ergodic martingale
difference sequence. \footnote {it can be calculated that
$U ^ iY_0= \sum_ {r \in \mathbb {Z}}
E [U ^ r f | F_i] - E [U ^ r f | F_ {i-1}] $,
thus $Y_j $is naturally martingale difference sequence.},
If we denote $T_n=\sum_ {i=1}^nY_i $,
we only need to prove that when
$n \rightarrow \infty$
we have
\begin{equation*}
\frac{1}{n}E(S_n-T_n)^2\rightarrow 0.
\end{equation*}
Notice
\begin{equation*}
E(S_n-T_n)^2=ES_ n^2+ET_ n^2-2ES_ nET_ n
\end{equation*}
And by condition and the central limit theorem of
martingale difference, $n ^ {- 1} ES_ n^2\rightarrow\sigma^2,n^{-1}ET_ n^2=\sigma^2$
, so it is suffices to prove $n ^ {- 1} ES_ nT_ n\rightarrow\sigma^2
$,
however,
\begin{equation*}
n^{-1}ES_ nT_ n=n^{-1}\sum_ {i=1}^n\sum_ {j=1}^nE(X_iY_j)=\sum_ {j=-(n-1)}^{n-1}(1-|j|n^{-1})E(Y_0X_j)
\end{equation*}
so $n ^ {- 1} ES_ nT_ n\rightarrow\sum_ {j=-\infty}^{\infty}E(Y_0X_j)$
\\On the other hand, $Y_ 0\in H_ 0\ominus H_ {- 1}$
, so $E (Y_0E (X_j | \mathcal {F} _ {- 1}))=0$
, so
\begin{equation*}
E(Y_0X_j)=E(Y_0E(X_j|\mathcal{F}_0))=E(Y_0E(X_j|\mathcal{F}_0)-Y_ 0E(X_j|\mathcal{F}_{-1}))=E(Y_0x_j)
\end{equation*}
So there are
\begin{equation*}
\sum_ {j=-\infty}^{\infty}E(Y_0X_j)=\sum_ {j=-\infty}^{\infty} E(Y_0xj)=E(Y_0^2)=\sigma^2.
\end{equation*}
\end{proof}
\end{thm}
Lemma \ref*{gor} is a classical result, but its
condition (\ref*{gor}) is usually difficult to
verify, so the paper \cite{2} introduce a
condition that is stronger than (\ref*{gor}) but
easier to verify, that is, the following theorem:
\begin{thm}[\cite{2}]
Let $X_j=U ^ jf$, $f$ satisfies $E (f)=0,
f\in L ^ 2 (\Omega)$
and $\mathcal {F}_ 0 $ measurable,
if it satisfies: \\
(1)$\sum_ {k=1} ^ {\infty} E (X_kE (X_n | \mathcal {F}_0)) $
converges for each $n \ge 0 $\\
(2)$\lim_ {n\rightarrow \infty}\sum_ {k=K} ^ {\infty} E (X_kE
(X_n | \mathcal {F}_0))=0 $ Uniform convergence for $K $\\
Then $ lim_ {n\rightarrow\infty}n^{-1}ES_n ^ 2=\sigma ^ 2,
\sigma ^ 2< \infty $,if $\sigma ^ 2>0 $, then
\begin{equation*}
\frac{1}{\sqrt{n}} \sum_ {i=0}^{n}U^i f\rightarrow N(0,\sigma^2).
\end{equation*}
\end{thm}
\section {Summary and thanks}
In the previous sections, we listed two different approaches to
approximate $U^i f$, one is to use backward martingale difference,
the other is martingale difference. Then we use the martingale
central limit theorem to obtain the central limit
theorem about $U ^ if$.
We can also see that the conditions of these theorems are
relatively complex. Whether they have application in
other fields is what
I still need to learn and explore.
Finally, I would like to thank Professor Xie Jiansheng for
his guidance in this semester, and Mr. Carlanelo
Liverani from the University of Rome "Tor Vergata" for helping
me find the specific proof of martingale central limit theorem.
\newpage
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaArXiv"
}
| 4,091
|
{"url":"http:\/\/intermezzos.github.io\/book\/paging.html","text":"# Paging\n\nAt the end of the last chapter, we did a lot of work that wasn\u2019t actually writing kernel code. So let\u2019s review what we\u2019re up to:\n\n1. GRUB loaded our kernel, and started running it.\n2. We\u2019re currently running in \u2018protected mode\u2019, a 32-bit environment.\n3. We want to transition to \u2018long mode\u2019, the 64-bit environment.\n4. In order to do that, we have to do some work.\n\nWe\u2019re on step four. More specifically, here\u2019s what we have to do:\n\n1. Set up something called \u2018paging\u2019.\n2. Set up something called a \u2018GDT\u2019.\n\nThis section covers step one. The next two will cover the other two steps. Afterwards, we\u2019ll be ready to stop writing assembly and start writing Rust!\n\nBy the way...\n\nThere\u2019s something we\u2019re going to skip here, which we\u2019d want to do in a more serious kernel: check to make sure that our hardware can actually do this! We\u2019re going to just assume that our \u2018hardware\u2019 can run in 64-bit mode, because we\u2019re running our OS in QEMU, which supports all of these operations. But if we were to run our OS on a real 32-bit computer, it would end up crashing. We could check that it\u2019s possible, and then print a nice error message instead. But, we won\u2019t cover that here. It\u2019s not particularly interesting, and we know that it will never fail. But it might be something you want to explore on your own, for extra credit.\n\n## Paging\n\nSo, step one: set up \u2018paging\u2019. What is paging? Paging is a way of managing memory. Our computer has memory, and we can think of memory as being a big long list of cells:\n\n0x00 0\n0x01 0\n0x02 0\n0x03 0\n0x04 0\n...\n\nEach location in memory has an address, and we can use the address to distinguish between the cells: the value at cell zero, the value at cell ten.\n\nBut how many cells are there? This question has two answers: The first answer is how much physical memory (RAM) do we have in our machine? This will vary per machine. My machine has 8 gigabytes of memory or 8,589,934,592 bytes. But maybe your machine has 4 gigabytes of memory, or sixteen gigabytes of memory.\n\nThe second answer to how many cells there are is how many addresses can be used to refer to cells of memory? To answer that we need to figure out how many different unique numbers we can make. In 64-bit mode, we can create as many addresses as can be expressed by a 64-bit number. So that means we can make addresses from zero to (2^64) - 1. That\u2019s 18,446,744,073,709,551,616 addresses! We sometimes refer to a sequence of addresses as an \u2018address space\u2019, so we might say \u201cThe full 64-bit address space has 2^64 addresses.\u201d\n\nSo now we have an imbalance. We have only roughly 8.5 billion actual physical memory slots in an 8GB machine but quintillions of possible addresses we can make.\n\nHow can we resolve this imbalance? We don't want to be able to address memory that doesn't exist!\n\nMapping each individual address would be extremely inefficient; we would need to keep track of literally every memory address and where it points to. Instead, we split up memory into chunks, also called \u2018pages\u2019, and then map each page to an equal sized chunk of physical memory.\n\nBy the way... In the future we'll be using paging to help us implement something called \"virtual memory\". Besides helping us always be able to map a 64-bit number to a real place in physical memory, \"virtual memory\" is useful for other reasons. These reasons don't really come into play at this point, so we'll hold off on discussing them. For now, it's just important to know that we need paging to enter 64-bit long mode and that it's a good idea for many reasons including helping us resolve the fact the we have way less actual memory than possible addresses to refer to that memory.\n\nPaging is actually implemented by a part of the CPU called an \u2018MMU\u2019, for \u2018memory management unit\u2019. The MMU will translate virtual addresses into their respective physical addresses automatically; we can write all of our software with virtual addresses only. The MMU does this with a data structure called a \u2018page table\u2019. As an operating system, we load up the page table with a certain data structure, and then tell the CPU to enable paging. This is the task ahead of us; it\u2019s required to set up paging before we transition to long mode.\n\nHow should we do our mapping of physical to virtual addresses? You can make this easy, or complex, and it depends on exactly what you want your OS to be good at. Some strategies are better than others, depending on the kinds of programs you expect to be running. We\u2019re going to keep it simple, and use a strategy called \u2018identity mapping\u2019. This means that every virtual address will map to a physical address of the same number. Nothing fancy.\n\nLet\u2019s talk more about the page table. In long mode, the page table is four levels deep, and each page is 4096 bytes in size. What do I mean by levels? Here are the official names:\n\n\u2022 the Page-Map Level-4 Table (PML4),\n\u2022 the Page-Directory Pointer Table (PDP),\n\u2022 the Page-Directory Table (PD),\n\u2022 and the Page Table (PT).\n\nI\u2019ve most commonly heard them referred to as a \u201clevel x page table\u201d, where x goes from four to one. So the PML4 is a \u201clevel four page table,\u201d and the PT is a \u201clevel one page table.\u201d They\u2019re called \u2018levels\u2019 because they decend in order: each entry in a level 4 page table points to a level 3 page table entry. Each level 3 page table entry points at a level 2 page table entry, and each level 2 page table entry points at a level 1 page table entry. That entry then contains the address. Whew! To get started, we only need one entry of each table.\n\n## Creating the page table\n\nSo here\u2019s the strategy: create a single entry of each of these tables, then point them at each other in the correct way, then tell the CPU that paging should be enabled.\n\n### Creating page table entries\n\nTo create space for these page table entries, open up boot.asm and add these lines at the bottom:\n\nsection .bss\n\nalign 4096\n\np4_table:\nresb 4096\np3_table:\nresb 4096\np2_table:\nresb 4096\n\n\nWe introduce a new section, \u2018bss\u2019. It stands for \u2018block started by symbol\u2019, and was introduced in the 1950s. The name doesn\u2019t make much sense anymore, but the reason we use it is because of its behavior: entries in the bss section are automatically set to zero by the linker. This is useful, as we only want certain bits set to 1, and most of them set to zero.\n\nThe resb directive reserves bytes; we want to reserve space for each entry.\n\nThe align directive makes sure that we\u2019ve aligned our tables properly. We haven\u2019t talked much about alignment yet: the idea is that the addresses here will be set to a multiple of 4096, hence \u2018aligned\u2019 to 4096 byte chunks. We\u2019ll eventually talk more about alignment and why it\u2019s important, but it doesn\u2019t matter a ton right now.\n\nAfter this has been added, we have a single valid entry for each level. However, because our page four entry is all zeroes, we have no valid pages. That\u2019s not super useful. Let\u2019s set things up properly.\n\n### Pointing the entries at each other\n\nIn order to do this setup, we need to write some more assembly code! Open up boot.asm. You can either leave in printing code, or remove it. If you do leave it in, add this code before it: that way, if you see your message print out, you know it ran successfully.\n\nglobal start\n\nsection .text\nbits 32\nstart:\n; Point the first entry of the level 4 page table to the first entry in the\n; p3 table\nmov eax, p3_table\nor eax, 0b11\nmov dword [p4_table + 0], eax\n\n\nIf you recall, ; are comments. Leaving yourself excessive comments in assembly files is a good idea. Let\u2019s go over each of these lines:\n\n mov eax, p3_table\n\n\nThis copies the contents of the first third-level page table entry into the eax register. We need to do this because of the next line:\n\n or eax, 0b11\n\n\nWe take the contents of eax and or it with 0b11, the result is written in eax. First, let\u2019s talk about what this does, and then we\u2019ll talk about why we want to do it.\n\nWhen dealing with binary, or is an operation that returns 1 if either value is 1, and 0 if both are 0. In other words, if a and b are a single binary digit:\n\na 0 1 0 1\nb 0 0 1 1\nor a b 0 1 1 1\n\nYou\u2019ll see charts like this a lot when talking about binary stuff. You can read this chart from top to bottom, each column is a case. So the first column says \u201cif a is zero and b is zero, or a b will be zero.\u201d The second column says \u201cif a is one and b is zero, or a b will be one.\u201d And so on.\n\nNow, we defined p3_table in the BSS section, which means that it will start as all zeroes. So when we or with 0b11, it means that the first two bits will be set to one, keeping the rest as zeroes.\n\nOkay, so now we know what we are doing, but why? Each entry in a page table contains an address, but it also contains metadata about that page. The first two bits are the \u2018present bit\u2019 and the \u2018writable bit\u2019. By setting the first bit, we say \u201cthis page is currently in memory,\u201d and by setting the second, we say \u201cthis page is allowed to be written to.\u201d There are a number of other settings we can change this way, but they\u2019re not important for now.\n\nNow that we have an entry set up properly, the next line is of interest:\n\n mov dword [p4_table + 0], eax\n\n\nAnother mov instruction, but this time, copying eax, where we\u2019ve been setting things up, into... something in brackets. [] means, \u201cI will be giving you an address between the brackets. Please do something at the place this address points.\u201d In other words, [] is like a dereference operator.\n\nNow, the address we\u2019ve put is kind of funny looking: p4_table + 0. What\u2019s up with that + 0? It\u2019s not strictly needed: adding zero to something keeps it the same. However, it\u2019s intended to convey to the reader that we\u2019re accessing the zeroth entry in the page table. We\u2019re about to see some more code later where we will do something other than add zero, and so putting it here makes our code look more symmetric overall. If you don\u2019t like this style, you don\u2019t have to put the zero.\n\nThese few lines form the core of how we\u2019re setting up these page tables. We\u2019re going to do the same thing over again, with slight variations.\n\nHere\u2019s the full thing again:\n\n ; Point the first entry of the level 4 page table to the first entry in the\n; p3 table\nmov eax, p3_table\nor eax, 0b11 ;\nmov dword [p4_table + 0], eax\n\n\nOnce you feel like you\u2019ve got a handle on that, let\u2019s move on to pointing the page three table to the page two table!\n\n ; Point the first entry of the level 3 page table to the first entry in the\n; p2 table\nmov eax, p2_table\nor eax, 0b11\nmov dword [p3_table + 0], eax\n\n\nThe code is the same as above, but with p2_table and p3_table instead of p3_table and p4_table. Nothing more than that.\n\nWe have one last thing to do: set up the level two page table to have valid references to pages. We\u2019re going to do something we haven\u2019t done yet in assembly: write a loop!\n\nHere\u2019s the basic outline of loop in assembly:\n\n\u2022 Create a counter variable to track how many times we\u2019ve looped\n\u2022 make a label to define where the loop starts\n\u2022 do the body of the loop\n\u2022 add one to our counter\n\u2022 check to see if our counter is equal to the number of times we want to loop\n\u2022 if it\u2019s not, jump back to the top of the loop\n\u2022 if it is, we\u2019re done\n\nIt\u2019s a little more detail-oriented than loops in other languages. Usually, you have curly braces or indentation to indicate that the body of the loop is separate, but we don\u2019t have any of those things here. We also have to write the code to increment the counter, and check if we\u2019re done. Lots of little fiddly bits. But that\u2019s the nature of what we\u2019re doing!\n\nLet\u2019s get to it!\n\n ; point each page table level two entry to a page\nmov ecx, 0 ; counter variable\n\n\nIn order to write a loop, we need a counter. ecx is the usual loop counter register, that\u2019s what the c stands for: counter. We also have a comment indicating what we\u2019re doing in this part of the code.\n\nNext, we need to make a new label:\n\n.map_p2_table:\n\n\nAs we mentioned above, this is where we will loop back to when the loop continues.\n\n mov eax, 0x200000 ; 2MiB\n\n\nWe\u2019re going to store 0x200000 in eax, or 2,097,152 which is equivalent to 2 MiB. Here\u2019s the reason: each page is two megabytes in size. So in order to get the right memory location, we will multiply the number of the loop counter by 0x200000:\n\ncounter 0 1 2 3 4\n0x200000 0x200000 0x200000 0x200000 0x200000 0x020000\nmultiplied 0 0x200000 0x400000 0x600000 0x800000\n\nAnd so on. So our pages will be all next to each other, and 2,097,152 bytes in size.\n\n mul ecx\n\n\nHere\u2019s that multiplication! mul takes just one argument, which in this case is our ecx counter, and multiplies that by eax, storing the result in eax. This will be the location of the next page.\n\n or eax, 0b10000011\n\n\nNext up, our friend or. Here, we don\u2019t just or 0b11: we\u2019re also setting another bit. This extra 1 is a \u2018huge page\u2019 bit, meaning that the pages are 2,097,152 bytes. Without this bit, we\u2019d have 4KiB pages instead of 2MiB pages.\n\n mov [p2_table + ecx * 8], eax\n\n\nJust like before, we are now writing the value in eax to a location. But instead of it being just p2_table + 0, we\u2019re adding ecx * 8 Remember, ecx is our loop counter. Each entry is eight bits in size: 0b10000011. So we need to multiply the counter by eight, and then add it to p2_table. Let\u2019s take a closer look: let\u2019s assume p2_table is zero, to make the math easier:\n\np2_table 0 0 0 0 0\necx 0 1 2 3 4\necx * 8 0 8 16 24 32\np2_table + ecx * 8 0 8 16 24 32\n\nWe skip eight spaces each time, so we have room for all eight bits of the page table.\n\nThat\u2019s the body of the loop! Now we need to see if we need to keep looping or not:\n\n inc ecx\ncmp ecx, 512\njne .map_p2_table\n\n\nThe inc instruction increments the register it\u2019s given by one. ecx is our loop counter, so we\u2019re adding to it. Then, we \u2018compare\u2019 with cmp. We\u2019re comparing ecx with 512: we want to map 512 page entries overall. This will give us 512 * 2 mebibytes: one gibibyte of memory. It\u2019s also why we wrote the loop: writing out 512 entries by hand is possible, theoretically, but is not fun. Let\u2019s make the computer do the math for us.\n\nThe jne instruction is short for \u2018jump if not equal\u2019. It checks the result of the cmp, and if the comparison says \u2018not equal\u2019, it will jump to the label we\u2019ve defined. map_p2_table points to the top of the loop.\n\nThat\u2019s it! We\u2019ve written our loop and mapped our second-level page table. Here\u2019s the full code of the loop:\n\n ; point each page table level two entry to a page\nmov ecx, 0 ; counter variable\n.map_p2_table:\nmov eax, 0x200000 ; 2MiB\nmul ecx\nor eax, 0b10000011\nmov [p2_table + ecx * 8], eax\n\ninc ecx\ncmp ecx, 512\njne .map_p2_table\n\n\nAnd, with this, we\u2019ve now fully mapped our page table! We\u2019re one step closer to being in long mode. Here\u2019s the full code, all in one place:\n\n ; Point the first entry of the level 4 page table to the first entry in the\n; p3 table\nmov eax, p3_table\nor eax, 0b11 ;\nmov dword [p4_table + 0], eax\n\n; Point the first entry of the level 3 page table to the first entry in the\n; p2 table\nmov eax, p2_table\nor eax, 0b11\nmov dword [p3_table + 0], eax\n\n; point each page table level two entry to a page\nmov ecx, 0 ; counter variable\n.map_p2_table:\nmov eax, 0x200000 ; 2MiB\nmul ecx\nor eax, 0b10000011\nmov [p2_table + ecx * 8], eax\n\ninc ecx\ncmp ecx, 512\njne .map_p2_table\n\n\nNow that we\u2019ve done this, we have a valid initial page table. Time to enable paging!\n\n### Enable paging\n\nNow that we have a valid page table, we need to inform the hardware about it. Here\u2019s the steps we need to take:\n\n\u2022 We have to put the address of the level four page table in a special register\n\u2022 set the \u2018long mode bit\u2019\n\u2022 enable paging\n\nThese four steps are not particularly interesting, but we have to do them. First, let\u2019s do the first step:\n\n ; move page table address to cr3\nmov eax, p4_table\nmov cr3, eax\n\n\nSo, this might seem a bit redundant: if we put p4_table into eax, and then put eax into cr3, why not just put p4_table into cr3? As it turns out, cr3 is a special register, called a \u2018control register\u2019, hence the cr. The cr registers are special: they control how the CPU actually works. In our case, the cr3 register needs to hold the location of the page table.\n\nBecause it\u2019s a special register, it has some restrictions, and one of those is that when you mov to cr3, it has to be from another register. So we need the first mov to set p4_table in a register before we can set cr3.\n\nStep one: done!\n\n ; enable PAE\nmov eax, cr4\nor eax, 1 << 5\nmov cr4, eax\n\n\nIn order to set PAE, we need to take the value in the cr4 register and modify it. So first, we mov it into eax, then we use or to change the value. What about 1 << 5? The << is a \u2018left shift\u2019. It might be easier to show you with a table:\n\nvalue\n1 000001\n<< 1 000010\n<< 2 000100\n<< 3 001000\n<< 4 010000\n<< 5 100000\n\nSee how the 1 moves left? So 1 << 5 is 100000 (or 2^5 if you like maths; incidentally 1<<n = 2^n). If you only need to set one bit, this can be easier than writing out 100000 itself, as you don\u2019t need to count the zeroes.\n\nAfter we modify eax to have this bit set, we mov the value back into cr4. PAE has been set! Why is this what you need to do? It just is. The details are not really in the scope of this tutorial.\n\nOkay, so we have step two done. Time for step three: setting the long mode bit:\n\n ; set the long mode bit\nmov ecx, 0xC0000080\nrdmsr\nor eax, 1 << 8\nwrmsr\n\n\nThe rdmsr and wrmsr instructions read and write to a \u2018model specific register\u2019, hence msr. This is just what you have to do to set this up. Again, we won\u2019t get into too much detail, as it\u2019s not very interesting. Boilerplate.\n\nFinally we are all ready to enable paging!\n\n ; enable paging\nmov eax, cr0\nor eax, 1 << 31\nor eax, 1 << 16\nmov cr0, eax\n\n\ncr0 is the register we need to modify. We do the usual \u201cmove to eax, set some bits, move back to the register\u201d pattern. In this case, we set bit 31 and bit 16.\n\nOnce we\u2019ve set these bits, we\u2019re done! Here\u2019s the full code listing:\n\n ; move page table address to cr3\nmov eax, p4_table\nmov cr3, eax\n\n; enable PAE\nmov eax, cr4\nor eax, 1 << 5\nmov cr4, eax\n\n; set the long mode bit\nmov ecx, 0xC0000080\nrdmsr\nor eax, 1 << 8\nwrmsr\n\n; enable paging\nmov eax, cr0\nor eax, 1 << 31\nor eax, 1 << 16\nmov cr0, eax\n\n\n## ... are we in long mode yet?\n\nSo, technically after paging is enabled, we are in long mode. But we\u2019re not in real long mode; we\u2019re in a special compatibility mode. To get to real long mode, we need a data structure called a \u2018global descriptor table\u2019. Read the next section to find out how to make one of these.","date":"2017-08-16 21:40:52","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 1, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.4586447775363922, \"perplexity\": 2011.338005446213}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2017-34\/segments\/1502886102663.36\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20170816212248-20170816232248-00060.warc.gz\"}"}
| null | null |
Review of "The Politics of Nation-Building: Making Co-Nationals, Refugees, and Minorities" by Harris Mylonas.
Citation: Karakatsanis, Neovi. "Review of The Politics of Nation-Building: Making Co-Nationals, Refugees, and Minorities by Harris Mylonas." Journal of Modern Greek Studies 32:1 (2014).
A review of the book "The Politics of Nation-Building: Making Co-Nationals, Refugees, and Minorities" by Harris Mylonas, published by Cambridge University Press in 2012. The book explores the conditions under which states decide to target "non-core groups," defining such non-core groups as "any aggregation of individuals that is perceived as an unassimilated ethnic group (on a linguistic, religious, physical, or ideological basis)." Mylonas sets out to determine when such groups will be targeted with assimilation, accommodation (the extension of minority status), or exclusionary policies (including population exchanges, deportations, and mass killings) by the host state in which they reside, with the idea that external involvement drives the mobilization and politicization of the non-core group, the host state's perception of it and, ultimately, the host state's policies toward it.
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{
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Dies ist eine Liste der Gemeinden in San Marino
San Marino ist in neun eigenständige Gemeinden, "Castelli", unterteilt.
Hauptstadt des Landes ist San Marino (Città di San Marino), die bevölkerungsreichste Gemeinde ist Serravalle mit Einwohnern (Stand: 29. Februar 2020).
Die neun Gemeindebezirke sind weiter untergliedert in 43 Curazie, die den frazioni in Italien entsprechen und ihrerseits mehrere Weiler und Einzelsiedlungen umfassen können.
In der folgenden Tabelle sind die neun Gemeinden mit den statistischen Daten und den Ergebnissen der offiziellen Schätzungen von (jeweils 31. Dezember) 1986, 1996, 2006, 2008, 2012, 2014 und 2019 aufgeführt (Reihenfolge nach Einwohnerzahl).
Siehe auch
Liste der Städtelisten nach Ländern
Weblinks
Demografie beim san-marinesischen Statistikamt
Segreteria di Stato per gli Affari Esteri e Politici (entspricht dem Außenministerium)
City Population – Historische Einwohnerzahlen der Gemeinden in San Marino
!
!
San Marino
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{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaWikipedia"
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Vega is one of 18 parishes (administrative divisions) in Aller, a municipality within the province and autonomous community of Asturias, in northern Spain.
The altitude is above sea level. It is in size with a population of 191 (INE 2011).
Villages
Escobio
Fornos
Levinco
Vega
References
Parishes in Aller
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{
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0November 3, 2014Bringing the (Heat) Thunder to Doylestown.
0August 14, 2014WIN FREE TICKETS: Commonwealth Choir, Air is Human, Shorty Boy Boy and More @ The TLA on Friday!
0August 4, 2014Commonwealth Choir, Caitlin Rose, Strand of Oaks and More @ The XPoNential Fest (Day 2).
0March 27, 2014Air Is Human @ Ortlieb's, with Commonwealth Choir.
0March 21, 2014Sofar Philly: Sounds From A Room.
0January 17, 2014WIN FREE TICKETS: Communion with Commonwealth Choir, Cruiser and More @ Underground Arts on 2/6!
1December 26, 2013Five Amazing Music Experiences of 2013.
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Pinkeltje is een kinderboekenreeks van de Nederlandse schrijver Dick Laan met in de hoofdrol het gelijknamige personage. Het eerste boek, De avonturen van Pinkeltje, verscheen in 1939. Dick Laan schreef in totaal 29 boeken, waarvan er vier pas verschenen na de dood van Laan in 1973. De illustraties in deze boeken zijn van de hand van Rein van Looy. In 1978 verscheen de op deze boekenreeks gebaseerde speelfilm Pinkeltje in de bioscoop. Later verschenen er prentenboeken, geschreven door Corrie Hafkamp, Mariska Hammerstein, Francesca van der Steen en Imme Dros. Dros bewerkte ook de film tot een boek. De tekeningen in de prentenboeken waren voornamelijk van Dagmar Stam en Wilbert van der Steen. Vanaf 1995 hertaalde Suzanne Braam de boeken van Laan. In deze versies zijn de illustraties van Julius Ros. Sinds 2014 wordt de reeks weer verder gezet onder het pseudoniem Studio Dick Laan met als illustrator Arne van der Ree. In totaal verschenen er 35 leesboeken, 38 prentenboeken en een paar omnibussen.
Inhoud
Het verhaal draait rond een fictief mannetje dat Pinkeltje heet. Dat is een soort mensachtige zo groot als een pink. Pinkeltje heeft een witte baard en een puntmuts. Hij is echter geen kabouter.
De eerste delen spelen zich af in een huis in Nederland, waar Pinkeltje in een muizenhol onder een kast woont, samen met vijf muizen: Knabbeltje, Grijshuidje, Zwartsnoetje, Kraaloogje en Langstaartje. Dat huis wordt ook bewoond door een vader, een moeder, een jongen en twee meisjes (allemaal naamloos). In het huis wonen ook de kat Snorrebaard, de goudvis Goudhuidje, de spin Zilverdraad en vanaf het tweede boek ook een hondje genaamd Wiebelstaart. Pinkeltje kent ook dieren uit die buurt, zoals de kraai Wipstaart en de vlieg Brommer. De mensen weten niet af van het bestaan van Pinkeltje, behalve meneer Dick Laan zelf die vanaf het tweede boek meespeelt wanneer Pinkeltje zijn avonturen aan hem vertelt waarna Laan ze opschrijft.
Later spelen de boeken zich af in het fictieve land Pinkeltjesland of tussen Nederland en dat fictieve land. Zo leert Pinkeltje het wolkenmannetje Wolkewietje kennen, dat zo groot is als een arm en boven op de wolken woont. In Pinkeltjesland krijgt Pinkeltje een vrouw genaamd Pinkelotje. Later wordt een andere Pinkel, Speurneus genaamd, ook een belangrijk personage.
Pinkeltjesland bestaat uit drie rijken. Pinkeltjesland zelf wordt geregeerd door koning Pinkelpracht. In het land liggen de plaatsen Goudentorenstad, Zilvertorendorp en Zeedorp. In de Pinkeltjeszee regeert koning Neptunus. De ondergrondse stad Ururu wordt bewoond door een groep Pinkels, de Urukezen, die geleid wordt door een naamloze hoofdman.
Geschiedenis
Voorgeschiedenis: Promena Boon
De cineast Dick Laan begon in 1930 met het schrijven van kinderboeken. Tot 1934 werkte Laan in het familiebedrijf Crok & Laan, waarna hij ging werken voor Promena Boon. Het personage Pinkeltje ontstond doordat hij verhalen verzon om voor te lezen voor zijn neefjes en nichtjes. Dick Laan maakte ook een reclamefilm voor Promena Boon. Pinkeltje verscheen eind jaren dertig voor het eerst op de verpakking van verscheidene door Promena Boon geproduceerde chocoladedozen.
Dick Laan: Het grote huis (1939-1956)
In 1939 verscheen het eerste boek, De avonturen van Pinkeltje, geschreven door Laan en met tekeningen van Dokie van Amstel. Het boek werd uitgeven bij Van Holkema & Warendorf. Vervolgens brak de Tweede Wereldoorlog uit, waarin Laan tijdelijk geen boeken meer schreef. Na de oorlog verscheen in 1948 een tweede druk van hetzelfde boek, maar de tekeningen werden vervangen door die van E.M. ten Harmsen. Een jaar later, in 1949, schreef Dick Laan op verzoek van de uitgeverij het vervolg Pinkeltje en zijn vriendjes, dat werd geïllustreerd door Froukje van der Meer. In 1950 verscheen het derde boek, Pinkeltje op reis, met opnieuw illustraties van E.M. ten Harmsen. Vanaf het vierde boek, Pinkeltje in Artis uit 1952, werden de tekeningen verzorgd door Rein van Looy. De boeken waren origineel hardcovers met een stofomslag. Later werden dit geplastificeerde boeken met een gele omslag. Vanaf de jaren vijftig is Pinkeltje ook te horen in verscheidene hoorspelen op de radio.
In de vroege boeken concentreren zijn (onschuldige) avonturen zich in Het grote huis. Om dit stramien te doorbreken, concentreren de boeken zich soms op bekende plaatsen, zoals de dierentuin Artis en Madurodam. Pinkeltje in Madurodam bevat foto's die de schrijver in Madurodam maakte. Ook ontmoet Pinkeltje verscheidene mythische figuren zoals Sinterklaas, de kerstman, de paashaas en Klaas Vaak. Hoewel Pinkeltje altijd behulpzaam en vriendelijk is voor iedereen, vertoont hij zich nooit aan mensen, omdat hij niet weet of hij ze kan vertrouwen. De belangrijkste uitzondering is Meneer Dick Laan zelf, aan wie Pinkeltje zijn avonturen vertelt. Ook Sinterklaas blijkt zeer betrouwbaar te zijn. Pinkeltje wordt expliciet een klein mannetje genoemd in plaats van een kabouter. Dick Laan schrijft zijn boeken met veel verkleinwoorden en verzuchtingen. Laan schrijft zijn verhalen zo begrijpelijk mogelijk voor kinderen. Hij vermijdt zelfs verwijswoorden om verwarring te vermijden. De boeken zijn bedoeld om uit voorgelezen te worden.
Dick Laan: Pinkeltjesland (1957-1977)
In het achtste boek gaat Pinkeltje op reis naar Pinkeltjesland, dat dient als thematische overgang in de serie. Vervolgens verschijnt in 1957 het boek Pinkeltje en de flonkersteen en concentreren de boeken zich rond het fictieve Pinkeltjesland. Pinkeltje krijgt in het boek ook een vrouw: Pinkelotje. Ook wordt zijn volledige naam (Pinkeltje Witbaard) onthuld, daar hij nu soortgenoten heeft. De enige dieren in Pinkeltjesland zijn insecten en spinnen, waardoor zij grotendeels de rol van de andere dieren in de boeken overnemen. Pinkeltjesland heeft zowel feodale elementen, zoals een absolute vorst, als moderne elementen, zoals telefoons en auto's. Pinkeltje krijgt bij problemen van de koning een absolute bevoegdheid om diens problemen op te lossen, daar hij veel heeft geleerd bij de mensen.
De uitbreiding van personages en het inwisselen van het grote huis voor een leven in Pinkeltjesland waren noodzakelijk om de reeks niet uit te putten. De illustraties van de boeken blijven van de hand van Rein van Looy en Dick Laan is nog steeds de schrijver. De boeken zijn nog altijd geplastificeerd boeken met een gele omslag.
In 1958 kwam het boek Pinkeltje ontmoet Wolkewietje uit. Dat boek was bedoeld als overgang naar een nieuwe serie met Wolkewietje in de hoofdrol. In het boek gaat Pinkeltje terug naar Nederland, waar hij vaststelt dat al zijn vrienden heel wat ouder geworden zijn. Pinkeltje zal niet meer in Het grote huis wonen. Wolkewietje helpt Pinkeltje om Nederland te bezoeken, maar later neemt de autoraket die functie over. Er verschenen trouwens inderdaad enkele boeken met Wolkewietje in de hoofdrol, maar al gauw draait de serie weer rond Pinkeltje die zijn avonturen in Pinkeltjesland en de wereld beleeft. De boeken met Wolkewietje in de hoofdrol werden later opgenomen in deze serie.
Vanaf de jaren zestig kwam er kritiek op deze boekenreeks, onder andere vanwege het te simpele taalgebruik en de rol van de vrouw Pinkelotje. Onder anderen Woosje Wasser verzette zich in het feministische blad Sekstant tegen de traditionele rol van vrouwen in de boeken. Laan had dit nooit zo bedoeld en reageerde verbaasd. Toch krijgt Pinkelotje een grotere rol in de verhalen. In 1967 speelt ze zelfs de hoofdrol in het negentiende boek Het grote avontuur van Pinkelotje. Ondanks de kritiek van de volwassenen, bleef Dick Laan met veel verkleinwoorden en verzuchtingen schrijven. Ook de voorspelbaarheid van de verhalen stoorde de critici.
In 1971 verscheen het boek Pinkeltje en 10 spannende verhalen, waar Pinkeltje verhalen uit Het grote huis vertelt die hij eerder vergeten was. Toch komt er nog een uitbreiding van de achtergrond en personages in Pinkeltje. Hij ontpopt zich in 1972 tot een detective in het boek Pinkeltje en het gestolen toverboek. In dit boek wordt het personage Speurneus geïntroduceerd. Speurneus helpt Pinkeltje om misdaden op te lossen.
Op 6 oktober 1973 stierf Dick Laan. Vier Pinkeltjeboeken van zijn hand verschenen postuum. In die boeken speelt het personage Speurneus nog een grote rol. De laatste vier boeken werden echter niet in de juiste volgorde uitgegeven: het boek Pinkeltje en de Bibelebonse pap (boek 28) speelt zich af vóór het boek Pinkeltje op zoek naar de maandiamant (boek 27). Het laatste boek, Pinkeltje op zoek naar de vurige ogen, verscheen in 1977.
Dick Laans verhalen verschenen intussen ook in het tijdschrift Libelle met illustraties van Corrie Hafkamp. Tot en met 1994 werden de boeken van Dick Laan vrij letterlijk herdrukt. De meeste titels werden meer dan 25 keer herdrukt. Met die inkomsten hiervan kon Van Holkema & Warendorf makkelijker boeken uitgeven van nieuwe auteurs zoals Jan Terlouw, Carry Slee en Imme Dros.
Harrie Geelen-Imme Dros (1975-1978)
In 1975 schreef Imme Dros een prentenboek op basis van de boeken van Dick Laan met tekeningen van Toonder Studio's. Destijds werkte de echtgenoot van Dros, Harrie Geelen, voor Toonder. Hij illustreerde heel wat van haar boeken.
In 1978 schreef en regisseerde Geelen op verzoek van Cinénews de Nederlandse langspeelfilm Pinkeltje. De film is niet gebaseerd op een specifiek boek, er werd een nieuw verhaal voor de film geschreven. Pinkeltje werd vervolgens zelfs het eerste Nederlandse product dat veel merchandising-producten krijgt.
In datzelfde jaar bewerkte Dros de film tot een gewoon boek. De illustraties van dit boek zijn van Rein van Looy, die eerder de boeken van Dick Laan illustreerde.
Vervolgens plande de NCRV in 1979 een televisieserie bestaande uit 13 afleveringen als vervolg op de film, maar deze plannen werden afgevoerd vanwege te hoge kosten.
Latere bewerkingen en hertaling
Corrie Hafkamp (1982-1989)
Corrie Hafkamp illustreerde al eerder de verhalen van Dick Laan in het Nederlandse tijdschrift Libelle. Na de dood van Dick Laan, schreef zij vanaf 1981 de verhalen in dat tijdschrift zelf. Dagmar Stam verzorgde de illustraties. Deze verhalen verschenen vanaf 1982 in boekvorm. Na het prentenboek dat Dros al eerder over Pinkeltje schreef, verschenen nu ook prentenboeken met teksten van Hafkamp en tekeningen van Stam.
Hafkamp bewerkt de boeken van Dick Laan door kortere zinnen te schrijven en een minder dominante, moraliserende ondertoon. Critici vinden dit een verbetering ten opzichte van Dick Laan. De verhalen werden ook moderner geschreven. Pinkelotje woont in deze boeken zelfs in een apart huis. Hafkamp schreef naast bewerkingen van bestaande verhalen ook enkele nieuwe verhalen. De weduwe van Dick Laan verbood echter wel nieuwe figuren of dieren in die nieuwe verhalen. Ook de tekenares introduceerde wat nieuws ten opzichte van Van Looy. Ten eerste verschenen de tekeningen in kleur. Pinkeltje valt op deze tekeningen meer op. Het mannetje is ook boller en jonger getekend.
Er verschenen 29 prentenboeken van Hafkamp. Het laatste boek, Pinkeltje wil jarig zijn, verscheen in 1989 vanwege het 50-jarig bestaan van Pinkeltje. Ten slotte werden in 1994 de 29 verhalen gebundeld in een omnibus; Het grote boek van Pinkeltje. Die omnibus is een gewoon boek en bevat minder afbeeldingen.
Hertaling: Suzanne Braam (1995-1999)
Eind de jaren tachtig wilde de uitgeverij de boeken van Dick Laan laten hertalen. Suzanne Braam schreef een proefversie, maar de weduwe van Dick Laan weigerde waardoor het niet doorging. In 1995 werden de rechten echter beheerd door een ander familielid, dat wel toestemming gaf. Datzelfde jaar begon Braam met het hertalen van de Pinkeltjeboeken. Daarbij maakte zij geen gebruik van eerdere bewerkingen door Hafkamp, maar baseerde zij zich op de oorspronkelijke teksten van Dick Laan. De illustraties zijn van de hand van Julius Ros. De omslag van de boeken veranderde ook. Die is voortaan wit.
Uiteindelijk hertaalde Braam alle 29 boeken van Dick Laan. Bovendien verscheen het boek Pinkeltje: Het verhaal van de film van Imme Dros als nummer 30 in de nieuwe omslag. Ook voor dat boek tekende Ros nieuwe illustraties, maar Braam hertaalde het niet. De laatste nieuwe hertalingen verschenen in 1999. De door Braam hertaalde boeken worden sindsdien herdrukt en vervangen de originele boeken van Dick Laan in de boekhandels.
Braam gebruikt beduidend minder verkleinwoorden dan Laan en maakt de boeken moderner. Pinkelotje krijgt bijvoorbeeld een minder passieve rol.
Hammerstein - van der Steen (1999)
Nadat Dros en Hafkamp al eerder prentenboeken schreven over Pinkeltje, verschenen er in 1999 acht nieuwe prentenboeken. Vier daarvan werden door Mariska Hammerstein geschreven. Francisca van der Steen schreef de andere vier. Alle acht werden geïllustreerd door Wilbert van der Steen. De boeken van Francesca van der Steen verschenen ook gebundeld in een omnibus genaamd Pinkeltje.
Studio Dick Laan (2014-heden)
Sinds 2014, 75 jaar na het verschijnen van het eerste boek, verschijnen er opnieuw nieuwe boeken over Pinkeltje. De boeken worden opnieuw uitgeven bij Van Holkema & Warendorf, dat tegenwoordig een onderdeel is van Unieboek. De schrijver(s) van de boeken wordt door de uitgeverij geheimgehouden en schrijft (schrijven) onder het pseudoniem Studio Dick Laan.
Het eerste boek werd geïllustreerd door de Efteling. Een specifieke illustrator is niet vermeld. Vanaf het tweede boek zijn de tekeningen van de hand van Arne van der Ree. Dit is een freelance-illustrator. De omslag is opnieuw geel, zoals bij de oudere boeken van Dick Laan. Het eerste boek, Pinkeltje in de Efteling, werd uitgeven in samenwerking met de Efteling. Bij de andere boeken is geen samenwerking vermeld.
De boeken spelen zich af in het heden, waardoor de dieren Pinkeltje niet meer kennen. Nieuwe hoofdpersonages zijn Mees Muis en Meneer Raaf, die tot dusverre in alle boeken meespelen. De boeken spelen zich tot nu toe af op toeristische attracties (zoals Dick Laan destijds boeken schreef over Artis en Madurodam) te weten de Efteling, het Rijksmuseum, Dolfinarium Harderwijk, Het Spoorwegmuseum en Diergaarde Blijdorp.
Lijst van boeken
In totaal verschenen er 35 leesboeken, 38 prentenboeken en een paar omnibussen.
Dick Laan schreef 29 leesboeken, die verschenen tussen 1939 en 1977. Corrie Hafkamp schreef 29 prentenboeken, die verschenen tussen 1982 en 1989. Imme Dros schreef een prentenboek dat verscheen in 1975 en een leesboek dat verscheen in 1978. Mariska Hammerstein en Francisca van der Steen schreven in 1999 elk vier prentenboeken. Suzanne Braam hertaalde de boeken van Laan en Dros. Deze hertalingen verschenen tussen 1995 en 1999. Studio Dick Laan schreef tussen 2014 en 2017 vier leesboeken.
Dit is een lijst van boeken in de Pinkeltjeserie, exclusief omnibussen.
Dick Laan en hertaling Suzanne Braam
Harrie Geelen-Imme Dros
Corrie Hafkamp
Mariska Hammerstein
Francisca van der Steen
Studio Dick Laan
Bewerkingen
Film: Pinkeltje (1978)
Pinkeltje is een Nederlandse film uit 1978 geregisseerd en geschreven door Harrie Geelen.
Hoorspelen en luisterboeken
In 1951 werd het hoorspel De avonturen van Pinkeltje uitgezonden op de radiozender Hilversum 2.
Vervolgens verschenen verscheidene grammofoonplaten, die meestal uitgegeven werden door Philips. De verhalen op die platen werden grotendeels verteld door Anny de Lange met liedjes van de Damrakkertjes.
Pinkeltje en de speelgoedauto
Pinkeltje en de luchtballon 1956
Pinkeltje en de piano 1956
Pinkeltje in Madurodam 1962
Pinkeltje in Artis 1963
Pinkeltje zoekt Klaas Vaak 1963
Pinkeltje en de flonkersteen 1963
Pinkeltje op weg naar Artis 1963
Pinkeltje in de speelgoedwinkel
Pinkeltje naar de gelijknamige familiefilm 1978
In 1994 verscheen er een videocassette waarop Lex Goudsmit voorleest uit de omnibus Het grote boek van Pinkeltje, geschreven door Corrie Hafkamp.
In 2007 verschenen er drie luisterboeken waarop Rik Hoogendoorn voorleest uit drie door Suzanne Braam hertaalde boeken.
Rik Hoogendoorn leest De avonturen van Pinkeltje 2007
Rik Hoogendoorn leest Pinkeltje in Artis 2007
Rik Hoogendoorn leest Pinkeltje in Madurodam 2007
Strips
De tekenaar Jan Huizinga schilderde in 1959 gouaches voor stripboeken naar de verhalen van Dick Laan. Deze illustraties werden in 1959 uitgebracht in drie stripboeken. In 2008 werden de albums opnieuw uitgebracht.
Goudhuidje wil de wijde wereld in
Pinkeltje op zoek naar de parels
Pinkeltje vindt de parels
Trivia
In 1956 verscheen de serie Het oude jaar dat wilde blijven op de Nederlandse AVRO. Hierin verscheen een kabouter waarna de kijker de naam van die kabouter mocht kiezen voor een nieuwe televisieserie. De naam van de kabouter werd Tinkeltje. De nieuwe televisieserie Tinkeltje verscheen in 1957. De kabouter verdween echter na 13 afleveringen, waarna de televisieserie herdoopt werd in Varen is fijner dan je denkt. Het personage meneer Leeuwerik kreeg een eigen serie, Het mannetje op zolder, die in 1959 liep. De series werden geschreven door Mies Bouhuys. De kabouternaam Tinkeltje verschilt slechts één letter met Pinkeltje, het hoofdpersonage uit de kinderboekserie, maar heeft er verder niets mee te maken.
Naar aanleiding van het Kinder- en Jeugdboekencongres in Delft in 1963, besloot uitgeverij Van Holkema & Warendorf in 1968 de eerste televisiereclame in Nederland voor een boek(enreeks) te maken. Het 15 seconden durende animatiefilmpje van Pinkeltje werd geproduceerd door Toonder Studio's.
Er werd een ook een kindercircus naar Pinkeltje vernoemd, waarop Laan in 1973 het boek Pinkeltje en het verdwenen kindercircus schreef.
Op 8 maart 1979 werd een van de eerste prototypes van de cd door Philips voorgesteld, die de naam Pinkeltje droeg.
In 1989 waren er zo'n 40 scholen of peuterspeelzalen vernoemd naar Pinkeltje, Pinkelotje of Wolkewietje.
In 2008 ontwierp Dennis Koot een Nederlandse postzegel met een afbeelding van Pinkeltje. Deze postzegel is een onderdeel van de postzegels Plak louter kabouter die op 1 oktober 2008 verschenen. De andere 4 postzegels droegen de afbeeldingen van de kabouters Piggelmee, Wipneus en Pim, Paulus de boskabouter en David de kabouter.
Personage uit boek
Nederlandstalige jeugdboekenreeks
Werk van Dick Laan
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Q: how to retrieve data from database and compare it if there is a match using IF ELSE. VFP 9 how to compare if the data is already exists in database in foxpro 9.
IF(if found)
employee already exist.
ELSE
insert employee into database.
A: Your question is too vague on "already exists". What if you are looking for an employee "John Smith" and coincidentally you are a large organization where there are SEVERAL "John Smith" names employed... Do you have other criteria? Such as a social security number, date of birth info, etc? If so, you could run a query something like.
lookForSSN = "123-45-6789"
use in select( "C_IsOnFile" )
select SomeIDColumn ;
from YourEmployeeTable ;
where SocSecNum = lookForSSN;
into cursor C_IsOnFile
if reccount( "C_IsOnFile" ) = 1
*/ Already on file, you can update it
update YourEmployeeTable;
set FirstName = FirstNameVar,;
LastName = LastNameVar,;
DoB = DoBVar,;
etc = etcVar;
where ;
SSN = lookForSSN
else
*/ Not on file, add it
insert into YourEmployeeTable ;
( FirstName, LastName, DoB, SSN, etc );
values;
( FirstNameVar, LastNameVar, DoBVar, lookForSSN, etcVar )
endif
*/ close temp cursor when finished
use in select( "C_IsOnFile" )
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The 13th annual FYF Fest kicks off in less than two weeks
Published on August 17, 2016 in Music News by Louis Raphael
For San Francisco residents looking to escape for a weekend, the 13th annual FYF Fest kicks off in less than two weeks on Saturday, August 27th at Exposition Park in Los Angeles. The lineup of food vendors that will be serving up delectable sustenance all weekend long. Premiering via Thrillist, See below for the curated list of food vendors in alphabetical order, and scroll down for images of some of the yummy dishes that will be available at this year's FYF.
FYF FOOD VENDORS:
Beer Belly
Donut Friend
Easy's (a concept by Alvin Cailan of Unit 120)
Fritzi Dog
Genghis Cohen
Good Greek Grill
Ike's Place
Mainland Poke
Ramen Hood
Salt & Straw
Sunny Blue
Yeastie Boys
Now in it's 13th year, FYF Fest will feature headlining performances from Kendrick Lamar, LCD Soundsystem, Tame Impala and Grace Jones, with additional performances by Anohni (her first LA performance of HOPELESSNESS), Beach House, Blood Orange, Young Thug, Vince Staples, Grimes, Father John Misty, Rae Sremmurd, and many, many more. Produced in association with Goldenvoice, FYF Fest weekend VIP passes are available for $339, and single-day Sunday passes are available for $125. For all ticketing info and FAQs, please visit http://fyffest.com/.
Festival gates open at 2:00 pm each day. This year, the main entrance is located off of S Vermont Ave. & W Exposition Blvd., with easy walking access from the Expo/Vermont station off the Metro Expo Line. Public transportation is highly encouraged! For more information and to begin planning your trip via Metro, please visit http://metro.net/.
VIP pass holders will have dedicated lanes at the Main Entrance for expedited festival entry, a dedicated VIP viewing area in front of the Main Stage, and a dedicated VIP area on the Lawn. The VIP area will feature food & drink vendors (including beer, wine, spirits and cocktails) as well as plenty of shade and areas to relax. Purchase VIP Passes here.
This year, Long Beach's own Fingerprints Music be running an on-site record store to satisfy your vinyl needs, and Echo Park's Stories will have a curated book store.
Stay tuned for more information including the official FYF Fest app, festival schedule, on site map, and more!
(Mainland Poke, Fritzi Dog)
(Easy's, Genghis Cohen)
(Ramen Hood, Yeastie Boys)
(Good Greek Grill, Beer Belly)
(Sunny Blue, Ike's Place)
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Корреляционная теория Ориона () — маргинальная теория в египтологии.
Согласно этой теории существует корреляция между расположением трёх пирамид Гизы и поясом Ориона созвездия Ориона, и что эта корреляция была задумана как таковая первоначальными строителями комплекса пирамид Гизы. Звёзды Ориона у древних египтян ассоциировались с Осирисом, богом возрождения и загробной жизни. В зависимости от версии теории, дополнительные пирамиды были включены, чтобы завершить картину созвездия Ориона, а река Нил обозначает Млечный Путь. Эта теория была впервые опубликована в 1989 году в книге «Дискуссии в египтологии», том 13. Она была предметом бестселлера «Тайна Ориона» в 1994 году, а также документального фильма Би-би-си «Великая Пирамида: врата к звездам».
История
Корреляционная теория Ориона была выдвинута Робертом Бьювалом, он установил связь между расположением трех главных звёзд в поясе Ориона и расположением трех основных пирамид в комплексе пирамид Гизы. Он опубликовал эту теорию в 1989 году в журнале «Обсуждения в египтологии», том 13. Эта теория была далее изложена Бьювалом в сотрудничестве с Адрианом Гилбертом и Грэмом Хэнкоком. В основе этой теории лежит предположение о том, что относительное положение трех основных древнеегипетских пирамид на плато Гиза было по замыслу коррелировано с относительным положением трех звезд в созвездии Ориона.
Их первоначальные идеи относительно расположения пирамид Гизы позже объединяются с предположениями о возрасте Большого Сфинкса. Согласно этим работам, Большой Сфинкс был построен около 10 500 г. до н. э., а его образ в виде льва считается окончательной ссылкой на созвездие Льва. Более того, ориентация и расположение Сфинкса, пирамид Гизы и реки Нил относительно друг друга на земле выдвигается как точное отражение созвездий Льва, Ориона и Млечного Пути соответственно. Как пишет Хэнкок в книге «Тайна Марса» 1998 года (в соавторстве с Бьювалом):
… мы продемонстрировали с большим количеством доказательств, что узор из звёзд, который передан на земле в виде трёх пирамид Гизы и Сфинкса, представляет собой расположение созвездий Ориона и Льва в момент восхода солнца во время весеннего равноденствия астрономической «Эры Льва». Как и во всех предварениях равноденствий, этот период длился 2160 лет. Считается, что по григорианскому календарю он выпал между 10 970 и 8 810 г. до н. э.
Египтология и археология утверждают, что имеющиеся свидетельства указывают на то, что пирамиды Гизы были построены в период четвертой династии (3-е тысячелетие до н. э.), в то время как точная дата постройки Великого Сфинкса до сих пор неясна. Хэнкок не оспаривает свидетельство датировки существующих в настоящее время пирамид, но вместо этого утверждает, что они могли быть архитектурной эволюцией, происхождение и культурное значение которых датируется примерно восемью тысячами лет до того, как были построены нынешние памятники.
Критика
Аргументы, сделанные Хэнкоком, Бьювалом, Уэстом и другими относительно важности предложенных корреляций, были описаны как форма псевдоархеологии.
Среди них — критические замечания двух астрономов, Эда Круппа из обсерватории Гриффита в Лос-Анджелесе и Тони Файролла из Кейптаунского университета, Южная Африка. Используя оборудование планетария, Крупп и Файралл независимо исследовали угол между выравниванием пояса Ориона и севера в эпоху, указанную Хэнкоком, Баувалом и др. Они обнаружили, что угол несколько отличался от идеального совпадения, которое, как считали Бьювал и Хэнкок, существовало в корреляционной теории Ориона. Согласно измерениям в планетарии, они оценивают 47-50 градусов по сравнению с углом в 38 градусов, образованным пирамидами.
Большой Сфинкс
Большой Сфинкс — это огромная статуя с лицом человека и телом льва. Высеченная из известняковой породы, она имеет 57 метров в длину, 6 метров в ширину и высоту 20 метров, что делает её самой большой однокаменной статуей в мире. Большой Сфинкс — одна из самых больших и древних статуй в мире, однако основные факты о ней, такие как реальная модель лица, когда и почему она была построена и кем, до сих пор неизвестны. Эти вопросы в совокупности получили название «загадка Сфинкса».
Большой Сфинкс, по общему мнению египтологов, представляет собой подобие царя Хафры, которому часто приписывают также роль создателя статуи. Таким образом, время строительства находилось где-то между 2520 и 2494 годами до нашей эры. Поскольку ограниченные свидетельства, подтверждающие происхождение Хафры, неоднозначны, идея о том, кто построил Сфинкса и когда, продолжает оставаться предметом споров. Аргумент, выдвинутый Бовалем и Хэнкоком в поддержку корреляционной теории Ориона, состоит в том, что строительство Сфинкса было начато в 10 500 году до н. э., а лапы льва Сфинкса является окончательной ссылкой на созвездие Льва, а расположение и ориентация Сфинкса, комплекса пирамид Гизы и реки Нил являются точным отражением или так называемой картой созвездий Льва, Ориона (в частности, Пояса Ориона) и Млечного Пути соответственно.
Дата 10 500 лет до н. э. была выбрана потому, что это единственное время в предварениях равноденствий, когда астрологическим веком был Лев и когда это созвездие поднялось прямо к востоку от Сфинкса в день весеннего равноденствия. Они также предполагают, что в эту эпоху углы между тремя звездами Пояса Ориона и горизонтом точно совпадали с углами между тремя главными пирамидами Гизы. Эти положения и другие теории используются для поддержки общей веры в развитую и древнюю, но ныне исчезнувшую глобальную цивилизацию.
Теория о том, что Сфинкс на самом деле намного старше, получила некоторую поддержку со стороны геологов. Роберт Шох утверждал, что воздействие водной эрозии на Сфинкса и его окружение означает, что части памятника должны были быть первоначально вырезаны между 7000 и 5000 годами до нашей эры. Колин Ридер предложил дату всего за несколько сотен лет до общепринятой даты строительства. Эти взгляды были почти повсеместно отвергнуты основными египтологами, которые вместе с рядом геологов, включая Джеймса Харрелла, Лала Гаури, Джона Синая и Джаянту Бандьопадхьяя, придерживаются общепринятой датировки памятника. Их анализы объясняют явно ускоренный износ Сфинкса различными причинами: современным промышленным загрязнением, качественными различиями между слоями известняка в самом памятнике, соскабливанием принесённого ветром песка или температурными изменениями, вызывающими треск камня.
Примечания
Ссылки
«The Giza Pyramids as a Stellar Representation of Orion's Belt» by Robert Bauval
«The Orion Correlation and Air-Shaft Theories» by John A.R. Legon
«Pyramid Marketing Schemes» by E. C. Krupp
«The Fundamental Flaws in the Orion-Giza Correlation Theory» by Ian Lawton
Орион (созвездие)
Плато Гиза
Псевдоистория
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# OTHER BOOKS IN THE _Murder, She Wrote_ SERIES __
_Manhattans & Murder_
_Rum & Razors_
_Brandy & Bullets_
_Martinis & Mayhem_
_A Deadly Judgment_
_A Palette for Murder_
_The Highland Fling Murders_
_Murder on the_ QE2 __
_Murder in Moscow_
_A Little Yuletide Murder_
_Murder at the Powderhorn Ranch_
_Knock 'Em Dead_
_Gin & Daggers_
_Trick or Treachery_
_Blood on the Vine_
_Murder in a Minor Key_
_Provence—To Die For_
_You Bet Your Life_
_Majoring in Murder_
_Destination Murder_
_Dying to Retire_
_A Vote for Murder_
_The Maine Mutiny_
_Margaritas & Murder_
_A Question of Murder_
_Coffee, Tea, or Murder?_
_Three Strikes and You're Dead_
_Panning for Murder_
_Murder on Parade_
_A Slaying in Savannah_
_Madison Avenue Shoot_
_A Fatal Feast_
_Nashville Noir_
_The Queen's Jewels_
_Skating on Thin Ice_
_The Fine Art of Murder_
_Trouble at High Tide_
_Domestic Malice_
_Prescription for Murder_
_Close-up on Murder_
# __
_Aloha Betrayed_
A _Murder, She Wrote_ Mystery
A Novel by Jessica Fletcher & Donald Bain
Based on the Universal Television series created by Peter S. Fischer, Richard Levinson & William Link
AN OBSIDIAN MYSTERY
# OBSIDIAN
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) LLC, 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014
USA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia | New Zealand | India | South Africa | China
penguin.com
A Penguin Random House Company
First published by Obsidian, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC
Copyright © 2014 Universal City Studios Productions LLLP. _Murder, She Wrote_ is a trademark and copyright of Universal Studios. Licensed by NBCUniversal Television Consumer Products Group 2014.
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
OBSIDIAN and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:
Fletcher, Jessica.
Aloha betrayed: a Murder, she wrote mystery: a novel/by Jessica Fletcher, Donald Bain.
pages cm
"Based on the Universal Television series created by Peter S. Fischer, Richard Levinson & William Link."
ISBN 978-0-698-13727-1
1. Fletcher, Jessica—Fiction. 2. Women novelists—Fiction. I. Bain, Donald, author. II. Murder, she wrote (Television program) III. Title.
PS3552.A376A68 2014
813'.54—dc23 2013043479
PUBLISHER'S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
# Contents
_Other Books in the_ Murder, She Wrote _Series_
_Title page_
_Copyright page_
_Acknowledgments_
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
# ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many people graciously provided us with insight into the unique and lovely Hawaiian island of Maui while we were researching _Aloha Betrayed_ , __ and we're grateful to all of them. Becoming conversant in the Hawaiian language wasn't easy; thank you to those who patiently guided us through it.
Officer Edith Quintero, the community relations officer for the Maui Police Department, gave us considerable time and shared her expertise about how the Maui PD operates. If we've taken some liberties with her information, we apologize in advance.
Bill Countryman, cluster general manager of the stunning Wailea Beach Marriott Resort and Spa, not only manages a first-rate resort on Maui; he went out of his way to make our research trip there fruitful and pleasant. Thank you, Bill. And thanks to Bill's delightful assistant, Keo.
John Finnegan, former New York City detective, now working loss prevention at the Wailea Beach Marriott Resort and Spa, introduced us to the legendary Mike Casicas, former Maui detective, who inspired us to create Mike Kane and who shared a wealth of information about his policing experience on Maui. As both detectives pointed out, there are virtually no murders on the island—although now that Jessica has visited, a dead body is sure to turn up.
And a final shout-out to all the warm and wonderful people we met while on Maui. We thank them all and ask their forbearance for any errors. Just a note: We have taken artistic liberties with parts of Maui geography for the sake of the story, but we promise the island truly is a paradise, and we departed immersed in the "aloha spirit."
# _Chapter One_
Aloha—Hawaiian Greeting That Can Mean "Hello"
"Look at the enemy _._ It looks beautiful, doesn't it? But it, like the shiny red apple handed to Snow White, is poisonous. Touch the sap and it will burn you. Ingest it and its cardiac glycosides will impede your heart function. Breathe in the powdery fumes of the dry, dead vine and it will induce a violent cough. Yet some gardeners still insist on planting _Cryptostegia grandiflora_ as an ornamental."
Mala Kapule tapped a key on her laptop and the image of the flower projected on the wall disappeared. "So this is your assignment for the weekend. Take your camera, your cell phone, your tablet, and look into your neighbors' yards. Don't tell them I said to."
I laughed along with the rest of class.
"You're looking for _Cryptostegia grandiflora_ , also known as the Malay rubber vine. Look for pink buds and white flowers with a pink throat. Look for the glossy leaves set opposite each other on the stem. But do not touch it! Just fill out the report for the Maui Invasive Species Committee, the same as you did for the Madagascan ragwort or fireweed. See the handout for more instructions."
A buzzer sounded and Mala's students gathered their papers and filed out of the room. One tall young man lingered near her desk, perhaps hoping for a moment of private attention. He stooped over so that his head was closer to hers.
"Not now, Dale," I heard her say. "We can discuss it on Monday."
Dale scowled at her. "You're always putting me off."
"Perhaps you should think about why that is," his young professor replied, stuffing her briefcase with the extra handouts left on her desk. "Now, please excuse me."
She aimed a wide smile in my direction and came forward with her right arm extended. "Mrs. Fletcher, I'd know you anywhere. What a surprise to see you here. I heard you were coming, but I didn't expect you to slip into the back of my classroom." She pumped my hand.
"I hope I didn't disturb the lesson," I said, returning her smile.
"Not at all. How is Dr. Hazlitt? Charming as ever?"
"He would blush to hear you say that," I replied.
Mala chuckled. "Uncle Barrett said that Seth Hazlitt was the crabbiest fellow in their class at medical school, but also the best diagnostician."
"I don't doubt it," I said, "about being a superb diagnostician. But Seth really isn't crabby. He just doesn't suffer fools easily."
"Uncle Barrett was the same way."
"I was sorry to hear about your uncle," I said.
Mala's expression turned wistful. "He was a marvelous man. I think I disappointed him in choosing botany over medicine, but he always graciously included me when he boasted about the _scientists_ in the family."
"As well he should. I understand that you're in line for chair of the department."
"That was Uncle Barrett's idea, not mine." Mala walked with me down the hallway of the one-story building. "It's never going to happen. Even forgetting my political views—which they won't—there's a lot of competition in the college's horticultural department. The landscaping specialists have an edge. My specialty, invasive species, doesn't have the snob appeal of aquaponics and xeriscaping."
"I'll take your word for it," I said through a laugh, "but you're speaking a different language."
"Aquaponics is a fancy term for a kind of agriculture that grows fish and plants in the same pond, and xeriscaping is simply landscaping with drought-resistant plants," she said, pulling a pair of sunglasses from her handbag and putting them on. "The climate on Maui is variable depending upon where you are on the island. It's a challenge for landscapers to match plants to the conditions, which gives them a chance to show off."
"But such variety must be rewarding for botanists, too." We pushed through the doors to the outside, where I also donned sunglasses.
"There's certainly a lot to keep us busy," she replied. "Do you have time for a cup of coffee? They're featuring Kona at the café today."
"I'd love it."
I had arrived in Hawaii the day before, a guest of the Maui Police Department, to teach a class on community involvement in criminal investigations. My co-teacher was a retired Maui detective and local legend. Since it is the rare government that will pay for a mystery writer's opinion, my expenses had been defrayed by a foundation dedicated to bringing in speakers "to broaden the vision of police recruits and encourage the application of creative thinking to solving crime." At least that's what the invitation letter had stated as its goal.
I was hesitant at first, not certain what I could contribute to the education of future police officers since the field had changed so drastically with the integration of technology into forensics. Besides, it had been a good many years since I'd taught criminology in Manhattan. But Seth Hazlitt, my dear friend and Cabot Cove's favorite physician, had convinced me to accept.
"Anyone wants to give me a free trip to Hawaii, I'd be a fool not to take it," he'd said with the lack of subtlety for which he's renowned.
Since I was between books, and with the added incentive of Seth's insistence that I look up his medical school buddy, I had accepted the challenge to conduct a class on community involvement in police investigations. Unfortunately, Barrett Kapule, Mala's uncle and Seth's old friend, had died the month before my arrival, and Seth had asked me to deliver a condolence letter he'd written to the family. I hadn't done it yet, wanting to wait for the appropriate time.
Mala and I entered the bustling campus café and found an unoccupied table. She insisted on getting the coffee and I gratefully accepted. The ten-and-a-half-hour trip to Honolulu from New York's John F. Kennedy Airport was catching up to me, not counting the travel time it had taken me to get to New York from my home in Cabot Cove, Maine, on one end of the trip and the connecting flight to Maui from the Hawaiian capital on the other. Although I'd slept well the night I arrived, my body wasn't certain what time zone it was in, nor was my brain.
"Is this your first trip to Hawaii?" Mala asked when she'd returned to our table carrying a tray with two mugs.
"Ooh, that smells wonderful," I said, taking one of them. "I've been to Hawaii a couple of times, but not in recent years. The last time, I was returning to the States from a book tour in Japan and stopped off in Honolulu for a vacation. This time, it's a working trip, but I'm looking forward to exploring the island between classes. May I count on you for suggestions of special places to see?"
Mala laughed. "Try to stop me. There are so many beautiful and interesting things to see here. Do you have a car?"
I smiled at her over the rim of my mug. "I'm afraid I don't drive."
"Really?"
"I've never gotten around to it, which never fails to amuse my friends back home. I do have a pilot's license, though, but that won't do me much good."
"Not driving may prove a little tricky, but I'm sure we can fix you up with some form of transportation. I have a cousin who drives a cab."
"I can ride a bike," I said. "In fact, I biked over here from the resort where I'm staying."
She looked me up and down.
"What is it?"
"I don't want to offend you."
"How can you offend me?"
"There is a famous bike excursion, but it's not for the faint of heart."
"I'm listening."
"Tour companies host a sunrise trip up the Haleakala volcano and offer bicycles to those brave enough to ride down. It's pretty harrowing biking on those twisting roads. Think you might be up for that?"
I took a sip of the aromatic coffee and stifled a yawn. "Not today or tomorrow," I said with a wink, "but maybe later in the week."
Mala's silvery laugh had several students turning to see to whom it belonged.
She was a beautiful woman with thick black hair pulled back into a low ponytail and deep brown eyes that tilted up when she smiled, which was often. I estimated her to be in her mid-thirties, but with her smooth skin and delicate build, she could have passed for a student instead of a teacher. It was her manner, however, that gave her age away. She held herself confidently and ignored the appreciative glances sent her way. She assumed that people were interested in her because of what she had to say rather than her looks, which only enhanced her attraction. To be fair to her admirers, perhaps it was a little bit of both.
Seth had shown me some of Barrett's e-mail messages to him extolling Mala's intelligence and the contributions she made, not only to the college but also to the community, through her activism on the ecological front. While she'd rattled a few commercial cages—nurseries that insisted on selling plants she considered a threat to the native vegetation—her latest project, and the one that raised the most controversy, was her opposition to a new telescope being built atop Haleakala.
With the University of Hawaii firmly in the "pro" column for the telescope, Mala had offended the powers that be by siding with a group of Hawaiians who argued that the construction not only jeopardized the ecological balance of the mountain, but also threatened to have a devastating impact on the dormant volcano, a _wahi pana_ , or sacred site, a cultural touchstone for the Hawaiian people. Mala's contrary stance notwithstanding, her uncle Barrett was certain the university would recognize and reward her brilliance.
"Speaking of Haleakala," I said, "is that controversial telescope project still going forward?"
"Unfortunately, yes. I have a meeting next week on what our next steps should be. What do you know about it?"
"Not very much, only what your uncle Barrett passed along to Seth Hazlitt."
"Are you interested? Maybe you'd like to join us," she said eagerly. "We can always use an extra voice, especially one as articulate as yours."
"It's nice of you to say, but I don't see what help I could provide, not being knowledgeable about the topic or its history. You certainly wouldn't want this voice to say the wrong thing."
"No, I wouldn't. But somehow I don't think you would expound about a subject you don't know. You're not opposed to the idea of learning more about it, are you?"
"No, of course not. I'm always interested in new things."
"I hope you won't be sorry you said that," Mala said, laughing as she pulled her briefcase back into her lap. "I get furious e-mails from people who object to what I'm doing. Next thing you know, there'll be death threats."
"Oh, my, is it as bad as that?"
"I'm afraid so. It's an emotional issue." She opened a side pocket and withdrew a large envelope containing a sheaf of papers. "This is your basic course in Haleakala's Science City." She handed me the envelope. "If nothing else, it should help you get to sleep at night."
"I don't think getting to sleep is going to be a problem," I said. "Staying awake is another matter altogether."
"When you're well rested," Mala said, "I'll give you a list of things you might like to do while you're here, other than tag along with me to meetings. You certainly want to attend a luau."
"I'm going to one tonight."
"In Wailea?"
"I believe so."
"Wonderful! Another cousin is one of the dancers. Perhaps I'll see you there. It depends on the outcome of my next meeting." She looked at her watch.
"Am I holding you up?"
"Not at all. I have a little time yet, but if I get there early, I may be able to sneak in ahead of the appointment before mine. My competition for the department chair wants to meet with me." She made a face. "Dreadful man. It should be interesting."
We left the café and walked back toward the horticulture building.
"Where will you be teaching?" Mala asked.
"The college has given us a classroom in one of the buildings near the police station," I replied. "We start tomorrow. I stopped there today to introduce myself to the other instructor who'll be teaching with me."
"Oh, and who is that?"
"Detective Mike Kane. When I told him I was going to look for your class, he said he'd heard great things about you. Do you know his name?"
"Of course," Mala said with a grin. "It's a small island. Everyone knows everyone."
"How is that possible? There must be more than a hundred thousand people living here, not counting the tourists."
"I think it's closer to a hundred fifty thousand now," she said. "And maybe saying everyone knows everyone is a bit of an exaggeration. We don't know the seasonal workers, of course. Not many of the kids who come to work in hotels and restaurants stay long enough or interact with the locals enough to become familiar. And I couldn't say we know all the retirees who've decided to live out the rest of their lives on our golf courses. But for those of us whose families have been here for generations, we all know or at least know _of_ each other."
"Detective Kane is a Native Hawaiian?"
"We don't use the word 'native.' His father was, or at least has Hawaiian in his background, but Mike is also a _kahuna_ , a big shot. I don't know how many times he's been written up in the local paper. But I thought he was retired."
"He's retired from the police department," I said. "Now he works in hotel security, but he calls it something else."
"Loss prevention," she said, chuckling and shaking her head. "The hotels in the islands don't want you to think there's any crime here, so they renamed their security offices. It's still the place you go to report if anything's missing."
"Yes, that's the term. But I understand he also consults for the police department."
"I'm sure he does. He's famous. Probably every young police officer with a puzzling case shows up on his doorstep looking for advice."
"Well, now they'll get a chance to pick his brain in a formal setting," I said. "I'm looking forward to what I can learn from him as well."
"And he must be thrilled to have a famous writer to work with."
We had stopped outside an impressive concrete and steel building with a turquoise roof, on top of which were solar panels and small white wind turbines rotating in the breeze. A sign outside said 'IKE LE'A, which I later learned means "to see clearly."
"This is the new science building," Mala said. "My appointment is in here." She smiled softly. "I'm so happy you're here. Uncle Barrett would have loved to meet you."
"And I would have loved to meet him, too."
She sighed. "I hope I get to see you later."
"Let's plan on it."
"Well, the Wailea luau draws several hundred people. It may be hard to locate one person in that crowd."
"You look for me and I'll look for you," I said. "I'm sure we'll find each other."
But I was wrong.
# Chapter Two
A'a i Ka Hula; Waiho Ka Hilahila i Ka Hal _e—_ Dare to Dance; Leave Shyness at Home
"So, Mrs. Fletcher, how do you like Maui?"
"Leave her alone, Abbott. For heaven's sake. She just got here."
"I know that, Honi, but it doesn't take that long to form an opinion."
"From the little I've seen, Professor Luzon, it's beautiful," I said while attempting to spoon a Molokai sweet potato onto my plate. The line of diners at the luau curled across the grass, but it moved quickly. Two long buffet tables with both sides offering the same dishes split the line into four columns. I stepped forward to a large stainless chafing dish that held slices of the roast pig that had been disinterred to great fanfare moments earlier. It had been cooked in an underground oven, covered with soil, simulating the methods used by early Polynesians who populated the Hawaiian Islands.
"You must try the salad. The greens are grown right here on Maui, in Kula," Honi said.
Professor Luzon's wife had been advising me all along the buffet line, and my plate now held more food than I could possibly eat.
"Did you take some poi?" she asked.
I smiled at her latest suggestion, stepped out of the line, and said, "It all looks wonderful, but I want to leave a little room for dessert. I'll see you back at the table."
It was a beautiful, warm night with the sun sinking into the cloudless horizon. Round tables covered in linens that matched the turquoise waters dotted the grassy field, which overlooked the ocean. Earlier in the evening when I arrived, I had been seated at a table directly in front of the stage. My tablemates included the Luzons, whom I estimated to be in their mid-forties. They were accompanied by a young woman named Grace. Across from me was an older couple from Michigan, Bob and Elaine Lowell, celebrating their anniversary; and next to them was a pair of stylish ladies from Santa Barbara, Helen and Marian, whose husbands had declined to attend the luau, preferring to stay on the golf course until the last possible moment and then celebrate their game in the clubhouse bar. The two seats designated for them were left empty.
"It's nice that you brought your daughter with you," Elaine Lowell said to Honi. "At that age, our daughter never wanted to be seen with us." She chuckled.
"We don't have any children," Honi said.
"Oh, my mistake, but she looks so much like you."
"Grace is Abbott's teaching assistant. She's a graduate student in environmental science."
"I can speak for myself, Mrs. Luzon."
"Well, then, why don't you, _dear_?"
"I'm Grace Latimer. Abbott and I are working together on a sustainable food production project at Maui College as part of my master's requirements."
"Isn't that what I just said?" Honi asked.
"Honi, that's enough," her husband muttered.
I wondered whether Mrs. Luzon was irritated that Grace called the professor by his first name while maintaining a formal distance from his wife. It was clear they weren't on the best of terms.
"We're golf widows tonight," Marian said, smiling at her companion, "but we're going to have a great time, aren't we, Helen?" She took in the others at the table. "We love Maui. This is our fourth luau. It's always a great show."
"Marian is hoping one of the sexy male dancers chooses her to come up onstage," Helen said. "She's been practicing her hula."
"I have not," Marian said, fanning her red face with her hat.
"Lucky us, huh, Abbott?" Bob Lowell commented.
"I beg your pardon," Luzon replied, peering over the half-glasses he'd put on to read a brochure.
"We're surrounded by a bevy of lovely ladies. I like the male-to-female ratio at this table."
"Cut it out, Bob," his wife said, elbowing him. "You're going to make people uncomfortable."
"Why should anyone be uncomfortable? I'm just stating my appreciation for the beauty surrounding me." He grinned and winked at the golf widows. "And that includes my gorgeous wife here. I bet you'd never guess we've been married for fifty years."
"Oh, Bob!"
"And you're still smiling," Honi said with a tight smile herself, although it wasn't genuine.
"Congratulations," I said. "What a nice way to mark the occasion."
"I've always wanted to come to Hawaii," Elaine said. "It was on my bucket list." She stole a glance at her husband and lowered her voice. "Every time I brought it up, Bob would say, 'We'll come for our fiftieth anniversary.' I don't think he ever thought we'd make it, but we did. And here we are."
The musicians onstage began to play a Hawaiian tune and Elaine clapped her hands over her ears. Although our seats were considered a preferred location, they were uncomfortably close to the loudspeakers.
Bob stood and beckoned to Abbott Luzon. "The bar is open and we're taking orders, aren't we, Professor?" he shouted over the music. "So, ladies, what would you like?"
Luzon reluctantly got to his feet and pocketed his glasses. "I don't see how the two of us will be able to carry back all those drinks, Mr. Lowell."
"It's Bob, and if we have to, we can make a second trip."
"I'll help," Grace said, hopping up.
Honi rolled her eyes, but I was the only witness to her expression as the others delivered their drink orders to the men.
Bob Lowell wrapped an arm around Grace and pulled her close to him. "Atta girl," he said. "Come on, we'll get the drinks for everybody." He tried to give her a peck on the cheek but she squirmed away from him.
I rose and excused myself. "Thank you," I said, "but I think I'll take a little walk before dinner. I'm trying to find a friend. I'll pick up a drink on the way back."
Like the other ladies, I was wearing a lei of purple ginger flowers that had been draped around my neck when I arrived at the luau. I also had on a hat with a wide brim, having been cautioned that the glare could make facing the stage uncomfortable until the sun had set.
I wandered around perusing the booths of Hawaiian crafts that were set up on the perimeter of the field: wood carving, basket weaving, and the making of bark cloth, or _kapa_. A photographer had a station offering on-the-spot photos of the guests with the Pacific as a dramatic backdrop. Everywhere I walked, I kept an eye out for Mala Kapule, but as she had predicted, it was hard to locate one person in the crowd of several hundred.
I found a walkway behind the stage and ventured partway down the path, keeping track of the time so I wouldn't miss the start of the program, although the volume of the music onstage made it unlikely that I wouldn't be alerted.
The trail was a favorite of walkers, runners, and young couples with baby carriages, making for slow going. Even so, I was entranced by the pounding waves striking the rocky shore fifty feet or more below. Out to sea, boats were silhouetted against a clear sky as the sinking sun created a shimmering golden line on the horizon. Along the path, clumps of tourists paused, hands shading eyes that searched the foamy water around the rocks below.
"I see one," a little girl cried out.
I followed her gaze to catch a glimpse of the black-and-yellow head of a large sea turtle as it surfaced for a breath of air. It lifted a flipper toward the sky, its body washing against the sharp crags of hardened lava that formed the precipice and jutted into the water.
"They eat the vegetation that grows on those rocks," the child's father told her. He kept a hand on her shoulder. "Don't go any closer. See that sign? It says not to tread too near the edge."
"What does 'tread' mean?"
"It means you can't step over there where the ground is soft. If it caved in, you would fall down the cliff and into the water and drown."
"Don't frighten her," said a lady next to them, presumably the child's mother.
"I just want her to know the danger," he said as they moved on.
A woman's powerful voice announcing the beginning of the luau floated over the sound of the surf, and I retraced my steps back up the trail. She was explaining the history of the Hawaiian peoples and the significance of the celebration we were attending. I picked up a glass of punch at the bar and returned to my front-row table.
"Did you find your friend?" Elaine asked.
"No, but she'd said it would be difficult with so many people."
"Who were you looking for?" Honi asked.
"Mala Kapule. She's a botanist at the college. I'm sure that your husband knows her."
"I know her," Honi said before Abbott could respond. "But I don't see why she would be here. She must have seen dozens of luaus over the years."
"Her cousin is one of the dancers," I said, adding, "She wasn't definite about coming."
"Then I don't know why you wasted your time looking," Honi said tartly.
"Actually, I saw her," Grace said.
"You did?" I sat taller and scanned the crowd. "Where was she?"
"She was over by the tables in the back near the bar."
"Did you speak with her?"
"No. I didn't know you were looking for her. Anyway, we were busy juggling the drink orders, and she . . . well, she was having a serious conversation. I could tell she didn't want to be interrupted."
"Thanks for letting me know."
The woman onstage, whose voice had guided me back to the luau from my walk, took the microphone again and recited a prayer in Hawaiian. She was tall, her dark hair swept up in a chignon, with large white flowers pinned behind each ear. She wore a long sarong patterned with blue hibiscus blossoms. Conversation ceased as our attention was directed to the stage.
"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. During dinner we will be serenading you with more music and hula dancing. And then after dinner, the wonderful journey of _Te Au Moana_ , 'the ocean tide.' From all of us to all of you, _aloha_ and welcome."
I tasted most of the dishes Honi insisted I try. I don't know whether it was fatigue—according to my watch it was one in the morning in Cabot Cove—or simply the overabundance of food on my plate, but I had little appetite to finish.
"I'm going up for seconds," Bob Lowell announced.
"Oh, Bob!"
"Now, Elaine, I'm on vacation. How many times in a lifetime do we get to go to a luau?"
"I hope you won't be sorry later tonight," she said. "You know you have a delicate stomach."
I was surprised to hear there was anything delicate about Bob Lowell. He was a big man with a big voice, and a stomach to match. Elaine's last observation had been made to his back as he lumbered across the grass to the catering section, to return shortly with another full plate.
Later, once our dinners had been cleared—including Bob's second round—two bare-chested male dancers walked down the aisles blowing into conch-shell horns to mark the continuation of the performance. Our elegant narrator took the stage again.
"Tonight we unveil the story of Maui, the masterful and mischievous hero who became legend, and for whom our beloved island is named. Maui and his famed mother, Hina, begin this extraordinary journey."
Ukuleles, guitars, and drums joined the spoken word.
"When I was a young girl, my mother would tell me to gaze into the moon and I would see Hina making her billowing _kapa_ , the precious cloth of our people. Folded into it are centuries of stories of Hawaii."
As she spoke, male dancers wearing _kapa_ loincloths and shell pendants appeared, their bodies tattooed with patterns and images that I imagined were reflections of the Maui legends. They were joined by five women, each more striking than the last, wearing grass skirts and dancing the hula to traditional and very loud Hawaiian music.
"How do they move their hips like that?" Elaine asked her husband.
"I'd like to see you do that," Bob said. "Learn that dance and I'll get you one of those grass skirts."
"Oh, Bob!"
"There's a hula school in Lahaina, up the coast," Helen put in. "Marian and I took some lessons the last time we came. It's a lot harder than it looks."
"Helen practically threw her back out trying to get it right," Marian said.
"I did not."
"But I enjoyed myself," Marian added. "It's all in the hips. Your feet barely move."
The sky darkened and the insistent beat of the drums pulsed through my body. With a terrifying scream, one of the male dancers bounded onto the stage, waving a lance with flames blazing on either end. There was a flutter of wings and loud honking as birds rose into the dark sky behind the stage in response to the dancer's shriek.
"My goodness! What was that?" Elaine said, grabbing her husband's arm.
Grace leaned over. "Those are francolins," she said.
"What's a francolin?"
"They're birds that nest on the ground. He must have startled them."
"And they startled _me_ ," Elaine said, laughing.
Bob patted her hand.
The smell of burning oil reached our table as one of the dancers strode across the stage, lighting the tiki torches at each corner. Leaping into the air, he passed the pole between his legs and behind his back, then twirled it overhead. I marveled at how he managed not to ignite the dry grass of his costume and headdress.
The dancers appeared and disappeared in a dizzying array of colorful costume changes, the energetic acrobatics of the men alternating with the delicate movements of the women, slowly waving their graceful arms in contrast to the rapid undulation of their hips.
"Isn't she adorable?" Helen commented about a little Hawaiian girl who'd been called upon by the narrator to demonstrate her considerable skills.
"I might have been that good if I'd started at that age," Marian said.
"You're pretty good for a newcomer to the art," her friend told her.
"Have you ever danced the hula?" Marian asked Grace.
"Grace doesn't have time for such fripperies," Honi said, waving her glass in the air. "She's too busy keeping my husband working late at the laboratory."
Grace didn't respond to Honi, but I could see that it was an effort. She kept her eyes focused on Marian and shook her head. "I'm not very graceful, despite my name," she said with a small smile.
"She has other talents," Honi said.
"I'm getting another drink," Professor Luzon said, ducking away from the table.
"You might have asked if I wanted anything," his wife called after him.
"And do you?"
Honi waved her husband away with a disgusted look and stirred her drink with the straw.
The voice of the narrator rose above the music to explain the stories being told in dance.
"One day, Hina tells Maui to go catch _ulua_ , the great fish, with the magical fishhook his grandfather gave him. 'But you and your brothers must not look back for any reason once the fish has taken the hook,' she says. Out at sea, the brothers feel a gigantic tug upon the canoe and paddle with all their strength into the waves. At that moment, a baling gourd floats alongside the canoe. The brothers pull it on board and it transforms into a beautiful woman. Excitedly, the brothers all look back at this wondrous sight, and the spell is broken. The fish is lost, but instead they have raised the islands of Hawaii from the sea."
"That's a neat trick," Bob said. "I only catch bass when I go fishing."
"Shh, Bob!" his wife said, poking him with her elbow.
Marian gave Bob a polite smile and returned her attention to the stage, pointing out one of the dancers to Helen. "That's the one we saw last time."
"How can you tell?" Helen asked. "He's wearing a mask."
"I remember his tattoo."
The narrator finished her tale. "Maui and the beautiful woman of the canoe fall in love. They are married and become ancestors to the Hawaiian people. This is the story of our people, guided by stars across the Pacific to make their homes on new islands and to begin new families. On a clear night you will see the constellation Scorpio. That is the magical fishhook that guided our ancient navigating ancestors to these shores. Ladies and gentlemen, _that_ is the legend of Maui."
The audience broke into applause. I gathered my hat and shoulder bag in anticipation of the program's end, but Honi waved, shaking her head. "It's not over. There's at least another hour to go. They're just setting out dessert."
"I don't think I could eat another thing," I said, stifling a yawn.
"And we haven't had our chance to try the hula," Marian said. "That's the best part."
I relaxed back in my seat. The luau continued with more dancing and storytelling. Despite the volume of the music, the vibration of the drums, and the acrid scent of the tiki torches—or perhaps because of them—I felt myself nodding off. I straightened in my chair and looked around, hoping no one had noticed. I peered into my empty glass of punch. "Would you please excuse me? I'm going to get a cup of coffee. Would anyone else like one?" With no takers, I slipped from my seat and walked up the grassy aisle toward the booths that served as outdoor bars. Long tables held plates of cakes cut into small squares, and urns of coffee. I helped myself to a cup, walked farther up the field behind the bars, and turned to watch the performance, grateful to be at some distance from the loudspeakers. A cool breeze ruffled my hair and I breathed in the refreshing air.
"She's never going to give up. You know that, don't you?" an angry voice said off to my right.
I glanced over to see two men arguing in low tones. One of them was tall with an athletic build, the other older, softer, and with a shaved head.
"Did he try talking to her?" asked the taller man.
"It's too late for talking," the other replied. He was a beefy man in a colorful patterned shirt, shorts, and flip-flops, almost a Hawaiian uniform, judging by the attire of most of the men at the luau. "She'd better quit if she knows what's good for her. They're not going to put up with it anymore."
"She's not going to convince him to change his mind, even if she tries."
"If she scuttles this project, I swear he'll kill her."
They must have noticed me eavesdropping. The tall man glanced my way and drew his companion toward the path that circled the field.
I shrugged off the threatening talk and moved back toward the coffee table intent on a refill. I peered at my watch but couldn't see its face in the dark. The luau should be ending soon. It would be a forty-minute ride back to the resort before I could finally climb between the cool sheets of my bed. _Perhaps another cup of coffee isn't a good idea,_ I told myself, adding, _Maybe you should have waited to get over jet lag before attending a luau._ I'd recently adopted a rule for myself: Never schedule anything important the night you arrive if you travel across time zones. Now I was thinking about extending that to two nights.
I returned to the table just as the narrator was describing the elements of a hula dance.
"We're going to send our boys and girls into the audience to select a few volunteers. Now, for those of you chosen by our dancers, please oblige them, for this is our custom. In a few moments you'll be joining us here onstage."
"Get ready, Elaine," Bob said. "They're going to want you to show off your dance moves for everyone."
"Oh, Bob!"
Elaine's husband obviously heard that plaint a lot. But it wasn't Elaine who was pulled from the table to demonstrate her hula skills. I felt a strong hand circle my wrist. "Come—you're going to be my partner," the dancer said.
"Oh, no," I said. "I'm not the right one."
"I'll do it," Marian called out.
"This is the _wahine_ I have chosen," the dancer said, bowing before me. He tugged me behind him to the stage, where a small crowd of people were waiting to mount the stairs. "Don't worry," he whispered into my ear. "We'll teach you all you need to know."
We formed a long line on the stage, the lights effectively blinding us to the audience.
"Put your hands off to the side, bring your feet together, bend your knees, and smile," the narrator instructed, her voice reflecting her own wide smile. "Next, put your hands up in the air and make a big circle with your hips. As the music moves faster, make your hips move faster."
My expression must have been skeptical, but I was wide-awake now, wanting desperately not to make a fool of myself. My hula partner jumped in front of me and demonstrated the proper technique. My hands in the air, I swiveled my hips in an approximation of his moves, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise up my neck. I knew my face was scarlet.
"Hands to the side. Hands up. Turn in a circle. Aren't they wonderful, ladies and gentlemen? Let's have a big hand for all our hula dancers."
The narrator directed each couple to display their hula prowess and encouraged the spectators to vote for their favorites with their applause. I watched nervously as younger, suppler bodies than mine attempted the tricky feat, but when she pointed to me, I pasted a big grin on my face and swiveled my hips. I could imagine what the reaction would be if my friends in Cabot Cove heard about this escapade. "Jessica Fletcher dancing the hula? Never happened!"
But as my Irish grandmother used to say, _"May you dance as if no one's watching, sing as if no one's listening, and live every day as if it were your last."_
I gave my all to the hula.
# Chapter Three
Ao No Hoi!—What a Terrible Thing!
Mike Kane was writing on the whiteboard when I entered the classroom the following morning an hour before our students were due to arrive. He was tall and broad in the way many Polynesian men are, with a face remarkably unlined for someone his age, which I estimated to be mid-fifties. He wore a white shirt with an embroidered placket tucked into baggy tan trousers, the cuffs of which puddled on his gray sneakers. A thick black band dangling from his neck held a pair of eyeglasses with clip-on sunglasses attached.
"Good morning," I said, putting my shoulder bag and notebook on the table next to where he'd set his briefcase. "Thanks for suggesting the luau. It was wonderful, although I must admit by the end of the evening, I was struggling to stave off jet lag."
He turned to greet me. "You couldn't have been too tired. I heard you came in first in the hula competition."
"My goodness, word gets around here quickly."
"You're on a small island," he said with a smile, although there was something in his eyes that stopped me.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm afraid I have some bad news to give you."
"Oh, dear. Has our class been canceled?"
"Nothing as simple as that. Please take a seat." He pulled out one of the chairs, held it for me, and sat opposite, taking one of my hands in both of his. His chin dipped down to his chest and he took a deep breath.
I felt the blood drain from my face, and a torrent of awful possibilities raced through my mind. What could have happened? Did he get a message from Cabot Cove? Had our sheriff been injured racing to a traffic accident or crime scene? Had there been a fire or a flood or a break-in? Would anyone even know where to reach me should some disaster occur? Had one of my friends taken ill, or worse? Seth was getting on in years. Although I cautioned him to slow down, he still insisted on keeping full-time office hours, not even counting how long he spent at the hospital visiting his patients every day. Had his heart given out? I prayed he was all right. Countless dire scenarios materialized as I waited for Mike Kane to elaborate.
"Jessica, I'm so sorry to have to tell you this."
"Yes?"
"You met Mala Kapule?"
"Yesterday," I said, slightly breathless. "I told you I was going to stop by her class. We had coffee together afterward. I heard she was at the luau, too, although I didn't see her."
"Mala fell off a cliff on the south shore last night. The police think she was trying to climb down to where a specimen of a particular plant is growing in the rocks."
"Oh, dear. Was she terribly injured?" I asked, afraid to contemplate anything worse.
"She was badly battered by the rocks. She may have hit her head when she lost her balance. She fell in an especially difficult place for rescuers to get to. The tide is very rough on that stretch of shore. The waves come in one right after the other. There are boulders under the water that are jagged and sharp. By the time the authorities got to her, she was gone."
I let a soft moan escape my lips and felt tears start in my eyes, even though I'd known her so briefly. "So young," I whispered. "She was so young."
"Yes, but old enough to know not to go climbing in the dark of night, no matter how enticing the prize growing out of the rocks."
"Are you certain that's what she was doing?" I asked.
Mike shook his head. "That's what the police have presumed. They've labeled her death an accident."
"But you have doubts?" I let go of his hand and pulled a tissue from my pocket, dabbing at my eyes and regaining my composure. Now was not the time to get all weepy. A dozen students were about to arrive.
"Let's just say I'm reserving judgment."
"I don't know why I got so emotional on such short acquaintance," I said. "We'd barely met. I guess it's that I've been hearing about Mala for months. Her late uncle Barrett was a friend of a close friend of mine. She was so charming and sweet to me yesterday."
"You don't have to excuse your grief. Any life lost is a loss to the community," he said. He paused a moment, then continued. "In Hawaii, we believe in _'ohana_."
"I've heard that word before. What does it mean?"
"The simple translation is 'family,' but in reality our _family_ is a much wider circle than those merely related by kinship. It takes in all of those we love, all those we respect and honor. It is both our community as well as those outside it to whom we have ties. That can encompass many people." He stood and paced in front of the whiteboard.
"Was Mala part of your _'ohana_?" I asked.
He nodded. "I didn't know her, but her uncle, Dr. Kapule, was my physician. So I knew of her."
"Until I met her yesterday, that was my experience as well."
"I'm going to ride over there after class," he said.
"To the place where Mala fell?"
"Yes. Would you like to come with me?"
"Very much."
Our students began filing into the classroom.
"We'll talk more later," Mike said, turning back to the whiteboard.
I picked up my notes and reviewed them, purposely pushing my mind away from the image of Mala Kapule tumbling down the rocky precipice into the churning water below. But she kept intruding on my thoughts. I remembered the child who'd pointed out the sea turtle. Her father had warned her not to step off the path. Clearly the signs posted along the trail cautioning visitors indicated that there was a real danger of losing footing if the soft earth should collapse. Yes, Mala was passionate about botany. But would she really have been so foolhardy as to risk her life to acquire a plant? I tried to avoid the conclusion that kept forcing its way to the front of my thoughts. What if her death wasn't an accident? What if the same people who objected to her political and scientific views decided their goals were better served without her? And what if those men on whose conversation I'd eavesdropped at the luau were speaking about Mala?
There were twelve students in our class, all soon-to-be graduates of the Maui Police Department's training program. After brief introductions and expressions of our thanks to the sponsoring foundation and the police department administration—and instructions for the students to turn off their cell phones—Mike and I began teaching our course, entitled "Public Input and Criminal Investigations."
Mike's qualifications for leading the class—thirty-two years on the force and a long string of cases effectively closed—were obvious. Mine were less so. While my reputation as a mystery writer may have brought my name to the attention of the sponsors, it was more likely that my experience in helping to solve some murders over the years had prompted the invitation to become Mike's co-instructor. I never start out intending to get mixed up in a murder case, but somehow information comes my way, and before I can stop myself, I'm pursuing leads and giving advice to the police—not always well received, I might add. But clearly, someone had noticed my successes, and here I was about to tell future detectives their business.
"We're going to begin by talking about how information makes its way through a neighborhood," Mike said. "Jessica, would you like to start?"
"The nature of a community is that news travels within it in many different ways," I told the police recruits. "For an electronic generation such as yours, the obvious route is online, on social networking sites, in texts and e-mails, but these are far from the only ways to ferret out information when you're working a case. Leaving out the Internet for the time being," I continued, "can you give us examples of other ways you might hear news about, let's say, a series of burglaries?"
Hands went up and suggestions were called out.
"In the incident reports."
"On TV."
"The radio station, Native 92.5."
"In my grandmother's kitchen."
" _Maui News_ , the paper."
"How about Wow-Wee Maui?" This was greeted by a wave of laughter.
I looked at Mike questioningly.
"It's a local bar."
"These are all great suggestions," Mike said. "One thing to keep in mind when you're out on the street—and you're all going to be pounding a beat on the street before you become an investigator, if you ever do—is to keep your ears open for news. Sometimes even the simplest statement you overhear can give an investigator the key to solving a case." Mike screwed up his face and pointed to a student in the third row who had been whispering to the young woman next to him while she was trying to listen and take notes.
Mike squinted one eye and called out, "'Ey, bruddah!"
The student looked up quickly.
"I saw Lenny Jingo last night giving rides in his new pickup. Whaddya tink'a dat?" Mike said in his best streetwise accent.
Those not in Mike's line of sight giggled nervously as the student Mike had called upon pointed to his chest and had a confused look on his face.
"Yeah, you! C'mon, you're supposed to be a police officer now," Mike said.
Mike's victim in the third row squirmed.
"Nothing up here, huh?" Mike said tapping his temple.
"How's something stu . . . , something like that supposed to help you with a case?" the student asked in an irritated voice.
"You tell me," Mike said. "Think about it. You're walking a beat. You're getting to know the people in the neighborhood. What does this news tell you?" He looked up at the class. "Ideas?"
"Lenny finally got his driver's license back?" someone called out.
"His _kuku wahine_ died and left him her fortune."
The other students laughed.
Mike lowered his head and leaned toward the fellow he'd singled out. "Let's hear from Akamai __ over here."
"My name's Louis. Why'd you call me Akamai?"
" _Akamai_ means 'genius.' I figured since you weren't paying attention, you already knew everything. Okay, Louis, what's your idea?"
"Well," he said, buying time, "I think—"
"That's a good start," Mike said, setting off snickers among the students.
Louis's face reddened. He cleared his throat. "Lenny Jingo never has two cents to put together," he said.
"And that means?"
"That if he's joyriding around in a new pickup, he probably borrowed it."
"Or?"
"Or stole it."
"Very good! That's why it's important to listen."
The class broke into applause. Louis stood and gave his classmates a mock bow.
"In a small town, or on a small island, anything out of the ordinary is commented on," I began. "People will talk. Sometimes they know something. Sometimes they don't. They may be guessing or even making up a story to fit the facts, but you have to pay attention. A clue may be buried in the gossip."
"You also have to be careful and judge when you listen," Mike added.
"Exactly," I said. "You cannot assume that everything you hear is true, but a rumor is a good place to start looking for the truth."
"Okay, let's get back to your favorite place, since you all usually have your heads buried in your cell phones," Mike said. "If you do go online trying to find information on our fictional burglaries, where do you go?"
"You could check out Lenny's personal page, see what photos he posted to figure out where he's been in the past few weeks," one student offered.
"Where else?"
"His friends' pages?"
"Twitter?"
"Anyplace else?" I asked.
There were shrugs all around as the suggestions dried up.
"Mrs. Fletcher, where would you look?" Mike asked.
"I would look at the news stories, blogs, and columns online," I said.
Louis groaned. "What good is that? They're only going to repeat the common knowledge."
"Perhaps," I said, "but in the Comments sections below the articles, people may make an observation or even joke about what's going on. They might not respond to the police request to call with any information, but in their need to express an opinion, they often reveal more about themselves and what they know than they intended to. You may find the names of people who know something, or who could lead you to other people who know something."
"Yeah, but what if they're anonymous or using a fake name?" someone called out from the back row.
"That's easy to trace," another student answered.
"The point Detective Kane and I are trying to make is that information can come from anywhere. If you're observant, if you file away offhand remarks in your memory bank, sometimes the pieces of the puzzle can come together."
Mala Kapule was a puzzle, I thought.
As the class continued, I wondered how I could find out more about this beautiful young botanist whose acquaintance I'd only just made, whose family and friends were strangers to me, who lived on an island I was unfamiliar with, but who, in such a short time, had already become part of my _'ohana_.
# Chapter Four
'Ike Aku, 'Ike Mai—Recognize and Be Recognized
Mike's car was a dusty blue SUV with a dent in the front fender on the passenger side and with the distinct aroma of fried fish inside. A plastic bag hanging from a radio knob held balled-up wax paper from a variety of fast-food places. Two empty cans of Coke occupied the cup holders in the console.
"It looks like you do a lot of eating on the run," I said, hoping it didn't sound like criticism.
"Yeah," he said as I buckled up. "Excuse the mess. My wife won't go near this car. She says it stinks. I cleaned it up for you. Not too bad now, huh?"
"As a method of transportation, it's perfect," I said, pressing a button to roll down the window.
"You don't need air-conditioning?" he asked as the car started with a groan of protest and rumbled to life.
"I'm fine without it."
"Where you from? Florida?"
"No," I said, laughing. "I'm from Maine, all the way up the East Coast, the last state before Canada."
"Never been there. Actually, the only place I been to on the mainland is California."
"So you're a Hawaiian, born and bred?"
"Relatively speaking," he said. "My father was half-Hawaiian. Like most of us on the island, I'm pretty much a mutt. Got some Portuguese, Filipino, Samoan, French, Korean—I think there's even some Irish in my blood."
"My mother was from Ireland," I said. "I knew we had something in common."
Mike gave out with a belly laugh. "Then top o' the morning to you, Cousin Jessica," he said.
"That's not a bad Irish accent you have there, Cousin Mike."
A police car passed us on the road and the driver honked.
Mike gave him a Hawaiian wave, a fist with thumb and pinkie finger extended. He was silent a moment, then said, "After class tomorrow you should come to our family picnic."
"Where is that?"
"We do a barbecue up in Iao Valley. Good food. You'll like my wife. She's a lot like you. Her name is Pualani. She calls herself Lani. Are you free?"
"I am, and I would be honored to come. Can I bring anything?"
"Just yourself," he said, grinning. "It'll save me a lot of time explaining to my wife who this woman is that I've been seen driving around with."
From Kahului, where the college was located, we took Mokulele Highway across the island to Pi'ilani, a four-lane road that ran parallel to the southwest coast and avoided the congestion of the main street through Kihei, a neighborhood of smaller condominiums, homes, and hotels where many of the resort employees lived.
Mike parked his car in a shopping center and we made our way between two luxury hotels to reach the Wailea Coastal Walk, a mile-and-a-half trail that ran behind waterfront resorts and private condominium developments. I'd explored a small portion of it the evening before. It was midday and hot. I followed Mike's example and put on a hat, grateful that I'd thrown a pair of tennis shoes in my shoulder bag so I could change out of the dress pumps I'd worn to teach the class. The paved part of the walk radiated back the heat and the air shimmered above it as we walked past a crescent-shaped beach and down toward the field where the luau had been held.
A few runners, undaunted by the high temperature, coasted by us, but most of the pedestrians must have opted to wait for the cooler evening or early morning hours to enjoy the spectacular view. The luau field was empty, the tables and chairs gone, the stage dismantled and stored away until the next performance. We ambled around the curves of the coast, Mike taking his time and examining the vegetation along the path.
"So Miss Kapule was at the luau last night," he said, pausing to peer over a bush near a rocky outcropping.
"I can't confirm that," I replied, "but one of the women at my table said that she'd seen her talking with someone."
He moved on. "Who would that woman be?"
"Her name is Grace Latimer," I said, glancing over the same bush that seemed to interest Mike. "What are you looking for?"
"Just admiring. Tell me about Miss Latimer."
"About twenty-five, blond, blue eyes. Pretty, but a little restrained. She doesn't smile much, but perhaps it was the company. She's a graduate student working with Professor Abbott Luzon on her master's project. The professor and his wife were at the luau as well."
"In what context did Mala's name come up?"
"I mentioned that I was looking for her. Mala had told me that one of her cousins was a dancer and that I might see her there."
"But you didn't."
"No. We never found each other. At least, I didn't find _her_. I have no idea if she was looking for me as well."
"Was there any reason why she would have avoided you?"
"None that I can think of, although she had made a point of saying we might not run across each other because of the crowd."
"How many people were there? Any idea?"
"I would guess several hundred, but the luau organizers should be able to give you a more precise number. As I understand it, everyone needed a ticket or reservation to get in."
He grunted. "You didn't make plans to meet in a particular area?"
I shook my head. "When I last saw her, she was going into an appointment in the science building and wasn't even sure if she would make it to the luau. I simply suggested that we look for each other. That was the extent of our plan, if you can call it that."
"But this Grace Latimer said she saw Mala at the luau? Did she speak with her?"
"I asked the same question. The answer is no. But that's certainly understandable; at the time, Grace didn't even know I was hoping to see Mala."
"Who was Mala talking to?"
"You'll have to ask Grace. All she said was that Mala was engaged in a serious conversation and looked as if she didn't want to be interrupted."
Mike thought about that a moment, then said, "You should tell this to the police."
I smiled. "I thought I was."
He looked down at his feet and shook his head slowly. "Sorry for the interrogation. Once a cop, always a cop," he said with a bemused expression. "Hard to break old habits."
"So I hear."
"I'll introduce you to a buddy on the force."
"Why would he even be interested if they believe Mala's death was an accident?"
"Just to cover all the bases."
"Do you think it was an accident?"
"I already told you. I'm reserving judgment."
"Just checking to see if you're still telling the same story," I said.
"You sure _you're_ not a cop?"
"Maybe in another life, but not in this one."
"Yeah? You believe in that reincarnation stuff?"
"I'm reserving judgment," I said.
Mike laughed. "Touché," he said. "I don't think there's a word for that in Hawaiian."
We continued along the path overlooking the water. At one point a stone wall rose about eight feet high, obstructing our view of the land and buildings above and narrowing the walkway so that those we met coming in the opposite direction had to stand sideways to let Mike and me pass. A little beyond, a wooden bridge crossed a small ravine, at the bottom of which a trickle of water flowed down a hill and over a sandy patch of shoreline into the sea. Yellow tape marked the place where three investigators were conferring on the sand.
"How good are you at rock climbing?" Mike asked.
"Am I about to find out?"
"Let's see if we can find an easy way down."
We walked around a wooden gate meant to keep trespassers off private property, backtracked up the side of the gully until the trail to the bottom was less steep, stepped through the brush that flanked the stream, and followed the smooth gray stones toward the wider water. Mike splashed directly through the water, and after trying unsuccessfully to keep my sneakers dry, I followed suit.
The crew on the beach looked up as we approached. Mike lifted his chin, "Howzit?" he called to a man in a blue flowered shirt and white shorts.
"'Ey, Kane! I thought you pulled the pin," the man said, walking up to us. The two uniformed officers, a man and a woman, stayed by the shore.
"I got bored being retired. Besides, I heard you were praying to the goddess Uli for my return," Mike said. He turned to me. "Jessica Fletcher, meet Detective Henry Tahaki, a big-mouth cop who thinks he knows forensics."
Tahaki chuckled and reached out to shake my hand. "Aloha. Any friend of this big kahuna is welcome," he said. "Jessica, is it?"
"That's right. Nice to meet you."
"Who you got with you?" Mike asked.
"New recruits. Showing them the ropes. How often do you get a dead body to investigate on Maui?"
"Once is too often," Mike said.
Henry eyed Mike. "What brings you here? Did you know the vic?"
"Are you thinking she's a victim now?"
"Whether it's by her own hand or someone else's, she's dead," Henry said. "That makes her a vic in my book."
"Did you find evidence to sway you either way?"
"Look, brah, I got to know your position here. Last I heard you were working hotel loss prevention. I take it this isn't a social visit."
"Let's just say I'm on special assignment from the department," Mike said. "Private duty."
Our class on community involvement in criminal investigation could be considered a "special assignment," I thought, although I wasn't sure the police department would approve of Mike's using his position as an instructor to justify poking his nose into a case.
"Is Jessica here your assistant?" Henry asked.
Before Mike could answer, I piped up. "I'm his partner," I said.
Henry's eyebrows shot up. "A female private investigator? Cool. Don't see too many of those," he said.
I smiled, deciding not to correct Henry. If he filled in the blanks himself, I could honestly say that I hadn't claimed to be a private investigator. I only hoped he wouldn't ask to see my license.
"Jessica knows someone who saw Miss Kapule at last night's luau," Mike said.
"Yeah? Who was it?"
I gave Grace Latimer's name to Detective Tahaki and told him he could find her at the college. I wondered if Grace had recognized the person Mala was talking to, and thought I might ask her myself the next time I was on campus. I realized I didn't even know if Mala's companion was a man or a woman, and silently chided myself for not having thought to inquire. But of course I never expected I would need to know such information. I had no reason to think Mala was in danger, if, indeed, she had been.
"This isn't where she fell," Mike said.
Henry shook his head. "No. They found her body up the coast a bit in a place only fit for _honu_."
"That's a sea turtle," Mike said to me.
"You can't get in there without a boat," Henry continued, "and even with one, it's a bumpy ride. The rocks'll put a big gash in anything too heavy. They had to moor the rescue boat offshore and paddle in to get her."
"How long do you figure she was in the water?"
"Not sure she was. Might have just been on the rocks. But that's a question for the coroner, not me. I'm just checking out the area, see if she dropped anything, find any witnesses."
"And?"
"We checked all the neighbors. No one saw or heard anything. At least that's what they're saying. It started to cloud over around oh one hundred hours. Rained for an hour or two. She could have slipped when the ground was wet. Couldn't really tell; the rain washed away a lot."
"So you don't have a time of death?" Mike said.
Henry shrugged. "Sometime between darkness and oh six hundred, when a jogger called it in."
"You can do better than that," Mike said.
"Probably around midnight before the clouds covered the moon. If she was looking for a particular plant, she wouldn't have been able to see it easily after that."
"What makes you think she was looking for a plant?" I asked.
"I didn't see the body, but one of the rescuers said she was holding some leaves in her hand."
"Would you mind letting me see the report when you're finished?" Mike asked.
Henry shrugged. "You know where they're filed," he said.
"Don't make me go to headquarters," Mike said. "E-mail me a copy. You can do that."
Henry nodded but didn't look too happy.
_"Mahalo,"_ Mike said to him.
"Yes. Thank you, and nice to meet you," I said to the detective. I waved to the other officers, who were watching us.
"Not much new there," Mike said under his breath as we left the beach.
"I'd like to see where she fell," I said, trying to keep up with Mike's pace.
"We're on our way there now."
"Why did Detective Tahaki call you 'brah'?" I asked.
"It's our word for 'bro,' like mainland slang for 'brother.' A lot of what you think is Hawaiian is just our version of the way an English word is pronounced. Like 'fadda' for 'father' or 'eriding' for 'everything.'"
"I'm going to have to listen carefully," I said.
"Stick with me. I'll teach you. Before you leave, people will think you're a real _kama'aina_."
"That sounds Hawaiian. Does it mean someone who lives here?"
"Yeah. A local. See? You're picking it up already. All you really have to know is _aloha_ , _mahalo_ , and that it's bad luck to whistle after dark."
"I'll keep it in mind," I said. _"Mahalo."_
" _A'ole pilikia._ That means 'no worries,' but most people simply say 'you're welcome.'"
We traipsed up the stream, climbed the side of the ravine, and walked through the gate and back onto the trail. The wet footprints we left on the path evaporated almost immediately in the hot, dry air, and soon my sneakers were dry as well. A short way ahead, around a curve, more yellow tape alerted us to the site from which the police believed Mala had fallen. The grass there was matted; more than one pair of shoes had beaten it down. The trampled edge was across from a grassy area that bordered a condominium development. A wood-sided porch jutted from the second floor of the building, and a little boy in a straw cowboy hat leaned over the railing watching us. Thick black hair jutted out from beneath the hat. The lenses in the round, rimless glasses he wore caught the light and gave the impression that no eyes were behind them.
Bushes bordering the walkway on what Mike called the _makai_ side of the path—that's the sea side—blocked access to a rocky ledge, and a sign warned pedestrians to stay clear of where the soft earth had been disturbed. Apart from the sandy soil and a few crushed cigarette butts, there wasn't much else to see. Mike ducked under the tape and carefully maneuvered himself onto the ledge so he could peer down into the cove.
"How could a jogger have seen her?" I asked. "You can't see to the bottom of the cliff from here."
"Maybe he took a break sitting on this ledge," Mike said. "That's the only way. Unless someone from one of the early-morning outrigger canoe trips alerted him to call the cops."
I stayed on the path but walked a short distance back the way we'd come to see whether the angled approach allowed me to spot where the sandy soil might have collapsed. I paused in the shade of a palm tree, part of the condominium's landscaping, grateful for a little respite from the sun.
"Do you see any vegetation growing out of the rock?" I called to Mike.
"No, but that doesn't mean it wasn't there before she picked it."
"Maybe she wasn't trying to pick anything at all," I said. "Maybe she just grabbed onto a bush to stop from falling."
"Yeah, that's possible."
"Like this one," I said, moving to where a tall, full bush with dark red flowers sat close to the path's edge. Mike joined me.
"See?" I said, pointing to a broken branch. "This is what Mala might have grabbed when she started to fall."
"Which begs the question of why she would have started to fall in the first place. She was young and healthy. It doesn't ring true to me that she'd simply lose her balance."
"Whatcha lookin' for?" a young voice interrupted.
I shaded my eyes with my hand and looked up to the wooden railing where I'd seen the child, but he was gone.
"I'm over here." He stood on the sill of an open glass door that led to a small patio under the deck where a little table and two chairs were set up.
I waved. "Hi. Does your mother know where you are?" I asked. "I'm not sure she'd want you to come outside without her." I was thinking that I wouldn't want to live in such a dangerous location if I had a small child.
"I'm allowed," he said, stepping down onto the grass and walking toward me. "I can go as far as the tree." He pointed to the palm.
"Tell you what," I said. "You stay where you are and I'll come to you."
I crossed the grass and guided the boy back to the patio. Cool air from the condominium flowed through the open door.
"Is your mother home?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"There must be someone at home with you."
"Tutu is, but she said not to bother her. She has a my, a my-something."
"A migraine?"
"Uh-huh."
"Those are pretty painful," I said, "but still, I think she'd like to know that you're outside."
"What's your name?" he asked, which made me smile. He certainly was a direct little fellow.
"I'm Jessica Fletcher."
"My name's Kona."
"Like the coffee?"
"Like the place on the Big Island. But my daddy calls me Koko. You can call me Koko, too."
"Nice to meet you, Koko."
"Found a new friend, huh?" Mike said, easing his big body into one of the patio chairs. "Could use a break from the sun. You have any water with you, Jessica?"
"I have a couple of bottles in my bag," I said, "but the water's going to be warm."
"As long as it's wet," he said. "Take a seat. We can spare five minutes."
"But we don't know who lives here." I groped around in my bag for the small water bottles I'd tossed in it that morning.
Mike shrugged.
"You know me," Koko said. I now could see large brown eyes through the thick lenses of his glasses.
"Yes, we do," I said, taking the other chair and handing Mike a bottle, "but I would feel better if you went inside and told Tutu that we're out here on your patio."
Koko looked down at his feet. "She gets angry when I wake her up."
Mike chuckled. "Guess we better let your grandma sleep, huh?"
Koko grinned at him. "What's the yellow ribbon for?" He waved at the crime scene tape.
"A lady fell and hurt herself," Mike said. "We want to make sure no one else goes there and gets hurt—like you. Promise me that you won't walk over there."
Koko shook his head. "I won't. I'm not allowed to go on the trail, only as far as the tree."
"Good boy. You listen to your _tutu_." Mike took a sip of his water and swiped a hand across his damp brow. "Henry indicated they questioned everyone in the neighborhood, and no one heard anything last night," he said to me.
"I heard something last night," Koko said.
Mike leaned forward in his chair and gave Koko a little smile. "What did you hear, Koko?"
"I heard the rain."
"Oh, it woke you up, did it?"
"No. I was already up. The birds woke me up."
"Birds?" Mike said.
Koko nodded. "The loud ones. I hear them every morning, and last night when—"
"There you are, Koko. I've been looking all over for you." A woman in a yellow apron stood in the open door. "You're letting out all the cold air. Get in here this minute." She glared at Mike and me. "And who are you?"
Mike stood and gave her a mild smile. "Investigators, ma'am."
Her angry expression changed to regret. "We heard about it. Just awful. I've been saying for years that they need to build a fence along that path."
"What's awful, Tutu?" Koko asked.
"Nothing you need to know about. Get inside, little one. It's time for your snack." To us, she said, "You can sit as long as you like."
"We'd like to ask you a few questions if you don't mind," Mike said.
"I already told the police I went to bed at ten and slept through to this morning. Didn't see anything. Didn't hear anything. Sorry."
Koko started to say something, but his grandmother ushered him inside and closed the glass door.
Mike sat again. "What do you think?" he said.
"I think Mala might have fallen down the cliff before the rain came," I said.
"Why do you say that?"
"The birds Koko heard. At the luau last night, a noise disturbed birds that nest on the ground behind the stage and they flew into the air making loud noises. Grace Latimer said they were francolins. Maybe francolins were nesting here, too. Mala's presence might have roused them. Perhaps she screamed. If she did, it might have startled the birds into calling. They're certainly loud enough to wake a little boy. It could point to the time she fell—or was pushed."
Mike grimaced. "I'll hold off on the second half of that statement," he said, "for the moment. Meanwhile, let's go look and see if we find any evidence of the birds."
But whether or not we found a nest, I was convinced that the birds already knew what I only suspected: that Mala's death was no accident, that she didn't go rock climbing at midnight, that someone wanted to shut her up—permanently. That realization overrode the heat of the day and sent a chill through me.
# Chapter Five
Kōkua—Help or Assistance __
Mike was in a hurry to get home. He bought takeout sandwiches for us at a fish restaurant in a shopping center and, before dropping me off at the small resort where I was staying, reminded me that I was invited to his family picnic after class the next day.
I took my paper-bag lunch out to the lanai, a shaded patio off my room with a view of the bay, and sat at a round metal table to unpack my meal. The sandwich—grilled fish with lettuce, onion, and tomato—was delicious, but so spicy that I was grateful Mike had gotten me an iced tea as well. The warm breeze, combined with our morning exertions and a filling meal, made me sleepy. I changed seats, relaxing back into a padded wicker chaise, and soon dozed off, visions of Mala and the rocky cliff and a flock of loud birds fighting for space in my dreams.
_She was teetering on the edge of the rock, peering down into the water. I tried to call to her to be careful. She looked up and waved to me. Just then a flock of francolins rose into the air, startling her. Mala's arms wheeled, her body tipped sideways, and she tumbled out of my sight down the precipice. The birds shrieked, their calls piercing in the night._
I awoke with a start, the dream fading but leaving a persistent sense of unease. The sun was high, the afternoon heat oppressive. I could still hear the birds calling. No, that was the telephone in my room. I pulled myself out of the chaise, shaking my head to clear the remnants of my daytime nightmare, and walked to the bedside table.
"Yes?" I said, snatching up the receiver. "Hello?"
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Fletcher, but someone left a message for you at the front desk this morning. My apologies if no one informed you earlier. Would you like us to have it delivered to your room?"
"Thank you for offering, but I'd prefer to pick it up," I said, thinking I could use a little walk. "Is the café open?"
"Yes, ma'am. It's past lunchtime, but you can get a snack. Dinner service begins at five."
"I'll be there in a while."
"We'll have your message at the front desk. My name is Jack. If for any reason I'm not here, Eileen will have it at her station."
I thanked him and hung up the phone. I briefly debated changing into a bathing suit. A swim would surely clear the cobwebs, but I decided a cup of tea would do the same without the bother of undressing and then dressing again for dinner. I checked the contents of my shoulder bag for a book in case I wanted to read, and reminded myself to stop at the newsstand to replace the water bottles Mike and I had consumed.
The resort where the foundation was putting me up was situated on Maui's north shore and maintained a rack of bicycles for the convenience of its guests. Since the college was a short ride away, a bike was going to be my preferred choice of transportation, as long as it wasn't raining. If the weather didn't cooperate, there was a bus stop a block away, or the bellhop could call me a cab. The main lobby, an open-air space, faced the street, but the café in the back overlooked Kahului Harbor. I stopped at the front desk for my message and was handed a white envelope with the college's return address and my name printed on the front.
"Would you like to sit outside?" the hostess asked when I approached her podium in the café. A pin in her lapel read: LIVE THE ALOHA SPIRIT.
"That would be lovely."
She led me to a table for four, shaded by a large umbrella, and pulled out a seat for me. "May I get you something to drink? We have POG, piña colada, iced tea, or you can choose a drink from the menu on the table."
"What is POG?" I asked, settling my bag on the seat next to mine.
"It's a Hawaiian specialty, a fruit punch made with passion fruit, orange, and guava juices."
"That sounds wonderful. I'll have that."
The hostess left to put in my order, and I opened the envelope, pausing only to decide if the handwriting on the front was male or female. Female, I decided.
_Dear Mrs. Fletcher,_
_It is urgent that I speak with you about Mala Kapule._
_I'm working in the laboratory all day today, and I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't tell anyone that I contacted you._
_—Grace Latimer_
Grace had included a room number in the new science building under her name.
I looked at my watch just as a waiter in a pink aloha shirt delivered an icy glass of punch sitting on a white doily-covered plate. The juice and his shirt were the same color and I briefly wondered if the uniform had been chosen to match the drink.
"My apologies if I've kept you waiting, madam," he said.
"You haven't kept me waiting at all," I said. "I just remembered an important appointment. I'm afraid I have to go."
"Would you like me to put the POG in a go-cup for you?"
"That would be perfect," I said. "Thank you so much. And please bring me the bill as well."
I left the fruit punch in my room, not wanting to juggle drinking and steering at the same time, and hurried to where the bikes were parked. I was still wearing the tennis shoes I'd changed into for my late-morning hike with Detective Kane. After checking out a bike at the front desk, I headed off to find Grace Latimer.
The campus was quiet when I pedaled in, most of the classes having finished for the weekend. I hoped Grace was still there. She seemed like a diligent type and her note had indicated that she would be working all day, but the clear sky and balmy winds might have tempted her away from her tasks to enjoy the outdoors.
One pair of the science building's glass doors was locked, but the other was open, and I entered the cool, empty hallway. I checked the room numbers, counting down until I found the lab where Grace was working. She was alternately leaning over a microscope and making notes on a pad in a room with a battery of microscopes arrayed on aqua tables with gray tops. Her blond hair hung lankly, and she chewed on the thumbnail of one hand while she used the other hand to fiddle with a focus wheel.
I knocked softly on the side of the open door so as not to startle her, and entered the room. "Grace?" I called softly.
She turned and looked at me, a confused expression on her face. "Oh! Mrs. Fletcher. I almost didn't recognize you."
"I'm sorry to interrupt your work, but your note used the word 'urgent' and I came as soon as I could."
Grace jumped up from her seat and met me at the door. "Please come in," she said. "Sit anywhere." She leaned over the threshold, glancing left and right, then shut the door.
"You've heard about Mala, I assume," she said, taking a seat next to mine.
"Yes. Mike Kane told me this morning. We're teaching a class together."
"The retired detective?"
"Yes."
"Boy, I'd love to hear what _he_ has to say about this."
"He isn't saying much at all," I said. "What do _you_ know?"
"Me? I wasn't there when she died. I left the same time as you and Professor Luzon and his wife."
"But your note said you wanted to speak with me about Mala." I dug in my bag and pulled out the envelope she had left for me at the resort.
"Oh, that. I guess that when I heard that they found her body, I went into shock, had to speak to someone. Still creeps me out to think about it." She shivered. "Did the police tell you anything?"
I wondered if she had news to tell me or was more interested in what _I_ knew. I figured that if she knew that the police believed Mala's death to be an accident, she might withhold information rather than draw attention to herself. I decided to answer her question with one of my own. "How did you learn of Mala's death?"
"Abbott told me."
"Professor Luzon?"
"Yes. The college administration got in touch with him right after the police notified them."
"Why would they contact Professor Luzon?"
"He's the head of the department now. Hadn't you heard?"
"When did that happen?"
"They made the announcement yesterday afternoon."
"What time was this?"
"It was right in the middle of our class on horticulture and landscape maintenance. I was so excited. A lot of fuss was made. It's going to be in the paper, I'm sure. Mala wanted the job; everyone knew that. She might have had a chance if she wasn't so outspoken. There's a lot of politics in academia. People don't expect it, but it's there."
"There aren't many fields in which politics doesn't play some part," I said.
"Abbott knows how to play the game; I'll give him that. He made the case for our work in sustainable agriculture being especially critical to the Hawaiian economy. Money always talks when you're trying to promote your position."
"You don't mean . . ."
"No. No. I don't mean he bribed anyone or anything like that. It's just he kept the big picture in mind."
"What big picture is that?" I asked.
"The college administration is acutely aware of Hawaii's difficulties. The legislature is always financially pressured."
"It would seem to me that every state legislature struggles with finances. Is Hawaii's any different?"
"It is and it isn't. As an island state, it's very difficult for us to maintain the same standard of living as the mainland. You can see why. Almost everything has to be shipped in."
"That must make it expensive to live here."
"Well, that is some gross understatement," she said with annoyance.
I felt my eyebrows rise but decided I wouldn't take offense.
Grace seemed not to realize she had been rude. She glanced down at her thumbnail and continued talking. "The more we can grow, nurture, and manufacture, the less our reliance on imported goods. Of course, the hippies who just want to live off the grid and skip paying taxes give our efforts a bad name. What we want to do—Abbott and I—is develop _systems_ for sustainability and export our knowledge to the rest of the States. It could be big. Very big."
"So you're saying Professor Luzon's economic proposals landed him the chairmanship?"
"Well, no one is confiding in me, but that's my take on it."
"Tell me, what does this have to do with Mala Kapule's death?"
Grace picked at her ragged fingernail and shrugged. "She may have gotten wind of the announcement—or maybe Abbott told her himself. It must have been a terrible blow to her ego."
"You're not seriously suggesting that Mala threw herself off a cliff because she wasn't given the chairmanship of the department, are you?"
"I don't know that she actually jumped, but it's possible the news was so upsetting that she didn't look where she was going."
"Tell me again when you saw Mala last night?"
"Just what I told you, when we were getting the drinks."
"You said she was in a serious discussion with someone. Do you know who that person was?"
Grace nodded. "I think so. He looked to me like her boyfriend, or at least the guy who _was_ her boyfriend. I heard they broke up recently."
Now I felt I was getting somewhere. "What is this boyfriend's name?"
"Carson Nihipali."
"And what does _he_ do?"
Grace's thoughts seemed to have drifted off onto some other topic, so I asked again. "Does Carson Nihipali work here at the college?"
Grace burst out with a short laugh. It was the first time I'd seen an expression on her face that wasn't glum. "Sorry. Carson's as far from academic as you can get," she said, still amused at my question. "He's a 'surfer dude,'" she said, putting on an accent. "And to support his obsession, he works as a deckhand on one of the sunset cruise ships."
He didn't sound like the type of person I'd have expected Mala to find attractive, but I knew enough not to prejudge a man by his occupation or preoccupation, and especially by the description given by someone who clearly felt herself superior.
"Can you tell me where I might find Carson Nihipali? Do you know where he lives?"
"No idea at all," Grace said, the look of displeasure back on her face. "But here, I'll write down the name of the ship he works on. It's out of Lahaina, on the other side of the island. Have you been there?"
"Not yet," I said, "but I'm sure I can find it." _Or a cab driver can find it,_ I thought, taking the paper on which Grace had written "Maui Ocean Star."
She stood. "I'm afraid I have to get back to work," she said. "Sorry if you think I wasted your time."
"You haven't wasted my time at all," I said. "I appreciate your getting in touch with me."
But as I pedaled back to my room at the resort, I wondered why Grace had written me that note. Did she think I knew Mala better than I actually did? Was she expecting to deliver the bad news herself? Some people delight in being the first one to pass along information without regard to whether it will—or perhaps even _because_ it will—upset the listener. Grace knew something she wasn't telling me. I was convinced of that. But would whatever she knew shed light on Mala's death? That I didn't know, but I was determined to find out.
# Chapter Six
'O Wai Kou Inoa? _—_ What Is Your Name? __
Jack was no longer at the front desk when I returned to my hotel, but Eileen was.
"I'm interested in taking tonight's sunset dinner cruise on the _Maui Ocean Star_ ," I told her.
"Do you have a reservation, Mrs. Fletcher?"
"No, but I'm hoping they can accommodate one person at the last minute."
"Would you like me to call and try to reserve a space for you?"
"I would appreciate that very much. I'll also need a taxi to get to Lahaina."
"That won't be a problem."
While Eileen called the cruise company, I went back to my room to change and to check my e-mail. I opened my laptop and paused. I needed to notify Seth Hazlitt of Mala's death. Over the years Barrett Kapule had written so glowingly of his niece that I was certain Seth felt that he knew her, too. But that news would be better delivered by telephone than in an e-mail, and it was already close to midnight in Maine, too late to call.
Instead, taking the advice I'd given my students that morning, I looked to see whether the local newspaper already had a story about Mala's death and what, if any, reader comments might have been left. I logged onto the _Maui News_ site. There was a headline in the local news section, "Woman's Body Found off Wailea Coastal Walk." When I clicked on it, a short article came up:
A 32-year-old woman, a possible drowning victim, was found unresponsive at the base of a cliff off the makai side of the Wailea Coastal Walk this morning. Kihei firefighters responded to the call at 7:25 a.m. Air One was called in to confirm the location. Rescuers borrowed a private kayak to reach the woman. She was transported to shore, where medics pronounced her dead. The woman's name was not released.
There was a link to share the story on social media but no place to put in comments. _Got that one wrong, Jessica,_ I told myself. The newspaper's blogs and columns online did have links for comments, but no one had written about Mala so far, not surprising given how recently she had died and that she hadn't been named in the article.
The phone rang as I slipped a sweater over my shoulders in anticipation of cooler nighttime temperatures. It was Eileen from the front desk.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Fletcher. I was unable to make a reservation for you. The sunset cruise is fully booked. However, the lady who answered the phone said that occasionally there were no-shows and that if you wanted to stop by, there might be an extra seat at the last minute. No guarantee, though."
"Oh, dear," I said, wondering if I was going on a fool's errand in choosing to put in an appearance without a reservation. On the other hand, if my powers of persuasion were sharp, I might be able to talk myself onto the boat. At worst, I could have dinner in Lahaina, wait for the cruise to return, and hopefully get to speak with Mala's former beau Carson Nihipali. Of course, this was assuming that he was working this night. If he wasn't . . . well, I didn't have other plans anyway.
"I think I'll take that chance," I told Eileen.
"In that case, the cab is here and is available whenever you are."
I thanked her, checked my shoulder bag for necessities in the event I was marooned in Lahaina for the evening, and walked to the hotel lobby.
The cab waiting for me was an older-vintage white sedan with a detachable lighted sign on the roof that read AAA TAXI and a slightly askew sign on the door bearing the same name and a phone number. The bellman held the door for me and I slid onto the cracked red leather bench seat in the back. A pine-tree-shaped air freshener dangled from the rearview mirror and filled the cab with a medicinal aroma. The driver's taxi license, which hung from his headrest, was laminated in plastic so scratched it was difficult to read. But the picture showing the gap-toothed smile of the driver matched the face of the man sitting behind the wheel.
"Good evening, Mrs. Fletcher," the driver said, tugging on the peak of his ball cap. "I'm Elijah. I'll be your chauffeur tonight. Would you like a bottle of water?" He lifted a cardboard soda carrier holding two bottles of water. Tucked into other spaces were bags of macadamia nuts and three granola bars.
"No, thank you," I said, "but it's kind of you to offer."
"Not kind," he said, shrugging. "The water is two dollars a bottle, the nuts are five, and the granola bars are three apiece."
"Since I'm going to dinner, I think I'll skip a snack right now," I said.
"Sure thing. I'm driving you to Lahaina Harbor, the Banyon Tree Park, right?"
"I'm taking a sunset dinner cruise," I said. "Does it leave from the park?"
"From the harbor right behind it. Which one you on?"
"The _Maui Ocean Star_."
"Very nice. You will enjoy it. Going to be a clear night. Bright moon."
After our initial conversation, Elijah concentrated on his driving, while I relaxed in my seat, buckled in, and watched the scenery pass by as we made our way to the west coast. Once we were out of town, the storefronts and strip malls were replaced by fields of sugarcane and other vegetation that bordered the highway. On my right, the flatland rose to become the sharp outlines and brown peaks of the West Maui Mountains. Across the valley was the broad flank of the volcano Haleakala. On top, I knew, was the high-altitude observatory about which Mala had been so concerned. I sighed. It would be terrible if her passion to preserve such an ecologically and culturally important site had somehow brought about her death. But I knew that the politics of academia that Grace had referred to paled in comparison with the partisan battles that took place when valuable land and millions of dollars were in the balance. When the stakes grew that high, anyone seen as trying to impede "progress," no matter how legitimate their cause or how valid their arguments, might get crushed in the process—or in Mala's case, get pushed out of the way.
At Ma'alaea, the road curved around to the north, revealing a spectacular expanse of water that had been only a distant view earlier. Marching up the mountain to my right was a line of wind turbines, their huge sails slowly twisting in the winds that swooped in from the sea and cut up the valley to Maui's north coast.
Since he'd been silent for so long, I was surprised when Elijah asked me a question.
I leaned forward. "I beg your pardon?"
"See our wind farm there?"
"Yes, I was just noticing it."
"They're trying to figure out a way to cut back on the oil that has to be brought in. Gas is very expensive here, you know."
"And will the wind energy be able to replace it?"
Elijah shrugged. "The wind maybe covers ten percent of the island's needs. Me, I have solar panels on my house, but they don't help fill the gas tank."
"I guess not."
"You here on vacation, Mrs. Fletcher?"
"Actually, I'm here to teach a class," I said, "but I'm hoping to fit in some recreation time."
"A class? Where are you teaching?"
"Our classroom is on the Maui College campus, but the course is part of training for police recruits."
"No kidding? Maui College, huh? Any chance you know my cousin? She teaches there—or she did."
"Who is your cousin?" I asked as my eyes again took in the plastic-covered license affixed to his headrest. I reached out and tilted it to read his name through the scratches. ELIJAH KAPULE. "Are you related to _Mala_ Kapule?" I asked.
"Oh, yes. Mala was a teacher at the college. She taught about plants and stuff like that. Very sad news about her today. They said she fell off a cliff this morning trying to pick a flower."
"You're Mala's cousin?"
"You know her? I mean, you knew her?"
"Not well, but yes, I knew her. We had coffee together yesterday. I'm so sorry for your loss. She was a lovely young woman. Now that I think about it, she mentioned that she had a cousin who drove a cab."
"Several cousins, actually. Me and my two brothers. We are Triple-A Taxi. It's not our initials or anything. We thought up the name so we'd come first in the phone list. Clever, huh? Works, too. We got a good business."
"Was Barrett Kapule your father?"
"You knew Uncle Barrett, too?"
"I didn't know him personally," I said, "but he was a longtime friend of a close friend of mine."
"Uncle Barrett, he was an old man when he died. It was sad, but he had a good long life. But Mala, she was too young to be taken. We have a phrase in Hawaiian. _'Oia la he koa no ke ano ahiahi; 'oia nei no ke ano kakahiaka._ It means, 'He is a warrior of the evening hours; but this person here is of the morning hours.' She had much more to do, more things to accomplish. It is a terrible loss, not just for our _'ohana_ but for all Maui, even all Hawaii." Elijah fell silent again. Was he wiping away a tear?
I wanted to ask him more about Mala, about her friends he might have known and perhaps others who didn't hold her in such high regard. But I held back. I didn't want to intrude on his grief. Instead, I asked, "Do you know when her funeral will be?"
He shook his head. "Probably next week sometime. The plans haven't been finalized yet."
"Did Mala live with family?"
"Not for some time now. She was independent, you know. But I know Auntie Edie will want to have a celebration of her life. The celebration takes a little time to prepare. They need to make a lot of leis for the family and people who come. And there's always a big table of food. It's not like a _haole_ funeral, all somber. In a Hawaiian funeral, we have music, hula, singing, maybe a video of her. We have so many cultures, so many religions, we mix them up. We take what we like from each one."
"Do you think it would it be all right for me to attend?"
"If you knew Mala, you should come. She would want you to. She loved the old ways, the traditions. Only thing is . . ." He paused. "Can I tell you something?"
"Yes. Of course."
"Please don't wear black. In Hawaii we don't wear black to funerals. White is okay. Aloha clothing is better."
While we were speaking, Elijah had driven through the beginnings of the city of Lahaina. We moved slightly inland away from the chain of beaches and I began to see strip malls and storefronts again. Elijah turned left and then right onto Front Street, which was crowded with automobiles and tourists. We inched forward until a huge banyan tree came into sight; a group of children played tag around its many low branches and hid behind the ropes of aerial roots reaching to the ground.
He pulled to the curb and pointed. "There's too much traffic to get you right in front, but if you go around the park, there will be a row of kiosks along the harbor. The one you want has a little red awning."
I thanked him and held out my credit card.
He shook his head. "No money," he said. "Not from you. It's a gift from Mala."
I tried to object, but he was adamant. "I'm living the aloha spirit today," he said, tapping a button on his lapel that echoed that sentiment. "You enjoy your cruise, and call me if you need a ride back to the hotel." He handed me his card. "If I don't see you again tonight, I hope I see you at my cousin's celebration."
"I'll make certain to be there."
"Good. Have a nice cruise, Mrs. Fletcher, and take care. You are in our _'ohana_ now."
# Chapter Seven
Okole Maluna!—Bottoms Up!
The _Maui Ocean Star_ kiosk was unattended, but the crew of the catamaran was escorting passengers aboard. Two young women—one blond, one brunette, both with deep tans—held clipboards and checked off the names of paying guests as they arrived.
I walked down the wooden gangway and drew near the brunette. Her badge read, BITSY.
"Name, please," she said with a bright smile.
"I'm Jessica Fletcher, but you won't find my name on your list," I said.
Bitsy cocked her head and looked at me with a disappointed expression. "I'm afraid we're fully booked, Ms. Fletcher."
"Yes, I know. The desk clerk at my hotel in Kahului told me, but she also suggested that if I stopped by in person, you might be able to accommodate one more."
"That's a long way to come," Bitsy said, sighing. "You're sure you're by yourself? No one else is going to show up at the last minute?"
"All alone," I said. "And I promise I won't eat much."
She laughed. "If you can wait while I finish with those who have reservations, I'll go check with the captain. I'm pretty sure I can convince him to fit you in."
"I'll count on your charm," I said.
I walked back up the gangway and perched on a bench near the kiosk, watching the preparations being made to ready the ship for the evening's sail. As Bitsy and her blond colleague continued to check in passengers, my attention was drawn to their male counterparts as they geared up to cast off. There were three of them in my line of sight, all in dark green polo shirts and khaki slacks, the same uniform worn by the young women. They bustled about the large two-hulled boat, untying ropes, carrying supplies inside, and ushering guests along the slippery decks. I had no way of knowing whether one of them was Mala's former boyfriend Carson Nihipali but hoped that he was there that night. Grace Latimer had called Carson a "surfer dude." Was that the same as "beach bum"? She hadn't said it in a kindly way, although maybe I was reading something into her comment. I try not to do that, but sometimes I fail.
I wondered at the sort of life these men led on Maui. It was clearly a healthy way to live, being physically active and out on the water in the fresh air. Of course, the Hawaiian sun could do damage, but I assumed that they protected themselves from its most harmful effects. The sun and my fair skin have never been on especially friendly terms.
A taxi pulled up and a couple got out, arguing. "We're going to miss the boat; I just know it." I'd heard that woman's voice before. I strained to get a better look at them. The familiar voice was one half of the older couple from Michigan, Bob and Elaine Lowell, who'd been at my table at the luau. I stood to greet them as they headed toward the catamaran.
"Hello there," I said.
It took a moment before they recognized me.
"Jessica, right?" Bob said, snapping his fingers. "Now, this is a pleasant surprise, indeed, isn't it, Elaine?"
"It's good seeing you again," I said. "Are you going out on the sunset cruise?"
"If we're not too late," Elaine replied. "Bob is such a dawdler. Are you on the cruise, too, Jessica?"
"I'm hoping to be. I just showed up but don't have a reservation. They're trying to accommodate me."
"Heck, there's got to be at least one extra space," Bob said. "Don't you worry. I'll make sure that you're on the cruise. It'd be great to have _two_ lovely ladies on my arm."
"Oh, Bob!"
"Please," I said, "you two get on board and don't worry about me. I'm sure they'll take good care of me. Go ahead, now. I'll catch up with you later."
Bitsy had disappeared onto the catamaran. When she returned, she checked in the Lowells and waved for me to join her.
"The captain said okay," she announced. "I told him your name and he asked whether you were the famous Jessica Fletcher who writes mystery novels. If you are, he'd like you to be his guest."
"That's very generous of him," I said, embarrassed. "I do write mysteries, but as for being famous, I don't know about that . . ."
A short, wiry man yelled from the deck, "Hey, Bitsy, let's move it. It's supposed to be a sunset cruise, not a sunrise trip."
"Better get on board," Bitsy told me, laughing. "Never pays to get the captain mad."
I crossed the gangway onto the catamaran and noticed a row of shoes lined up on the deck. One of the young deckhands met me and said, "Rules, ma'am. Shoes and socks off. Safer for you and less wear and tear on the decks."
Barefooted, I gingerly made my way along one of the side decks to the front of the vessel, where the other guests had gathered. A young couple took turns photographing each other with a cell phone. Two middle-aged gentlemen leaned on the railing observing activity on other docks that serviced the cove. A couple with a daughter whom I pegged at about twelve years old tried to cajole their child not to pout and to enjoy the evening. The Lowells stood talking to the man who'd called out to Bitsy and whom I assumed was the captain, although he wasn't dressed like one, no jaunty white hat with a peak or blue blazer with gold bars on the shoulders or sleeves. Instead, he was in the same green and khaki as his crew. He broke away from the Michigan couple and came to me.
"Mrs. Fletcher?" he said, shaking my hand.
"Please call me Jessica."
"I'm Charlie Reed, owner and captain of the _Maui Ocean Star_. Welcome aboard."
"It's nice to meet you. Thank you so much for agreeing to take me on at the last minute."
"You're very welcome. It's a pleasure to have you as my guest, Jessica. I read lots of murder mysteries, and yours are some of my favorites. Recognized you right away from your picture on the covers."
"I'm flattered," I said. "This is a magnificent boat, if that's the proper description."
"Thank you. There's nothing else like it on Maui. I have to admit, it's my baby. I had a hand in designing every inch and personally sailed her back here to Maui from the California shipyard where she was built."
"I'll look forward to exploring your baby," I said.
He laughed. "You do that," he said pleasantly. "She has quite a lot to show you. I'm honored to have you on board. I'm sure my crew will see to your every need."
"Hey, Charlie," one of the hands called out.
"Please excuse me now," he said to me. "We're about to set sail."
Most people moved downstairs to the large covered cabin, in which eight tables were set up with napkins and bowls of nibbles. As the Lowells passed, they urged me to come along. Bob said, "Don't miss out on the free food, Jessica."
I laughed and said, "Save some for me. I'll be there shortly."
I remained on the catamaran's bow and observed the deckhands smoothly carrying out their tasks as Captain Reed used the engines to back away from the pier, turn, and head for open water where he could unfurl the sails. I tried to decide which of the crew was Mala Kapule's former beau Carson Nihipali and used my imaginary powers to envision each of them with her. I finally settled on the tallest of the three. He was a handsome fellow, tanned and trim and with broad shoulders and a shock of unruly dirty-blond hair that rested on his ears and neck. A bit older than the others, he had light blue eyes with fine lines radiating out from the corners, a result perhaps from squinting into the sun—or maybe from smiling. He was busy curling a length of rope and getting things shipshape, as they say.
I debated how to approach him. He'd finished his chore, tucking the last loop of the line in place, and walked toward the stern. I wasn't sure what to say. Did he know of Mala's death? If so, would he resent my bringing it up to him? Since they were an ex-couple, it was possible that he hadn't been informed of her passing. If he had, he obviously hadn't gone into a grieving shell; he was here working.
"Good evening," I said as he reached me.
"Hi," he said, flashing me a boyish grin. "Enjoying yourself?"
"Very much. It's a beautiful night for a sail."
As he started to walk away, I said, "Excuse me, but are you Carson Nihipali?"
He turned and gave me a strange look. "Yeah," he said, drawing the word out.
"I apologize if I've mispronounced your name," I said, "but I'm still trying to get the hang of the Hawaiian language."
He cocked his head. "You said it just fine. Do I know you?" he asked, a smile still playing on his lips.
"No. We've never met, but I was a friend of Mala Kapule."
"Mala?" He shook his head, his smile gone. "You knew her?"
"Not well, but we did strike up a friendship. I was saddened by her sudden death. I understand that you and she were close."
His face mirrored the debate he was going through.
"I only mention it," I said, "because someone told me about your relationship with Mala and that you worked here on the _Ocean Star_. You know about the . . . about the accident?"
"I heard," he said shaking his head. "I couldn't believe it."
"It's hard to accept. Had you seen her recently?"
"No."
"Really?"
"Why would you ask?"
"Because someone thought they saw you with her last night."
"Yeah, well, they were wrong. Look, I'm sorry about what happened, but I have to get back to work."
His comment struck me as oddly cold.
"Hey, Carson, Charlie needs another bag of ice for the bar," Bitsy called to him.
"Could we find some time to talk?" I asked. "I'd really appreciate it."
"I can't. Sorry. You can see I'm busy."
"It doesn't have to be now. Perhaps after we get back to the dock? I'd be happy to buy you a drink."
"I don't know." He hesitated, then changed his mind. "No, I don't think so. I have to go."
I watched him disappear down into the cabin and tried to sort out my initial reaction to him.
I'd obviously taken him by surprise, and his hesitancy to talk about Mala was understandable considering the circumstances. Still, there was something off-putting about him that stayed with me as the cruise progressed. Not that those thoughts were all consuming. It was a magnificent night on the water. Bitsy's coworker brought me a mai tai, an island specialty, which I sipped while watching the sun sink below the horizon, turning the sky and Pacific Ocean into a rainbow of colors that can be enjoyed only in tropical paradises like Maui.
I decided to join the others in the cabin and found that most of the people were crowded around the bar enjoying what seemed like a never-ending supply of drinks served up by members of the crew, including Bitsy and Carson. The array of appetizers on the bar and tables was impressive—cheese and crackers, vegetable crudités, prawns with cocktail sauce, California rolls, pork sliders with mango sauce, mushrooms stuffed with crabmeat, and teriyaki chicken skewers—enough to constitute a meal in itself, but we were told that a full dinner would follow.
The Lowells insisted that I join them at their table. Bob was in an expansive mood, becoming more so with each successive drink. He took to telling jokes, some bordering on the risqué, which brought forth an "Oh, Bob!" from Elaine. I enjoyed their company but had trouble focusing on the conversation. My attention kept shifting to Carson, who passed through the cabin numerous times. When he took over behind the bar, he engaged the passengers in lighthearted banter, with which he seemed comfortable, but each time I saw him, his eyes avoided mine.
The boat anchored in waters close to a rock cliff, the crevices of which hosted nesting petrels. Belowdecks, a lavish buffet was laid out on the counter together with a selection of wines. We queued up to fill our plates and glasses. I wasn't hungry anymore, so I went easy on my selections, grateful to find a tub of ice with water bottles at the end of the line. Not wishing to be rude, I rejoined the Lowells at their table.
The passengers scattered once dinner was served, most of them going topside to eat and enjoy the evening breeze. When dessert was served, Bob came back from the bar with a second helping of chocolate chip cookies and vanilla ice cream and almost sent the plate flying into Elaine and me when he tripped and stubbed his big toe. Apologizing for the colorful language that spilled from his mouth, he hopped to his seat and examined his foot.
I noticed that Carson was alone at the bar and took advantage of the opportunity.
"Delicious dinner," I said.
"Oh, thanks," he said as he busied himself placing used glasses into a dishwasher rack.
"I really would appreciate having some time to speak with you," I said. "The offer still holds to buy you a drink when we're back in port."
"It's kind of you," he said, "but I don't think so. Thanks anyway."
I knew that I had limited time before others came to the bar.
"It was such a surprise the way Mala died," I said, keeping my tone pleasant and nonconfrontational.
He adopted a thoughtful expression. "I couldn't believe it," he said, "although Mala was—well, she was a real free spirit." He shook his head, summoning up his smile again. "Climbing down a rock ledge to grab a plant. That's Mala."
"Is that what you've heard about how she died?"
"Yeah, sure. Isn't that what happened?"
"There's some question about it."
"Really?" His voice reflected his skepticism. "What question?"
"Well, Mala was a somewhat controversial figure, wasn't she?"
"You mean about plants?"
"Actually I was thinking more about the telescope up on Haleakala. She told me that it's a contentious issue on the island."
"That's for sure," he said. "Charlie—the guy who owns this ship—he's always talking about it." He lifted the full rack of dirty glasses and added it to a stack of crates.
"Does he agree with Mala that putting the telescope on the volcano is a bad idea?"
"Just the opposite," he said, laughing. He concentrated on filling another rack with dishes and flatware, perhaps hoping I would take the hint and leave. When I didn't, he said, "I heard them say that you write mystery novels."
"That's right."
"Are you going to write a book about the telescope and the volcano?"
"Goodness, no. I'm here on Maui to teach a class to police recruits. I just happened to be at the luau the night Mala died. She was there, too."
"Was she? Since we broke up we didn't talk much."
"I thought you might have been there, too. It seemed as though everyone on Maui was."
"Nope! I was working. No time for luaus." He turned his back to me as he added the rack to the pile.
"I looked for her, but we never connected," I said. "I should be honest with you. I'm asking about her because I wonder whether Mala really died as the result of an accident."
He spun around and started to respond, but we were joined by others at the bar, and I knew it was time to end the conversation.
"Look," he said in a low voice, and leaned toward me. "I don't know anything about how she died. Maybe you can make it up in a book. All I know is that we had a great relationship while it lasted and I'm sorry that she's dead. Now, excuse me. We're on our way back, and I have responsibilities up on deck."
I went back to the Lowells' table, where Bob had gathered a few other passengers and was entertaining them with stories. His wife, Elaine, looked at me and winked. "He is a handsome devil, isn't he?" she said.
"Who?"
"That young crew member you were talking to at the bar. I think he has eyes for you."
Her husband heard the comment and said, "He's too young for women your age." He directed it at his wife, but I knew that he'd included me in his comment.
"As though all those young cuties in bikinis walking around the beach don't catch your eye, Bob."
"Different for a man," he said. "Nothing wrong with an older guy taking up with a younger gal."
Elaine rolled her eyes and said to me, "I noticed him at the luau. All the women were looking at those big shoulders and blue eyes."
"He was at the luau?"
"Oh, I'm pretty sure. Couldn't help but notice him. You didn't?"
I shook my head.
"Well, I could see that you were tired last night. A bit of jet lag, I guess. I was, too. Of course, Bob was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, like he always is. Wanted to party into the wee hours. I don't know where he gets his energy. Me? I was asleep two minutes after the luau."
She continued talking about him, but her words went by me as I wondered why Carson Nihipali had insisted that he hadn't seen Mala lately and was adamant that he hadn't been at the luau.
Determined to enjoy the sail back to the dock at Lahaina, I tried to put aside what I'd learned from Elaine Lowell. It was possible that she'd been mistaken about him. Perhaps it was another handsome blond surfer who had caught her eye. Not that it meant anything in and of itself. Mala's death was thought to have occurred later that night. But what nagged at me was his denial. Professor Luzon's assistant, Grace, had also identified Carson as the man she thought she'd seen talking with Mala. Was she wrong, too? If it had been Carson, why wouldn't he admit it? Why had he said he'd been working?
I was the last passenger to gather my shoes before disembarking and getting into vans that would take us back to our hotels, a nice bonus offered to guests by Charlie Reed. I'd hoped to travel in the van driven by Carson Nihipali, but it wasn't to be. I did stop to chat with the skipper of the _Ocean Star_ before leaving.
"You have such a wonderful crew," I said, "so pleasant and accommodating."
"They'd better be that and more," Charlie said, holding my elbow as he escorted me down the gangway. "I only hire men and women who enjoy being with people."
"That hiring philosophy certainly pays off," I said. "I was especially impressed with a young man named Carson."
Charlie laughed. "Everybody loves Carson," he said, "especially the ladies. He's older than he looks, you know. He must be pushing thirty. My other deckhands are just out of college. I figured Carson would add a little maturity to the staff, but he's just as flaky as the rest of them. If the surf is up, I can't always count on a full crew. Now, let me make sure you don't miss your ride."
I was about to ask the skipper if Carson had worked the previous evening's cruise when he changed the subject. "It was a pleasure having you aboard, Jessica. Would you sign a book for me if I got it to you at your hotel?"
"I'd be delighted," I said, and told him where I was staying.
He repeated it to the driver as he helped me into the van.
The Lowells were in the same vehicle that would take me back to my hotel. Bob Lowell sat between his wife and me and draped his arms over our shoulders. Although it made me uncomfortable, I decided not to say anything.
"Everybody have a good time?" he asked.
"It was lovely," I said.
"That is some boat," he said. "Could probably sail it around the world. Reminds me of a joke. This sailor comes into a bar and . . ."
Fortunately, the hotel where the Lowells were staying was the first drop-off. It was situated on a vast expanse of land that sloped down to the ocean and was where the luau the previous night had been held.
"How's this for an idea?" Bob said as he and Elaine climbed over me to get to the door that the driver slid open. "We have dinner together tomorrow night, my treat, and then we find some show to take in, maybe a hula-dancing show. You can show off your stuff again. That was some demonstration. They can't only have hula-dancing at luaus, right?" He asked our driver, who nodded. "See? They do have other hula shows. Are you up for it, Jessica?"
"I'm afraid I have another engagement," I said, feeling that my little white lie was justified.
"How about the next night?" he called out as the driver started to slide the door closed.
"Sorry," I said, "but I can't think that far ahead. Too many mai tais."
Another white lie.
"Well," Lowell said cheerfully, "you know where we're staying. Give us a jingle."
I nodded and waved good night as the van pulled away, and was glad when we reached my hotel. As I walked to my room I found myself mumbling, "Oh, Bob! Oh, Bob," and had to smile. They were nice people, but as my dear friend Seth Hazlitt might say, "I'd hate to be seated next to him on a long flight."
Seth! He didn't know about Mala yet. That was a call I'd have to make tomorrow.
# Chapter Eight
He Ali'i Ka 'Āina. He Kauwā Ke Kanaka _—_ Ancient Hawaiian Saying Meaning: The Land Is a Chief, Man Its Servant
My intention upon returning to the hotel was to climb into bed and get a good night's sleep. But it wasn't to be. Mike Kane and I had to teach another class in the morning even though it was Sunday. The police department hadn't wanted to take our students away from the more hands-on training that was conducted during the week.
I'd prepared a lesson plan I would use during the class and spent time going over my notes, jotting down additional ideas on a lined pad of paper. The problem was that my attention kept shifting from the material at hand to Mala Kapule.
While the consensus seemed to be—at least at that juncture—that she'd been victim of an unfortunate accident, Mike Kane had questioned the finding. The instincts of a man of his caliber and experience—a highly respected detective who was still revered by members of the Maui Police Department after having retired—were not to be ignored. Nor, to my mind, were my own reservations, despite my brief acquaintance with Mala. Over the years, I'd learned to give more credence to my intuition; call it a hunch. Of course I believe in facts and evidence, and there was nothing to prove that Mala had died at someone else's hand—at least not yet. I've always enjoyed a statement that former New York senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan once addressed to a colleague who was spewing erroneous information: "You're entitled to your own opinions, sir," the eloquent senator had said, "but not to your own facts." Facts are always to be respected; however, one's inner feelings were to be heeded, too.
I wrote down the word "Motivation" on a fresh page and underlined it twice.
One of the subjects I intended to introduce at the Sunday class was the question of motive in a murder investigation. Not that Maui had many murders to solve. In fact, there were few, if any, in recent history. Nevertheless, a police department has to prepare for all eventualities, and with that logic, I could reasonably raise the topic. Then, too, motive applied to every crime; my counsel on why a town's rumor mill merited attention was still valid. I had examples from my own life that had too often transported me from the writer of murder mysteries to an active participant in the solving of real murders. I wouldn't mention to the class that one of my good friends back home in Cabot Cove often chides me about becoming entangled in real crime. Of course, Seth Hazlitt knows that it was never my intention to become involved. It just seems to happen. He would say it again, I was sure, if I let him know my suspicions about Mala's fall. Better to simply tell him the official police version—as of now—rather than upset him with unsubstantiated innuendo, no matter how earnestly I believed it. I made a mental note to call him in the morning. I couldn't put it off any longer.
I jotted down a number one next to "Motivation" and wrote "Relationships" on the next line.
Relationships between a victim and a murderer often aren't obvious. What might have seemed to be a healthy and positive association—even a loving one—could be cast in a very different light by a careless comment from someone who knew both parties. In Cabot Cove, a small town growing larger with each passing year, casual conversations at Sassi's Bakery, Mara's Luncheonette on the dock, or the bar at Peppino's Restaurant could be a rich vein of useful observations for someone engaged in solving a murder, if that someone was tuned in to what was being said. Did the victim owe money to another person? Was he or she involved in a business deal gone bad? Was the wife or husband in what appeared to be a picture-perfect marriage entangled in a secret love affair that was discovered by the spouse? A suspect who claims never even to have met the victim can be shown to be a liar by a friend who in an off-the-cuff remark over a drink reveals that she'd seen them together.
Of course, I wasn't in Cabot Cove, where I might overhear a comment that would shed light on Mala's death. I knew only what I'd been told and what she'd said.
I hadn't looked at the packet of materials she'd given me over coffee on the day we'd first met. She'd certainly been passionate about the cause she espoused concerning the construction project atop Haleakala.
I put my pad down and began perusing the clippings and position papers contained in the envelope.
The telescope was a $300 million venture, with most of the funds coming from the United States government. Hawaii's two senators had done a good job of lobbying for the money. A number of lawsuits had been filed by Mala's group and another that opposed the telescope, and these had caused repeated construction delays. The contractor, Cale Witherspoon, the lowest bidder, whose company was based in Los Angeles, claimed that the holdups were costing taxpayers $750,000 a month. He also stated that unless construction was resumed soon, $146 million in federal stimulus funds would be withdrawn.
Money! There was a lot at stake financially, especially for Mr. Witherspoon's construction firm. He was quoted as saying, "I have dozens of people sitting on their hands doing nothing—and being paid, I might add—while this pathetic group of do-gooders stands in the way of scientific progress. They ought to be ashamed of themselves. What's more important: advancing scientific knowledge and creating well-educated men and women, or protecting pretty flowers and cuddly little animals? As for violating Hawaiian myths and sacred grounds, Maui isn't your great-grandfather's Hawaii. This is the twenty-first century." A photo of him accompanied the article. He was a big, rawboned man wearing a white ten-gallon cowboy hat and fringed deerskin jacket, someone whose physical presence warned that he was not a man to be trifled with, a my-way-or-the-highway kind of guy.
His statement had been unnecessarily harsh, and I wondered whether he'd crossed the line and had insulted men and women of Maui who might be on the fence about the project.
There were statements from representatives of the University of Hawai'i, who also criticized citizens like Mala for standing in the way of science and education. One such spokeswoman cited a special grant of $20 million attached to the telescope project from the federal government to train Hawaiians in what was termed STEM: science, technology, engineering, and mathematics. In fact, that was the focus of the new science building on the college campus, the one where Mala had an appointment, and where I had found Grace Latimer working in the lab.
From what I read, the telescope would be the largest solar telescope in the world, fourteen stories high and five stories deep, requiring a forty-foot excavation. Its purpose was to enable astrophysicists to study solar wind and solar flares and how they influence the earth's climate, an impressive undertaking to be sure.
The final item I pulled from the envelope was a long interview with Mala in the _Maui_ _News_. A wave of sadness swept over me as I saw her photo, her large, beautiful brown eyes reflecting the sort of grit she demonstrated in leading the protest against the solar telescope. During the interview she said:
Haleakala is a precious site for all Hawaiians. It is known as the House of the Sun, or _Ala hea ka la_ , the path to call the sun. For many Hawaiians Haleakala is the physical manifestation of the goddess Pele, and there was a time when only priests were allowed to set foot in the crater. The land belongs to the Hawaiian people and hosts a trove of biodiversity they have protected for centuries. No one, not even our government, has a right to build on it without their permission. Maui has already accommodated the scientific community with the high-altitude observatory currently installed on the summit. Now this sacred temple will be further trampled by men and women for whom the site is meaningless, except for their own selfish interests. There comes a time when we must say "Enough!" The telescope must be stopped at all costs for the sake of the Hawaiian people.
A spokesman for the University of Hawai'i was quoted at the end of the piece: "I find it ironic that Ms. Kapule, herself a scientist and academician, would take such a vehement stand against the pursuit of knowledge."
By midnight the day had caught up with me, and I undressed and got ready for bed. But I continued to think of Mala and her demise and found myself hoping that she had indeed died in an accident brought about by her interest in the flora of Maui. But that was purely a selfish desire on my part. If she had slipped and fallen, I could mourn her death, celebrate her life, and get on with my own.
But if she'd died at someone's hands, it meant spending what time I had on Maui going through the painful process of trying to understand why she'd been killed and who'd killed her.
If Mala had been murdered, the pain for her family and friends was compounded by another perspective: It was a betrayal of the aloha spirit, that yearning to dwell in harmony and love that Hawaiians strive to live by.
# Chapter Nine
'O Ka Manawa Kēia No Ke Ko'ala 'Ana! _—_ It's Barbecue Time!
The scenery surrounding the road leading into the famed Iao Valley was lush and green, steep tree-covered mountains reaching skyward, shading the ground from the sun's intense rays. I leaned back in Mike's SUV and let the cool breezes coming in the open window soothe me. It had been a tense morning, starting with my call to Cabot Cove.
• • •
I had searched for the right words—gentle ones to soften the blow—to deliver the news of Mala's death to Seth, but I had failed. Instead, thanks to a faulty telephone connection, I'd ended up shouting that Mala had fallen to her death.
"What do you mean, she fell on her hip?" came Seth's annoyed voice.
"No, Seth. Mala fell off a cliff. I'm so sorry to have to tell you this. She was such a lovely young woman. She died from her injuries."
"What did she lie about?"
When I finally got across the message that there had been a dreadful accident and that our mutual acquaintance had perished from her fall, there was silence on the line. "I'll call you later," he said. Even with the static interference, I could hear the grief and sadness in his voice.
After we hung up, I opened my laptop and quickly wrote Seth an apologetic note. It was morning in Hawaii but afternoon at home. Seth would probably be cooking an early dinner for himself. He might be poring over the sections of the Sunday paper he'd saved to give a closer read, or opening a book he'd been planning to start, or perhaps reviewing charts for patients he would be seeing in the coming week. These were his quiet hours, a relaxing interlude after a busy week and before another one began, a time I knew that he treasured. And I had broken into his peaceful Sunday with a grim announcement.
• • •
Our Sunday class hadn't gone smoothly either. Perhaps resentful that the police department was co-opting their weekend, our class of police recruits was in a foul mood. I also sensed that many of them were suffering from the effects of a Saturday night spent in obviously more entertaining pursuits.
Mike and I struggled to keep their attention, reminding them to quiet down, doing a virtual song and dance to pique their interest until the former detective threw up his hands, parked himself in a chair in front of the whiteboard, and sat seething until the chatter died and an uncomfortable silence took its place.
"I would have been happy to sleep late this morning," he finally said. "I'm sure Mrs. Fletcher would have, too. We didn't need to haul ourselves over here to try to pound some valuable information into your hard heads. If you don't want to be here, leave. Don't waste my time, her time"—he pointed at me—"and yours gossiping about who passed out from too many jiggle shots.
"You're supposed to be _cops_. Some people may say that word with derision, but I say I was a cop—I _am_ a cop—with pride. A cop knows how to work a scene so it reveals its secrets. A cop knows who to watch and who can be ignored. Cops know, no matter how tough the situation, they can rely on fellow cops to watch their back, to support them, to face danger together, to protect the public." He paused, and his voice, which had been rising, fell back to almost a whisper. "But I don't want you at my back if you don't have enough respect for the job that you whine about having to work on the weekend. Let me tell you something—those criminals out there, they don't know about taking the weekend off. It's maybe their favorite time to steal, to get drunk and punch someone, to wreck a car, to pull out a knife. So get used to it."
Mike slapped his knees and stood, an ironic smile on his face. "I could tell you some really disgusting stories of stuff that goes down on the weekends, but I think I'll let you find that out for yourselves. And now, if you think you're grown-up enough to sit quietly for—" He made a show of looking at his watch. "For the fifteen minutes we have left in our class, I'll turn it over to Mrs. Fletcher."
All eyes turned to me. _Thanks a lot, Mike. That's some act you want me to follow_. But I managed to get through the quarter hour remaining, going over the material to be covered and putting lists I'd prepared up on the board, grateful to hear the tapping of keys as the recruits took notes.
• • •
"Tough class today, huh?" Mike said as we drove through a thickly forested section of the steep road.
"I have to admit," I said, "when I was a substitute English teacher in my former life, there were some days it didn't pay to get out of bed. Today, it looked like it was going to be one of those days, but you managed to get them back on track. Of course, that was a pretty dirty trick turning them over to me after you had whipped them into submission."
He chuckled. "I thought you handled it pretty well. You know, in a sense it was a really good lesson for them. You showed them how to hold tight to a goal under difficult circumstances. It's a lesson they're gonna have to learn pretty fast on the job. A cop's best quality is don't-give-upness."
"You're adding words to the dictionary?"
"It should be one. 'Stubborn' doesn't quite cover it. Can't tell them to 'bird-dog' it. These kids don't know what a bird dog __ is. In this business, you only get places if you don't give up. Yeah, 'don't-give-upness.' I like it. So do I call up Webster and tell him to put it in his next edition?"
"If you can call up Noah Webster, who's been dead for a hundred and seventy years, you're a better man than I am, Gunga Din."
Mike Kane howled and pounded the steering wheel.
"Hey," he said as he passed a slow-moving truck, "did you notice that I cleaned up this buggy for you?"
"As a matter of fact, I did," I said. "I'm flattered, although all the fast-food wrappers added character to it."
"That's what I always tell my wife, Lani, but she doesn't see it that way. I'll tell her what you said."
"Please don't," I said. "I want her to like me."
"Oh, no fear on that score. I've told her all about you. She's dying to meet you."
As we drove into the valley, I kept swiveling my head to take in the verdant landscape that rose majestically on either side of the road. It was like entering a primordial jungle, and I wondered whether dinosaurs once roamed here. We pulled into a parking lot shaded by trees, where Mike found a space at the end of a long line of vehicles. Families carried large coolers and boxes of food. One man carted a portable grill, his two youngsters following with bags of charcoal.
"Here we are," Mike announced. "Iao Valley." He pronounced the name "EE-ow."
"From the way it's spelled, I would've pronounced it 'Eye-AY-oh,'" I said.
"You'll get the hang of the Hawaiian language," he said. "There's Lani and our group over there."
I looked in the direction he pointed and saw two dozen men, women, and children gathered around a large kettle barbecue on the banks of a wide, fast-moving stream. Dozens of other large groups also congregated around barbecue grills.
"You have a large family," I commented as we walked in that direction.
"Not all blood relations," he said, "neighbors, too. Everybody becomes family at the Sunday cookout."
Mike's wife saw us and closed the gap. She gave her husband a quick kiss on the cheek and extended her arms to me. "So this is the beautiful woman who's been keeping my husband occupied," she said with mirth in her voice. She wore a flowing, vividly colored yellow-and-red dress. Her inky black hair was worn short, her round face was free of lines, and her smile was high wattage.
"I'm afraid that I've been trying to spend as much time with your husband as possible to learn from him. His instincts are impressive."
"Instincts about crime," she said. "He's not always so instinctive when it comes to more mundane things like picking up after himself around the house." She winked at her husband and linked arms with him. "Come, join us, have a chi chi."
I asked what a chi chi was as she led me to a table where two oversized thermos containers stood amid dozens of plastic cups.
"A classic Hawaiian drink," Mike answered. "Vodka, pineapple juice, coconut cream, and a little sugar. You'll love it."
After handing me my drink, he turned in a circle, arms outstretched, and proclaimed, "Is this not the most beautiful place on earth?"
"It is lovely," I said.
"Four thousand acres of untouched beauty," he said. "Look over there. The Iao Needle."
He pointed to a green-mantled rock that jutted straight up into the air.
"More than a thousand feet tall, taller than the Eiffel Tower. Hawaiians consider it a symbol of Kanaloa, the god of the underworld."
I laughed. "There seems to be a Hawaiian god for everything."
He laughed, too. "Part of our charm. With so many gods looking over us, we're always safe. Come, meet the others."
The next hours flew by quickly. It was a spirited group. The children were full of energy but well behaved, listening to their parents when they were getting out of hand. I never learned of the relationships between many of the people, but that didn't matter. The warmth that prevailed was immensely satisfying, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. The men in the group cooked enough meat on the grill to feed every Hawaiian god within miles, and a combination of the chi chi and food made me sleepy.
"I'm going to take a stroll," I told Mike.
"Don't go too far," he said. "There's a storm brewing at the headwaters of the stream. It can flood before you know it. We'll be packing up soon."
"I'll keep you in my sight," I assured him and set out along the streambed. A number of older children frolicked in the water, and some teenagers jumped from rocks into a spot where it widened and appeared deep enough for them to not be hurt.
I passed other "families" enjoying the pristine day and being together. Many waved to me and said, "Aloha," and I returned the greeting, which now came naturally to me. The friendliness reminded me of Cabot Cove, where waves from both friends and strangers were frequent as one walked through town.
I looked back to see if Mike was summoning me, but he was busy tossing a Frisbee with another man. I went a little farther but stopped when I saw a familiar face, Charlie Reed, the owner and skipper of the _Maui Ocean Star_ , on which I'd enjoyed my dinner cruise the previous evening.
"Well, hello again," he said. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"I'm here thanks to my teaching partner, Mike Kane," I said. "He was good enough to invite me to join his family."
"Oh, yeah, right. Kane, Detective Kane," he said. "He's supposed to be some sort of a legend on Maui."
It didn't sound as if he was impressed with Mike's celebrated reputation.
"He's quite a man."
Reed's nod was noncommittal. "Say," he said, "I have your book in my car. I was going to send it over to your hotel. How about signing it right now?"
He fetched the book and I inscribed it to him, citing his magnificent catamaran and the cruise I'd taken on it.
"Thanks, Jessica. Are you, uh—?"
I cocked my head.
"Are you involved in some way with what happened to Mala Kapule?"
"I'm not sure what you mean by 'involved.'"
"Rumors are floating around—I mean, some people are saying—uh, that she might not have been the victim of an accident. The cops questioned me, too. That was annoying. Of course, I was out on the water, so I wouldn't know anything about how she died."
"Really? As I understand it, the police are labeling her death an accident."
"That's a relief. Mala was a pain to a lot of people, but to think that someone might have killed her is—well, it's ridiculous. Don't you agree?"
"As a matter of fact—"
A brilliant bolt of lightning slashing through the sky on the horizon was followed by a succession of thunderclaps. We both looked up.
"That's some storm coming our way," he said, tucking my book inside his jacket under his arm.
"So Detective Kane warned me."
"You were saying," he said.
"Oh, yes. It's true that the police think Mala was the victim of a tragic accident, but I understand enough doubt exists to keep the case open." I watched his face carefully.
"Doubt? Who has doubts?"
"I wouldn't really know. I'm a newcomer here."
He laughed. "Doubts! It's absurd."
"Is it? You said a moment ago that Mala was a pain to many people. I think that's how you put it."
"Sure. Everybody knows that. She and her group of bleeding hearts have kept the telescope project from going forward. They've been standing in the way of progress at every step. That telescope is good for Maui and for Hawaii in general—bring in lots of money, create jobs, do good things for the island, especially the native population—but nobody could get through to her. She was a pain in my a— Never mind. Every time progress was made, she and her lawyer friends would file another suit in court and everything came to a standstill again."
"She was passionate in her beliefs," I said.
"Obstinate, you mean, inflexible, like everyone else who agreed with her. We tried to talk sense into them, but it was useless, and—"
More lightning and thunder interrupted him, and a sudden strong gust of wind sent my hair flying.
"Mr. Reed," I said, "when you say that 'we' tried to talk sense into them, who do you mean?"
"The committee," he replied. "Everyone with a stake in the telescope belongs to it: our elected officials, the university, businesspeople, everyone. We've been fighting Kapule's group from the beginning. Maybe now that she's dead, things will ease up and it can go forward."
The callousness of his attitude startled me.
Charlie must have sensed that his comments might be offensive and covered it with a laugh. "Now, don't take me wrong," he said, "I'm really sorry that she died. Beautiful girl. Aside from our differences about the telescope, I liked her, liked her a lot."
"I'm sure she would have been happy to hear that."
I heard my name called and looked back to see Mike Kane headed in our direction, waving his arm.
"I think Detective Kane and his family are getting ready to leave. You'll have to excuse me. It was nice to see you again," I said, not sure that it was.
"Same here, Jessica. Thanks for signing the book." He thumped his fist on my novel underneath his jacket.
I intercepted Mike and we walked back to where people were hastily packing up supplies.
"Sorry to interrupt you," he said, "but once the rain comes this stream will be overflowing within minutes. Can be dangerous. I saw that you were talking to Charlie Reed."
"Yes. He had me sign one of my books. I met him last night on his catamaran."
"The sunset cruise."
"Yes, it was a lovely experience."
"He talk about the telescope and Mala Kapule?"
"Just now, yes. He was no fan of her efforts to stop its completion."
Mike gave a snort. "That's putting it mildly. He's one of the biggest financial supporters of a so-called committee that's been fighting her group every step of the way."
"Sounds as though there are some very powerful people on that committee. I'm sure they have a lot more money than Mala and her supporters do."
"True, but from what I've heard, she was some tenacious lady."
I helped Mike's family and friends pack picnic supplies in the cars and had delivered my final load when the rains came, a torrent, sheets of water being tossed about by the increasing wind.
"Just in time," Mike said as we ducked into his SUV. His wife was in the car that had brought her to the cookout, and she waved at us as we joined a procession of vehicles leaving the valley.
"I'm sorry that you have to drive me back to the hotel," I said as he leaned forward to better see through the windshield.
"Not a problem," he said. "You have plans for later?"
I hesitated before I admitted, "Nothing specific. I was thinking I might stop by Mala's home."
"Why?"
"Oh, I don't know, just to pay my respects, maybe gain a sense of how she lived, feel close to her."
"That's as good an excuse as any," he said.
"What do you mean?"
"You're convinced that she didn't fall off that cliff by accident, aren't you?"
I gave him an ironic smile. "You're reading my mind."
"Maybe you're reading _my_ mind. Know where she lived?"
"No."
"I can find out easily enough."
"Oh, Mike, I've taken you from your family too much already."
"Lani will understand. I'll call her."
I was pleased that he offered to go with me, and didn't protest any further. He called on his cell phone and left a message on his home answering machine: "Driving Mrs. Fletcher to see where Mala Kapule lived. Don't hold dinner for me in case we run late. Love you, baby."
Obviously the Kanes had a solid, trusting marital relationship, much the same as my husband Frank and I enjoyed when he was alive. I love being around couples who exhibit that sort of easy acceptance of each other and their individual needs and aspirations. It was a bittersweet moment. I sighed at the remembrance, sat back, and enjoyed the sound of rain pelting the roof of the SUV. I was content; I was not the only one who suspected intrigue behind Mala's untimely death.
# Chapter Ten
E Komo Mai—Welcome, Come In
Mike checked the telephone directory and got Mala's address, which he told me was close to the airport and the college and not far from where I was staying in Kahului.
I had assumed that he would have asked the police for the information, and said so.
"Yeah, I could have called in for it, but sometimes if you do it yourself, it's faster," he said. "Also, this way we don't raise any eyebrows. Not that anyone would have objected, but they don't have to know my business all the time."
Twenty minutes later we pulled into the driveway of an unassuming two-story house with a fancy red sports car in the carport.
Mike whistled. "That's some set of wheels."
The rain had stopped, and a young man and woman who'd been sitting on the small porch in front stood at our arrival and came down the three steps to greet us.
" _Aloha_. I'm Mike Kane. This is Jessica Fletcher."
_"Aloha,"_ the woman said. The man shook Mike's hand.
"This was where Mala Kapule lived?" Mike asked.
"Yes," replied the woman. "You're friends?"
"Not exactly," Mike said.
"I knew her," I said, "but not well. We met at the college where she taught."
"You're aware that—?"
"That she died?" I said. "Yes. Are you related to her?"
"Cousins," said the man. "I'm Joshua. This is Lily."
The sound of voices from inside the house reached us. Lily said, "Other cousins."
"I'm so sorry for your loss," I said.
"I've heard your name," Joshua said to Mike. "Is this an official visit?"
"I'm former Maui PD, retired, so this is more like an unofficial visit. Mrs. Fletcher wanted to see where Mala lived and—"
I completed Mike's statement. "I wanted to extend my condolences to the family, and I have a letter from a friend back home for Mala's aunt, Mrs. Barrett Kapule, but I don't know where she lives. Perhaps one of you could give me directions to her home."
"You can give it to Auntie Edie right now. She's inside," Lily said.
"Oh, thank you." I reached into a pocket in my shoulder bag and withdrew the letter from Seth that I had promised to deliver. His words of condolence were about his friend Barrett, but now the Kapule family had a second bereavement to contend with.
"Would you mind telling us what you've been told about Mala's death?" I asked.
The two looked at each other before Lily turned back to me. "There doesn't seem to be any question about that. Cousin Mala tripped and fell off a cliff while going after some type of plant. That's what the police told Auntie Edie."
"You're right," Mike said. "That's the way it's on the books."
"I hear a big 'but' in that," Joshua said.
Mike shrugged. "It's only been a short time since she died," he said, "and it's always been my experience that a case shouldn't be closed until every angle has been looked at, every possible cause of death ruled out."
Another glance passed between the couple before Lily asked, "Are you suggesting that Mala might have killed herself?"
Mike shook his head. "I didn't say that, did I?"
"Then do you think someone else killed her?"
"I'm not suggesting anything," he said.
There was an awkward moment of silence finally broken by Lily. "Did you wish to come inside?"
"I wouldn't want to intrude if this is a bad time," I said, not adding that I was hoping that we'd be asked. "If it is, we can come another day."
"It wouldn't be an intrusion," she said, "but let me tell them that you're here."
They both went inside, leaving us in front of the house with the sky threatening again. While we waited to be admitted, I took note of the garden in the small yard. It was artfully arranged with a mix of flowers and plants with interesting foliage. I stopped to admire a small tree with red brushlike flowers. "This is beautiful," I said to Mike.
"It's an _ohi'a_ tree," he said, "native to Hawaii. Most of our plants and flowers were brought here from someplace else over the centuries, but this tree is Hawaiian-born. There's a legend about the _ohi'a_ tree. Would you like to hear it?"
"Of course," I said smiling.
"The goddess Pele turned a young man named Ohi'a into a tree when he declined to become her lover. You see, he already loved another woman named Lehua. Lehua begged the gods to reunite her with Ohi'a. But instead of returning Ohi'a to human form, they made Lehua into the beautiful blossoms that bloom on the tree. That's why we say never to pick the flowers. If you do, it will rain—the tears of the separated lovers."
"That's charming."
"I thought you'd like that one." Mike pointed out another plant with delicate white flowers with pink centers and edged in the same hue.
"The plumeria," he said. "We use those in our leis."
"I'm impressed with your knowledge of plants," I said.
"Being a cop doesn't mean not being interested in other, less nasty things."
Lily came out on the porch and beckoned to us. We climbed the steps and went through the door into the living room, where three other of Mala's relatives, an elderly woman and two young girls, were seated at a table piled high with flowers.
"They're making leis for Mala's celebration," Lily said.
One of the girls was leafing through what looked like a photograph album. "I like these," she said.
"This is Auntie Edie," Lily said of the elderly woman, who had left the table to greet us. "You wanted to deliver a message to her."
"I'm sorry to meet you at such a sad time," I said, introducing myself and Mike.
Barrett's widow was a small woman with a heavily lined face and dark circles under her eyes. Her voice was deep and raspy, a smoker's voice. After we had expressed our sympathies, I offered her the envelope. "This is a letter from a dear friend of mine, Seth Hazlitt. He asked me to deliver it to you personally."
"Ooh, Seth," she said, taking the letter and tapping it against her palm. "Barrett spoke so fondly of him. They corresponded on the computer, you know. At the end, Barrett's eyes were not so good. He liked that he could make the type very large on the screen. It let him write lots of letters. You and your friend are welcome here, Mrs. Fletcher. Come, sit down. Can I get you something to drink? Pineapple iced tea perhaps?"
"Sounds refreshing," I said, speaking for both of us.
Mike took a seat on the couch next to Joshua. While Mrs. Kapule went to the kitchen, I ambled over to the table to see the pictures the girls were looking at in the album. It was a series of photographs of Mala at various ages.
"She was very beautiful," I commented.
"Yes," replied the older girl. "See, here she is at her graduation. I made that lei for her. She taught me how."
"It's lovely. You're very talented."
"And this is her with an old boyfriend."
I bent over to peer at the picture.
"Yes, she was beautiful," Mala's aunt said, coming into the room with two glasses. "She was beautiful and headstrong. I understand you were her friend, Mrs. Fletcher."
I took one of the glasses. "Did Mala tell you about me, Mrs. Kapule?"
"No. Elijah mentioned you," she said, handing the other glass to Mike. "And call me Auntie Edie. Everyone does."
"I will if you'll call me Jessica."
"How did you know my niece, Jessica?"
I explained my brief relationship with Mala and my subsequent introduction to her nephew the cab driver.
"Elijah is a good boy," Auntie Edie said.
"He was very kind to me."
"And Mala was . . . well, you couldn't hold that girl down," she said, taking her seat again at the table. "Barrett was very proud of her. I'm glad he's not here to see what happened." She shook her head sadly. "She didn't always recognize when people were taking advantage of her. I sometimes thought . . ." She trailed off, picking up a blossom and stringing it with other flowers.
"What did you sometimes think?" I prompted.
"Look, Auntie Edie. Look at this picture. We could use this one," the younger girl said.
The old woman leaned over the album and peered at the photograph that the child had pointed out. She ran a finger under one eye, wiping away the moisture. Reluctantly, I wandered back to where Mike was talking with Joshua and Lily.
"I assume the police have been here," Mike said.
"Only briefly" was the reply. "They wanted to make sure that there would be someone here so that no one took advantage of Mala's absence, you know, break in and steal things."
"You're staying here?" I asked.
"Some of us cousins are taking turns," he said.
"I rode with one of your cousins the other night, a taxi driver named Elijah."
"That's my brother. Me and Elijah and my other brother, Matthew. That's our business. Transportation."
"Do you think it would be possible for Mrs. Fletcher and me to see Ms. Kapule's working space?" Mike asked.
"I don't see why not," he replied. "It's upstairs. You say you're a retired police officer?"
"Right. A detective."
"And you think that Mala's death might not have been accidental."
"As I said, I'm just covering all the bases."
"Follow me."
We left our pineapple iced teas in the kitchen and followed Joshua up narrow stairs to a landing on the second floor. An open door to the left revealed Mala's bedroom. I stepped inside while Mike talked with her cousin. There wasn't much room for more than a bed, nightstand, and small dresser. A curtain covered the opening to a closet. It was pulled to one side. Most of the closet's contents were what I'd expect Mala to wear to teach her classes. Mixed in were what her cousin Elijah had called "aloha clothing," colorfully patterned shirts and dresses with the characteristic large flowers and leaves. In a clear plastic garment bag there were a diaphanous blue silk dress and a lightweight cashmere scarf draped over a hanger. Both items still bore their price tags. I was startled to see how expensive they were, more than I would have expected her to be able to afford to spend on a college professor's salary. The floor of the closet held a few pairs of flats and flip-flops and two shoeboxes with designer names on them. I knelt and lifted the cover off one. Inside was a pair of platform high heels of a type I'd seen only in pictures taken on a red carpet.
The fancy car in her driveway and costly clothes in her closet were a surprise. They made me realize how little I actually knew about Mala Kapule. How could I have presumed to understand someone I'd met only once? True, Seth had been sharing her uncle Barrett's e-mail messages for some time, but Dr. Kapule had painted an idealized picture of his niece and her accomplishments. After all, why should he share anything about her that wasn't approving?
I had taken Mala at face value, a dedicated scientist and academician, one with the zeal to do what she thought was right. Her seeming tilting at windmills by supporting a position on the Haleakala telescope that defended the rights of the indigenous peoples of Hawaii only raised her image in my eyes. I've always admired idealists, even if their causes were ultimately unsuccessful.
I pondered Mala's closet. Perhaps she was borrowing the clothes for a special event. Or maybe she had saved for a long time to be able to treat herself to such luxuries. Of course, it was possible she had received one or more of these things as gifts. It wouldn't be unusual for a woman as beautiful as she had been to attract a wealthy admirer. The discovery added to my picture of Mala, but rather than bringing her into focus, it made the image fuzzier.
I crossed the hall to a much larger room that she had used as an office. Mike and Joshua had preceded me into what was a laboratory of sorts. Although the space was relatively large, it could barely contain her huge collection of books, which filled the floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Additional volumes were stacked neatly on the tile floor. One of the drawers of a four-drawer tan file cabinet was open. A picture window dominated one wall. In front of it was a workbench on which two microscopes, vials of liquids, and an assortment of plants under Plexiglas covers were arrayed. An open laptop computer and a printer sat in front of the chair. I nudged the mouse, and the computer's screensaver came to life, a moving collage of brightly colored flowers that swirled about the screen, merging into one, then separating.
"Is this where she did her research?" I asked.
Joshua nodded. "She spent half her life in this room. She really loved what she did, but she was usually a little neater than this." He retrieved a balled-up piece of paper on the floor and dropped it in the wastebasket.
I spotted a sheet that was still in the printer tray. It was a meeting notice for the group Mala spearheaded in opposition to the telescope. It was to be held at a restaurant in Wailuku.
"Mind if I take this?" I asked.
"Sure," he said. "Go ahead. Look around. I'll be downstairs if you need me."
He left Mike and me alone in the room. In his absence, I sifted through other papers on Mala's desk, finding several bills and an unopened envelope from an engineering company in Oregon. I bent over the wastebasket to pluck what Joshua had tossed out. I open the crumpled paper, smoothing it out on the desk. "Look at this, Mike."
"What did you find?"
I stepped back so he could read the message Mala had crushed.
_I know what you're up to. You're asking for trouble. Keep it up and you'll end up buried at Haleakala._
"Somebody didn't like her much," he muttered.
"One of many people who resented her opposition to the telescope," I commented. "She mentioned to me that she'd received nasty e-mails. Do you want to give this to Detective Tahaki?"
"Yeah, Henry should see this." Mike stuffed the paper in his pocket. "I don't know that he'll do anything about it, but I'll show it to him anyway. Let me know if you find anything else."
There was a soft noise at the door, and Auntie Edie stepped softly into the room, looking around, her eyes moving from the shelves to the glass terrariums to the microscope.
"You must have been very fond of Mala," I said to her.
She didn't verbally respond, but her eyes took on a glassiness as she trained them upward. Mike and I watched as her lips moved silently, as though speaking to an unseen person in the room.
"She knows," she finally said, taking a deep breath and nodding emphatically.
"Pardon?" I said.
"She knows," she repeated.
"Who knows?" Mike asked.
"Uli."
"The goddess?" Mike said.
"Uli knows everything. She knows what happened to Mala."
I started to say something, but Mike raised an index finger to stop me.
"Those who did bad things to Mala also pray to Uli. She knows who they are. They will be punished."
She looked from Mike to me without saying any more and walked from the room.
"What was that all about?" I whispered to Mike.
"Uli is our heavenly mother," he said in hushed tones. "She was married to our creator, Eli Eli. Hawaiians believe that Uli beholds all justice and righteousness. Nothing escapes her all-seeing eye. When she gave instructions from above, the _kāhuna_ always nabbed their man. The police have benefited many times, thanks to Uli."
"Has she ever helped you as a detective?" I asked.
"Sure. I've had suspects spill their guts because they're convinced that Uli tells them to. I'm not a religious man, Jessica, but I don't discount anything." He surveyed the room. "We done here?"
"Yes. For now."
We said good-bye and thanked Auntie Edie and Mala's cousins before leaving the house and getting into Mike's SUV.
"What's next on your agenda?" he asked.
"I'd like to revisit the place where Mala fell," I said, thinking aloud, "but I need to go there at night."
"Okay."
"Oh, I didn't mean to suggest that you drive me."
"You don't want me to tag along?"
"But I've taken you away from your wife and family long enough."
"Lani's used to me being away. No problem. I'll give her a call and tell her we're going to have dinner. She can join us, if she wants. That sound good to you?"
"It sounds wonderful."
But Lani declined our invitation, preferring to stay home to watch _Masterpiece_ on PBS. "Have a good time," I heard her tell Mike before he snapped his cell phone shut.
"Please remind me to buy your understanding wife a special present before I leave Maui."
"She'd be flattered," he said.
"What would she like?"
"I'm the wrong person to ask. I may have solved a lot of crimes over the course of my career, but I never seem to pick the right gift for Lani."
"Then you won't be of any help in the gift department."
"Afraid not. But I do have one suggestion."
"Which is?"
"Ask the goddess Uli. She knows everything."
"I just might do that."
Mike navigated the SUV through traffic and started whistling a tune.
"Didn't you tell me it was bad luck to whistle?"
"Only after dark. It's not dark yet."
# Chapter Eleven
Pūpūkahi I Holomua **—** Unite to Move Forward
Had Mike not offered to take me to dinner, I would have opted for something simple at the hotel, maybe room service. Knowing where to eat when traveling is always problematic unless someone you trust gives you a recommendation. Without that, you tend to end up in a place that's convenient (and maybe not with the best food) or a touristy restaurant whose dishes are budget busters.
But with a Maui legend leading the way, we ended up in a tiny café off the beaten track, where Mike was greeted like one of the numerous Hawaiian gods. The woman who owned the spot was also the chef and prepared for us what Mike said was her specialty, opah, a rich, creamy baked moonfish that Mike said was the Hawaiian good-luck fish, often given as a gift. It was delicious.
The rain had resumed and came down in torrents during dinner, but by the time we'd finished the entrée it had stopped again. We lingered over strong coffee and a dessert that the owner called _kalamai haupia_ , pudding that was more the consistency of Jell-O. She told us that it was a secret recipe using masa harina, corn flour of the type used to make tortillas. I would never have ordered it on my own, but the result was sublime.
"I never want to eat again," I said as we bid farewell to the owner and went to Mike's SUV. The sun had just set, painting the sky with vivid streaks of red and orange and yellow. I stood by the open passenger door and took in the spectacular beauty of the horizon.
"Do you ever get tired of the sunsets?" I asked.
"I wouldn't say I'm tired of them, but I don't much notice them anymore—unless, of course, I'm with a visitor who does."
Mike was in a chatty mood as we drove toward Wailea and the coastal walk, which ran behind the south shore's condominiums and resorts, including the one at which Bob and Elaine Lowell were staying. With any luck we wouldn't run into them.
The sky was blanketed with stars by the time we left the car and headed for the place from which Mala had fallen. Fallen? Had she fallen, or had someone pushed her to her death? While I regarded our destination as the scene of the crime, I had a sinking feeling that Mala's death might never be considered anything but a tragic accident. In the murder mystery novels I'd written, the crime is always solved in the final pages and the murderer brought to justice. But I knew only too well that in real life things didn't always work that way. Many murders go unsolved every day, and years go by with the family and friends of the victims never enjoying that sense of closure we hear so much about. Sometimes, through dogged work by a detective obsessed with a particular murder, a cold case becomes hot again and the perpetrator is made to pay for his or her crime. But that doesn't happen frequently—not frequently enough to suit me.
The heavy rain had soaked the ground, making it mushy as we walked across the vast grassy field toward the path, the beam of Mike's flashlight swinging back and forth in front of us. Mike's previous talkativeness had abated. He was silent as we navigated the narrow walkway, and I didn't say anything to break the mood. There was a pleasant chill in the air; a refreshing breeze came off the water.
We reached the spot where the police said Mala had fallen. The grass was still trampled; the rain had slicked down the blades. A vision of her going over the edge came to me, and I shuddered involuntarily.
"You all right?" Mike asked.
"I'm fine. I was just envisioning Mala falling to her death on the rocks below."
"Not a pretty picture."
I took a few tentative steps toward the edge. Mike grabbed my arm. "Hey, we don't need a second body down there," he cautioned.
I looked down at my shoes, then at the grassy edge. "Something bothers me," I said, almost to myself.
"What?"
"This is where Mala supposedly fell," I said.
"Right," Mike concurred.
"But—"
"But what?"
"Look at the ground. If she had slipped, the grass would have been mashed down at the very edge. But it isn't. It's trampled down here a few feet from the edge, undoubtedly by at least two pairs of shoes, but isn't flattened where she would have lost her footing."
"You mentioned that there were various pairs of shoes before, Jessica, but that doesn't prove anything. Some of the prints were probably made by cops with big feet."
"You may be right, Mike, but I remember what you said the first time we came here, that you couldn't fathom why someone as young and physically fit as Mala would lose her balance."
"Maybe she was high on some drug."
I shook my head. "Somehow I don't believe it. Mala struck me as someone who didn't like to lose control. But I guess it's a question we should ask."
"The other alternative is that someone pushed her," he said flatly.
"I'm more convinced than ever that that's what happened. Maybe not a deliberate shove, but her fall had to have involved others. The way I see it, after she was pushed, she grabbed this bush and went over the edge grasping the leaves. That's why it was assumed that she'd died while trying to climb down to pick a plant. It's probably the same plant that's up here."
When he didn't say anything, I turned and faced him.
"Am I right?" I asked.
"You are very right," he said. "The scenario you're painting matches perfectly with what I've been thinking since the morning we first came here."
"You've had that opinion all along?" I said.
He nodded, and the moonlight caught the mischievous grin on his face. "You're probably assuming that I'm just saying it to make it sound as though I don't want to be outdone by you."
"I wasn't assuming that at all," I said.
"But if you were, you're wrong. To be honest, I wanted to see whether a famous writer of murder mysteries would pick up on something like that. Well, you have, and I'd be more comfortable if you would take a few steps back."
I did as he suggested. "Behind that pleasant facade, Detective Kane is a devious man."
He bowed slightly. "Deviousness is an important asset for any detective, Jessica."
"Like don't-give-upness?"
"Precisely. Don't-give-upness and deviousness. Both sides of the coin. I take your comment as a supreme compliment."
"You devil," I said, and started to laugh.
"We make a good team," he said.
"I'm flattered to be a part of it."
"There's something my teammate should know," he said.
"Which is?"
"When I checked my cell phone after dinner, I saw that Detective Tahaki e-mailed me the coroner's report."
"On Mala?"
"Yup. Good man, Henry. I knew I could count on him."
"What did the report say, Mike?"
"It seems that the autopsy on Ms. Kapule wasn't very instructive. There was no alcohol in her bloodstream. She had numerous abrasions on her head and body, some of which held traces of the sort of lava rock where she fell. Her lungs were clear, suggesting she was already dead before the body washed into the water. The foliage in her hand was of a type consistent with bushes throughout the island, including up here. Toxicology report to come."
"Were there any wounds that might have been inflicted before she went over the edge?"
"By her murderer, you mean?"
"Yes."
"Nothing definitive."
"But if she was pushed, wouldn't there be marks on her body?"
"I don't see how, unless she struggled."
"Of course, if someone bumped into her and she lost her footing on the wet grass and fell, is that murder?"
Mike smiled. "Good questions, Mrs. Fletcher. Like I said, we make a good team. Come on, I'll drive you back to your hotel."
The thought of getting back to my room, where I could take a hot shower, get dressed for bed, and curl up with a good book until sleep arrived, was a welcome contemplation. It had been an eventful day: my difficult call to Seth; the challenging class that morning; the barbecue in Iao Valley; visiting Mala's home and meeting her family; the pleasant dinner; followed by the disturbing visit to where Mala had met her death. It was a lot to contemplate and I was exhausted.
Mike walked in the direction from which we'd come and disappeared around a bend, but I remained transfixed near the grassy edge of the path. It was almost as though Mala were standing next to me, peering down at the rugged lava rocks and swirling waters below. I was deep into this reverie when I suddenly sensed someone behind me. Before I could turn, a pair of hands gripped my shoulders. I screamed as the hands pulled me back, almost causing me to lose my footing. There was a loud flapping of wings as startled birds rose in the air, making such a noise that I couldn't hear myself think.
The grip was released, and I spun around to be face- to-face with a tall man with a square, chiseled face on which a thick mustache curved down around the edges of his mouth.
"Who are you?" I said, struggling to catch my breath.
"I should ask you the same thing," he said.
"Why did you come up behind me and frighten me like that?"
"To keep you from going over the edge."
The man wore a white terry-cloth bathrobe over pajamas and slippers.
"Well," I said, "you might have meant well, but you could have at least said something to warn me instead of just grabbing me."
"What are you doing here at night?" he asked, his arms folded over his chest.
"I was— I'm here with—"
Mike suddenly appeared. "Are you all right, Jessica?"
"Yes, I'm fine," I said. "This gentleman surprised me, that's all. And apparently my reaction woke up the birds."
"Those francolins make a racket; best alarm clock there is." Mike lifted his chin at the man. "What did you want?"
"I asked what she was doing here," the man said.
"Taking a walk," Mike said. "It's public property. You live here?"
"That's right." He pointed to the house where we'd met Koko and his grandmother.
"You're Koko's father?" I said.
"How do you know my son?" He tilted his head, appraising me.
"Look," Mike said, "Mrs. Fletcher and I are here because of what happened to her friend, Mala Kapule, the lady who went over the cliff. You know about that?"
"Of course I know about it. I was afraid that this lady was about to suffer the same fate."
I looked past him and saw Koko in his pajamas and straw cowboy hat standing on the patio. Moonlight reflected off his glasses.
"We haven't been formally introduced," I said, extending my hand. "Jessica Fletcher."
He hesitated before accepting my greeting and giving me a tentative shake but had no compunction about reaching for Mike's outstretched hand.
"Kane. Mike."
"You the ones who spoke to my son a day or two ago?"
"That's right," I said. "He's a charming little boy."
This brought forth the first smile from the father. "Warren Mohink," he said.
"Pleased to meet you," Mike said. "You and your wife must be proud of your son."
"He doesn't have a mother," Mohink said. "She died a few years ago. My mother lives with us and takes care of Koko while I'm at work."
"You work near here?" Mike asked.
"The Thompson sugar mill. I'm a production manager."
"As long as we're standing here," Mike said, "let me ask whether you saw or heard anything the night Ms. Kapule died. Mrs. Fletcher and I already asked your son when we met him."
"The kid don't know anything," Mohink said quickly—too quickly, as far as I was concerned. "He was sound asleep all night. Hope he didn't tell you different. Kona's got a big imagination, makes stuff up." He waved his hand behind him. "This week he's a cowboy. Next week could be Batman. Happens all the time since his mother died. We told the other officers and that lady who came that we didn't see or hear anything."
"What lady was that?" I asked.
Mohink shrugged. "Said she was friend of the woman who died. Wanted to know if we'd seen it happen. I told her the same thing I'm telling you."
"What did she look like?" Mike asked.
Mohink yawned. "She looked like a woman, that's all, nothing special about her. Kind of blond, maybe. I wasn't really paying attention. Kona was driving me crazy crying and trying to hide under his bed. I left the lady with my mother and went inside."
"Would you recognize her if you saw her again?" I asked.
"I don't know. Look, it's late. I gotta work tomorrow."
"Of course," I said. "Sorry if I overreacted when you came up behind me."
"Just didn't want to see you go over the way she did. I'll say good night now."
"Good night," Mike and I said in unison.
We watched him cross the expanse of lawn leading to his house.
"But, Daddy, I wasn't—"
"Not now, Koko." He ushered his son inside and closed the sliding doors behind them.
We headed back to where Mike had parked his car at the hotel. Halfway there I stopped and wrapped my arms about myself.
"You all right?" Mike asked.
"I just have this hunch that the boy knows more than he told us the day we met, and the adults in his life are trying to keep him from talking about it."
"You think he saw something?"
"I don't know," I said as we resumed walking. "Even if he does know something, getting him alone won't be easy. His father is as protective of the boy as the grandmother was. And of course a child doesn't always understand what he sees."
We didn't say much else on the drive back to my hotel.
"I can't thank you enough for indulging me," I said as he pulled into the parking lot.
"No worries, Jessica. What do you have on tap tomorrow?"
"I'm going to attend the meeting of the group that Mala was involved with, the one protesting the construction of the telescope, but that's not until seven at night. No plans before that."
"I have to put in some time at the hotel where I work, but I'll be free in the afternoon."
"I've imposed upon you enough, Mike."
"Nonsense. You obviously want to spend the day digging deeper into Mala's life and whatever might shed light on her death. I'm at your disposal. After all, we're now a team."
"Okay," I said. "Tell you what. This team member wants to go back to talk to Koko. Nothing may come of it, but I want to try. I can do that in the morning. If the weather is good—and I can't imagine that it won't be—I'll bicycle over there."
"That's a pretty long ride."
"Not as long as the ride down Haleakala after the sunrise."
"True. You planning to do that?"
"Not tomorrow, but maybe one day. I may also go back to the campus to speak with her colleagues. The head of the department was in competition with her for the position. Of course, he had won the position before she died. Then, I—"
"Whoa! Pretty ambitious day you have planned, Jessica."
"What's the alternative, sit by the pool and get sunburned?"
"That's an appealing alternative to me, but I get your point. How about I pick you up tomorrow sometime after lunch. I'll call you with a specific time."
"Sounds like a plan to me."
"Good. Get yourself some rest. Looks to me like you're in training."
I entered my room, flipped on the lights, closed the drapes, and got into my pajamas and the robe provided by the hotel. I opened a novel I'd started and read a few pages, but I couldn't concentrate. I kept seeing Koko's face in the window, looking passively down at me, and wondered what secrets his mind harbored.
"That boy knows something," I said aloud to myself, "and I want to know what it is. I _have_ to know what it is."
# Chapter Twelve
E Kala Mai Ia'u! _—_ Excuse Me!
I awoke the next morning to the ping of raindrops against the sliding glass doors. So much for riding my bike. I padded across the room and parted the drapes. Although it was raining, the sun shone brightly. Within minutes the rain stopped and a lovely rainbow arched across the horizon, a positive sign for the new day.
On my way to the hotel restaurant I stopped in the gift shop and bought a colorful blouse to augment my Hawaiian wardrobe, tucking it in my shoulder bag. I was seated at a table overlooking the bay. I had a busy day planned and ordered a big breakfast—pancakes, bacon, orange juice, and coffee—to fortify myself for the ride ahead. The dinner with Mike the previous night had done what big dinners always do to me—left me feeling famished the next day. The pancakes were delicious, but I still rank the blueberry version at Mara's Luncheonette in Cabot Cove to be superior, maybe out of simple loyalty to my hometown establishments.
My hunger sated, I reserved a bicycle at the front desk and strolled toward my room, intent on changing into my new purchase, when I felt an odd prickle, as if there was someone watching me. I looked around but didn't see any faces turned in my direction. The hotel lobby was crowded. Local artists had set up displays of their works, and I joined the crowd perusing the tables of jewelry, _kapa_ cloth scarves, and other artistic creations. I was particularly charmed by a series of color photographs of underwater creatures taken by a pleasant fellow named Scott Mead. One work really caught my eye. It was of a giant sea turtle, a magnificent specimen, just like the one the little girl had pointed out prior to the start of the luau. Was that only three days ago?
The photograph was made even more lifelike because it was printed on aluminum, which altered the look of the piece as the light source changed. The artist took great pains to explain this unusual method of printing, a technique he'd learned while working with aluminum in the aerospace industry. He moved an overhead spot, showing me how the appearance of the water and the animal changed depending upon the angle of the light striking the metal. Intrigued, I handed him my credit card and arranged to have the framed photograph sent to my home in Cabot Cove, where I had the perfect spot for it in my office. I felt good after making my purchase. For the first time since arriving on Maui, I'd partaken in something pleasant and unique to the island that didn't involve the controversy over Mala's death.
As I headed back to my room in preparation for my bike ride to Wailea and my hoped-for interview with Koko, I passed a heavyset man, his face buried in a newspaper, standing next to an events board. "Excuse me," I said, stepping closer. "I just want to read this." Without a word, he turned and walked away.
There were three items listed: The Rotary club's luncheon would be held in the restaurant at noon; a Maui produce company was sponsoring its annual conference over the next few days; and a press conference was scheduled at nine thirty that morning in one of the public rooms, hosted by the Witherspoon Construction Company. That morning's rainbow had indeed been a good omen. I had intended to seek out Cale Witherspoon, who'd delivered what I considered unnecessarily insensitive comments in the newspaper article that Mala had included in my packet of materials. Instead of having to go to him, he was coming to me. That rainbow was prescient.
I changed into my new aloha shirt and killed time before the start of the conference by checking the Internet to see if Mala's family had posted a date for her celebration of life. I didn't find that, but I did see an article in which she had been identified by name as the victim of a tragic fall. Several comments below the article, bylined by Joe Luckey, were from bereaved students, mourning the loss of their beloved professor. One comment labeled "Anonymous" wrote: "The committee will be real happy that she's no longer around for them to trip over. Speaking of trips . . ." Another reader chastised Anonymous: "Nice comment, you no-name chicken. Her death is not funny. She was a true champion of Hawaii and what the Aloha Spirit really means." Anonymous responded: "Aznuts! Science is more important than legend. She was babelicious, I'll give you dat." The remaining comments were reciprocal insults, and I was disappointed not to see anything that Mike and I could follow up on.
I closed the computer and took out the papers Mala had given me, refreshing my knowledge of the controversy. Confident that I had a passing familiarity with the subject, I found the room where the conference was being held and took a seat in the back row. A TV crew and a local radio station had arrived earlier and positioned their microphones at a podium along with the hotel's mike. A smattering of men and women, who I assumed were reporters, had taken seats in the front, while a hotel staff member busied himself making last-minute adjustments to the podium and chairs behind it. A table with breakfast pastries, sliced fruit, pitchers of orange and pineapple juice, and a coffee urn had been set up against a wall.
I'd been there only a few minutes when Cale Witherspoon arrived, flanked by two younger men, both wearing suits and ties and sunglasses, which struck me as pretentious considering they were indoors. If Witherspoon had been the president of the United States, I would have pegged his colleagues as Secret Service. They had that fierce protective look about them. One was tall and carried himself like an athlete. The other was shorter; his suit looked too small on what appeared to be a weightlifter's body. The taller one looked familiar, although I couldn't peg where I'd seen him before. A middle-aged woman clutching a clipboard trailed behind them and took the aisle seat in the front row, putting her bag on the seat to her left, effectively signaling that she didn't want anyone to sit beside her.
Witherspoon, dressed in the same outfit he'd worn in the photograph that accompanied the article about him—large white cowboy hat, fringed tan deerskin jacket—took his place in the front of the room and looked around. He might have been handsome in his youth, but his features were now coarse from age and perhaps overindulgence.
Apart from the reporters and broadcast crews, only a few other people were present when the shorter man who'd accompanied Witherspoon stepped to the podium. "Thank you for being here," he said in a surprisingly high voice. "What we have to say today is important for every citizen of Maui. Without further ado, Mr. Cale Witherspoon has an announcement to make."
Witherspoon, who was even larger than he appeared in his photograph, took the podium, smiled, and said, "I hope y'all treat yourselves to the goodies over there on that table. Somebody told me that if you want to get the press to cover something, you've got to feed 'em." His laugh at his comment was a lonely one in the otherwise silent room.
"All right," he said after some throat clearing, "I've asked y'all here today because, as the head of the company charged with building the solar telescope up on Haleakala, it's my pleasure to announce that it looks like the Court of Appeals is about to grant the most recent motion our lawyers have filed to lift the existing restrictions on the construction and allow this great project to go forward. This is good news not only for Witherspoon Construction; it's good news for the people of Maui. Let's hear it for Maui!"
If Witherspoon had been expecting a cheer, he was disappointed. He continued, "As y'all know, there have been objections. A small group of misguided people have stood in the way of progress. They didn't understand the importance . . ." His voice had taken on an angry tone. He glanced down at the woman with the clipboard in the aisle seat; she shook her head very slightly. Witherspoon coughed into his fist. "Now, I have the greatest respect for the Hawaiian native people and certainly support anyone's right to voice their opinions. This is America, after all. But I believe this project will benefit everyone in the state—in the country for that matter—and especially the native people of Hawaii. I'm hoping they'll come to see that in time. Anyone is welcome to talk with me about this. My door is always open. I listen to all views." He checked his associate in the front row again, and this time she was nodding.
"I'd like to take this moment to extend my sympathies to the family and friends of Miss Mala Kapule, who died in a tragic accident this past weekend. She was a worthy opponent, and a fine representative of the Hawaiian natives. I didn't agree with her views, it's true." He chuckled at his own admission. "Y'all know that. But I hold no grudge, and feel real bad about what happened to her. All of us at Witherspoon Construction join me in sending our condolences. Terrible thing. Terrible thing when a young person dies. If y'all have any questions, I'll be happy to answer them."
It seemed to me that he was making an effort to be charming in his comments about Mala's death. At least he didn't say anything insensitive or mean-spirited, but I couldn't help feeling that he was elated that a major obstacle was now out of the way. It was as if Mala had been a piece of statuary standing between Witherspoon and Haleakala and had been bulldozed into dust, paving the way for Witherspoon to proceed. I tried hard to give him the benefit of the doubt—I don't like to judge people's motives harshly—but my dislike of the man was instantaneous.
The few reporters at the front of the room vied for his attention and asked their questions about what the court ruling meant and what timetable was now in place for proceeding with construction. Witherspoon answered them smoothly, although he had to ask one of the men who'd arrived with him about some technical issues.
A young woman, who was not part of the press contingent, raised her hand. "What about Haleakala?" she asked. "It's a sacred site. What are you doing to protect it? I read that this project isn't good for the land and the ecology."
Witherspoon laughed as he said, "You really shouldn't believe everything you read, ma'am." He looked at the reporters in the front row and added as an aside, "Not meaning what you good folks write, of course," before going back to the woman's question. "There's already a development on top of Haleakala. And there's been no grievous damage to the crater. People can still visit this dramatic and important site. There's hundreds of tourists coming up every week, maybe even every day. I'd worry more about litter and pollution from all those cars than about a bunch of scientists going about their business. Looks like the judges agree with me, which is why we are close to saying we're ready to roll. The sacred ground up around the volcano will be just as sacred after the telescope is built and operating. Having it there to contribute to our understanding of the solar system and its effect on our weather means human progress. That's good for Maui. That's good for all of Hawaii."
He fielded a few more questions before thanking everyone for coming and reminding them to enjoy the food spread. Flanked by his colleagues, Witherspoon was first at the table, where he picked up a piece of pastry and was chomping on it when I joined him.
"Mr. Witherspoon?" I said.
He covered his mouth with his hand to keep crumbs from falling as he finished the Danish. "Yes, ma'am."
"My name is Jessica Fletcher."
"Well, hello there, Miss Fletcher. Glad you were able to be here this morning."
"I was a friend of Mala Kapule."
"Were you now?" His face took on a somber expression. "Real sorry about what happened to your friend."
"Thank you. You mentioned that her death was a tragic accident."
He nodded at me, his head going up and down continuously like a bobblehead doll's.
"You stated this as a fact. How can you be so sure—"
"That's not my judgment, you know. It's in the police report, public record. So I'm only repeating what the police have said, and I trust their expertise."
"You don't find it strange that the person who was most active in opposing your project turns up dead just as a court is about to make a ruling in the case?"
"I hope you're not thinking that I had anything to do with her demise. The police have said it was an accident. Therefore, it was an accident."
"That's a preliminary finding," I retorted.
"And you expect it to change? I've heard the rumors, Miss Fletcher. There's always some paranoid folks who'll see things that aren't there, like those conspiracy buffs who think every assassination was some sort of plot."
"Well, I'm not a conspiracy buff, Mr. Witherspoon, but the theory that Mala's fall might not have been an accident is held by some very substantial people."
"Including you?"
"As a matter of fact, yes."
"And why are you tellin' _me_ this?"
"As a key figure in the debate over the future of Haleakala—"
"There's no debate over the future of Haleakala, Miss Fletcher, only the delaying tactics of those who want to throw a wrench in the works. What does it concern you?"
"I don't like to see young people die."
"Who does?"
"You should know, Mr. Witherspoon, that while I'm here on Maui, I'm determined to get to the bottom of Mala's death."
"Then maybe it's time for you to go home, Miss Fletcher. This is not your business."
"I'm not planning to go home, Mr. Witherspoon. You can insist this death was an accident, but I believe it to be suspicious, and I'm not the only one." I debated using Mike Kane's name, but given Mike's position as a former police officer, I didn't want to get him in trouble with the department. Our "investigation" wasn't official. Also, it wasn't my place to speak for him.
"Look, you're not with the police. What's your position here?"
"I'm a writer."
"A newspaper? What newspaper?"
"I'm not with a newspaper. I write books."
"And you're writing a book about this?" He was incredulous.
"That's not my intention. I'm simply a private citizen who wants to know what happened to a friend."
The taller of Witherspoon's colleagues who'd overheard our conversation said to the contractor, "We have to go, Cale. The meeting."
"Right, right," Witherspoon said. To me, he said, "I've enjoyed our little chat, Miss Fletcher, and I wish you all the best in looking into your friend's death."
"You could help."
"Oh, really? In what way could I help? And make it quick. I have a meeting to get to."
I cast around for a reason to extend our discussion. It was unlikely Witherspoon would have put himself in jeopardy by killing anyone personally. But by the looks of the men who worked for him, it wouldn't surprise me if Mala's death had been a contract killing. I needed more time to assess the man to gauge how far he would go to protect his interests. "I'd appreciate meeting with you to help me understand the background and recent developments in the Haleakala project."
"All you have to know is that it's going forward."
"What happened to the open door you boasted about? Anyone can come and talk to you, you just said."
"I don't have time for this," he said, making a show of looking at his watch.
I was about to admit defeat when I looked at his taller assistant—I suppose you could call him that—and had a moment of recognition. If I wasn't mistaken, he was one of the men I overheard at the luau. My mind flashed back to the conversation that night.
_"Did he try talking to her?" he asked._
_"It's too late for talking," the other replied. He was a beefy man in a colorful patterned shirt, shorts, and flip-flops. "She'd better quit if she knows what's good for her. They're not going to put up with it anymore."_
_"She's not going to convince him to change his mind, even if she tries."_
_"If she scuttles this project, I swear he'll kill her."_
I pulled myself back into the present moment.
"Excuse me," I said to the young man. "Weren't you at the luau the night Ms. Kapule fell to her death?"
He looked to his boss before turning and walking away.
Witherspoon gave me a baleful look. "You mind some advice, Mrs. Fletcher?"
"Go ahead."
"I suggest that you enjoy your stay here on Maui like any other tourist. Stick to writing a magazine article or something. Maybe I'll buy a copy when it comes out. Don't worry that pretty head of yours about things that don't concern you. You'll be flying outta here back to where you come from. Have yourself a good trip and let the Hawaiian people enjoy the sorta success that the Haleakala telescope will give 'em. Excuse me. I've got another appointment."
_What arrogance,_ I thought as I watched him and his acolytes leave the room.
I was poised to depart, too, when a man who'd been sitting with the other reporters approached. "Jessica Fletcher?" he said.
"Yes."
"My name is Joe Luckey, the _Maui News_." He pronounced his name "LOO-key" and handed me his card.
"Yes?"
"I'm writing an article on Mala Kapule and the Haleakala telescope project."
"Oh?"
"Some of the people I've interviewed mentioned that you were here on the island and have been—well, I suppose you could say that you've been delving into the circumstances surrounding her death."
"Mind if I ask who told you that?"
"Not at all. I heard it from one of Ms. Kapule's family members."
I thought back to when Mike Kane and I visited Mala's house and wondered whether one of her cousins had been the source of that information.
"Could we talk for a few minutes?" he asked.
"I really have nothing to say to the public about Mala Kapule's unfortunate death," I said, "other than it's tragic to lose any young person and especially someone with such intelligence and promise."
"But I'm told that you and Detective Mike Kane are trying to prove that she might have been murdered."
"We're hardly in a position to do such a thing. Any investigation remains in the hands of the authorities."
"Nevertheless, I hear you're asking questions," he replied. "People are talking about it. Maui's not a big island, Mrs. Fletcher."
"I'm beginning to find that out," I said. "I know you're working on your article and I respect that, but I have nothing to contribute. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Lucky."
He gave a boyish grin. "Mr. Lucky. That was a TV show, wasn't it? My name is LOO-key."
I smiled and shook his hand. "My mistake," I said.
With a disappointed expression, he turned away.
I was about to take my leave when it occurred to me that there might be something to be learned from this young reporter. After all, it's what I'd been teaching police recruits—take in any and all information from anyone, including those who are doing nothing more than circulating unsubstantiated rumors.
"Mr. Luckey," I called out, pronouncing his name correctly this time, "I apologize if I was somewhat curt. I'm having a change of heart. I would be happy to speak with you. Perhaps we can help each other."
"That's great, Mrs. Fletcher. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"
"There's coffee over there," I said, pointing to the table with breakfast items. "Might as well take advantage of it."
With a cup of coffee and a glass of pineapple juice—Joe Luckey also fortified himself with two pieces of raspberry Danish—we settled in a corner of the room. He turned to a fresh page in his slender reporter's notebook, removed the cap from his pen, and asked, "What have you uncovered about the way Ms. Kapule died?"
I had to make a fast decision about how much to share with him. The answer was as little as possible, although I also knew that in fairness I had to offer something in return for learning what, if anything, he had come across.
"I have to warn you, I don't have anything concrete. There's a question of where she actually fell. It's not clear from the markings on the ground precisely where she ended up going over the edge. And while my knowledge of her personality is only from short acquaintance, I find it hard to believe she was collecting plant samples in the middle of the night."
He made a note in his pad.
"But that's conjecture, Mr. Luckey. Please don't report it as fact."
"Oh, I would never do that, Mrs. Fletcher. And please call me Joe."
"And I'm Jessica. Now, what have you heard about Ms. Kapule's death in your travels around Maui?"
"Just the usual scuttlebutt. Mostly, I hear that you and Mike Kane are working together."
"You know Detective Kane?"
"Sure I do. The big _kahuna_. Hollywood used to use that term to refer to surfers. But here on the islands, it's always meant an important person. Mike's a _kahuna_. Any time there's a tough case, the police call on him for the answer. Another reporter on the paper wrote a profile of him a few months ago. Great guy!"
"He certainly is. We're teaching a course together for the new class of police recruits. What did you think of Mr. Witherspoon's comments this morning?"
He laughed. "He's a big blowhard, Jessica, a real _moke_ , but I suppose he's got a right to want to push the telescope on Haleakala forward. There's lots of money involved. And as the lowest bidder, he probably doesn't have the reserve some of the other bidders had."
_"Moke?"_
"Hawaiian for a big, tough guy."
"Sounds appropriate. Money is a powerful motivator," I said.
He started to write but stopped and looked up at me. "Are you suggesting that he might have had something to do with Ms. Kapule's death?"
I held up my hand and said, "Let's not start reading things into our conversation."
"I wouldn't blame you if you felt that way. Witherspoon sure had a motive for wanting to see Mala Kapule dead."
"You need more than a motive to charge someone with murder. He certainly wanted her to stop interfering in the construction of the telescope. Beyond that, I don't think we can say. There may have been others with different motives. Let's not go jumping to conclusions."
"Sorry." He cocked his head at me. "You write books about murder."
"That's right."
"You ever do books about true crime?"
"No. I only write fiction. Why do you ask?"
"Well, I thought that if Ms. Kapule's death was murder, I might try to write a book about it."
"I think that would be a good idea," I said, "provided it _was_ murder. We don't know that."
"Right, right. I just mean that if—you know, just thinking out loud."
"I understand. Have you spent time with the group opposed to the telescope?"
"I went to one meeting and reported on it as part of a longer piece."
"I'm going to a meeting tonight," I said. "I'm sure it will be different without Mala there."
"She was a tough leader."
"You knew her?"
"Met her a few times. She was no-nonsense, about protecting Haleakala, I mean. Stopped anyone cold if they even tried to express a different point of view. Have you been up there?"
"To Haleakala? No, but I would like to see what it's like."
"It's pretty impressive. Bus companies run trips up there for the sunrise. Lots of people go up by bus and come back down on a bike. You ever ride a bike?"
I laughed. "If you're asking, am I too old to ride a bike, the answer is no, I'm not too old. A bicycle is my principal means of transportation back home in Maine, and I've been doing some cycling since coming to Maui."
"Then you definitely should take the sunrise trip, Jessica."
"I'll think about it, Joe."
He made a face. "That's what my mother says when she wants to stop me from arguing with her. Okay. Don't go, but you'll be the one to miss out. Don't say I didn't tell you."
I laughed. "All right, all right. You've convinced me. I'll make the arrangements at the front desk. Now, let's get back to the subject at hand. Anything else you can tell me about what your research for your article has uncovered?"
"Afraid not." He looked down at his notes. "I guess we really didn't give each other much information, but I appreciate your time."
"It was my pleasure."
Before we left the room, he wrapped two pieces of pastry in a napkin and slipped them into his backpack. "A snack for later," he said sheepishly.
"Better than letting it go to waste," I said.
"Witherspoon was right about that. The press loves to get fed. We just don't like to admit it."
We parted in the lobby, agreeing to stay in touch if we learned anything. I doubted I would share anything more Mike and I might discover with a reporter. Joe's goal was to get a story into print, and mine was to fit together the pieces of the puzzle of Mala's death. They were two strictly independent and, to a certain extent, selfish goals. I wanted to know if the Mala I'd met was the same exemplar her uncle had raved about, and if someone had killed her, what was the reason? Was it politics, jealousy, greed, revenge for some perceived slight? The numbers of motives were legion. But if her death was not an accident, there had to be an answer to the question _why_.
I looked at my watch and decided it was too late to bicycle to the south shore in the hope of being able to speak with Koko. Mike Kane was due to pick me up at one. Maybe he would agree to drive there.
My room phone was ringing when I walked in.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Jessica. It's Bob Lowell here."
It took a moment for me to recognize the name.
"Yes, hello, Bob. How are you? How is Elaine?"
"Me and my sweetie are just fine," he said in a booming voice. "Here's why I'm calling, Jessica. Elaine and I are going to take that sunrise bike trip tomorrow up to the volcano, Hali-something-or-other. Thought you might like to join us."
"How nice of you to think of me," I said. "In fact, I was just talking with someone else about that trip, but I haven't decided yet whether or not I'll have the time to fit it in."
He laughed heartily. "Now, don't be scared. I'll be there to protect you and Elaine. But you've gotta take this trip. Everyone says it's a must-see. You know the old saying, 'When in Rome, do like those Romans do.' It's supposed to be the best deal on the island. I like a bargain as much as the next man." Another laugh. "You could write it up in your next murder mystery, have somebody fall into that volcano or something. The missus and I already made our reservations. Not sure I'm keen on having to get up at three in the morning, but I'm an early riser anyway. This'll just be a few hours earlier. I'll probably end up carrying Elaine halfway down. She's not much of a bike rider."
I heard, "Oh, Bob," in the background.
"I'll keep it in mind, Bob," I said, "but I'm not ready to commit to going. Thanks for reminding me. My best to your wife."
Biking down Haleakala with Bob and Elaine Lowell was not high on my list of things I wanted to do. But Bob was right. It was certainly a popular excursion. Ironically, Mala herself had suggested it to me. Since the volcano, and Mala's work to preserve its sacred status for the people of Maui, could be at the root of how and why she died, it did make sense to see what she felt so keenly about. I debated the pros and cons of scheduling something that required me to forgo a good night's sleep but finally talked myself into it.
I went to the front desk in the lobby, where the cultural exhibits were still drawing crowds, and noticed the heavyset man still holding up a newspaper. _He must be a very slow reader,_ I thought, _or else a man waiting very patiently while his wife shops._ I asked Eileen to cancel the bike I'd rented for the day and queried her about the Haleakala excursion.
"I'm considering taking the sunrise bike trip up the volcano," I told her. "What do you think?"
"Oh, you'll just love it," she said. "When would you like to go?"
"What do you suggest?"
"It's supposed to be a good weather day tomorrow. The forecast for later in the week is iffy. You really want to be up there when it's clear or you'll get fogged in and see nothing."
"Then tomorrow it will be." I realized I'd forgotten to ask Bob Lowell which tour company he'd booked with. It wasn't worth calling him back, however. I figured if they were going tomorrow, we'd meet up at the top anyway.
Eileen booked my reservation, gave me some verbal instructions, handed me some written material, and wished me a pleasant ride. I took a chair in the lobby and was perusing the handouts when Mike Kane strolled in. His Hawaiian shirt this time was white with silver palm trees on it.
"Is it one o'clock already?" I said.
"It is, unless you're still operating on Maine time. What do you have there?"
I showed him the brochures and printed instructions about the trip to Haleakala.
"When are you thinking of going?"
"Tomorrow."
"Sure you want to?"
"I'm not sure, but I've already made the reservation."
"I'd never talk you out of it, but I will say that riding a bike down those roads can be dangerous. A few years ago they banned tour companies from offering bike rides from the summit. Too many fatalities. You don't come down off the volcano on bike paths, you know. You share the narrow road with all the cars and trucks, navigating the twenty-nine switchbacks. It's a scary ride."
"I'm pretty handy with a bike," I said. "I use one all the time back home. I have to. I don't drive."
Kane's eyes widened. "You don't drive?"
"No, and I never wanted to. I admit it's sometimes inconvenient, but I've always managed. I do have a pilot's license, however."
His eyes became a little wider. "What else is there to know about this woman named Jessica Fletcher?"
"Just that I had a conversation with Mr. Cale Witherspoon today and find I don't like the man, not one bit. Feel like taking a ride to see if we can have another talk with a little boy named Kona, also known as Koko?"
"I'm available all afternoon," he said, taking my hand and pulling me up from the chair. "But if you develop a sudden hankering to fly a plane, count me out. Flying scares me to death."
# Chapter Thirteen
He Aha Ka Meahou?—What's New?
As we drove, I recapped for Mike the brief comments Witherspoon had made at his press conference and my subsequent conversation with the builder.
"Sounds as though you're not a member of the Witherspoon fan club."
"You're safe in saying that, Mike. I found him condescending and arrogant. I probably can think of some more adjectives, but I'm trying to be polite. Oh, I also spoke with a young reporter named LOO-key. He spells it like 'LUCK-ee.'"
"I know the guy," he said. "He called my cell phone while I was on my way to the hotel. Told me he'd just spoken to you."
"He certainly didn't let any time go by."
"He's a nice young man. I've met him a couple of times. He's hot on the Haleakala story. Could do worse than to have a reporter on our side."
"He wants to write a true crime book about Mala's death, provided, of course, that murder was involved."
"If we prove that someone did kill her, I hope he acknowledges us in his book. That would impress my wife."
"Just learning the truth will be sufficient acknowledgment for me."
We took our now-familiar route south, parking in the shopping center outside the hotel and walking across the field where the luau had taken place to access the narrow path leading to the house in which Koko lived with his widowed father and grandmother.
"What do you hope to accomplish?" Mike asked.
"I'm not sure, but I have a strong hunch that the boy might have seen something the night Mala died and is afraid to tell anyone."
"So your idea is to keep showing up until you wear them down?"
"Something like that."
As we approached what I now thought of as the scene of the crime, Mike said, "Why don't we try the front door this time. Maybe it will change our luck."
"If we don't see anyone in back, we can—"
The house came into view, and it was obvious that something had happened. A patrol car with its lights flashing could be seen on the road in front, and two uniformed officers were on the patio with Koko's father.
"I hope no one has been injured," I said as we left the path and stood on the edge of the lawn. One of the officers recognized Mike, waved, and came to us. "'Ey, Kane," he said.
"Hey, braddah," Mike replied. "You've got a problem here?"
"Not anymore. The man who lives here has a little boy, Kona—adventuresome tyke. We know him well. Mohink's mother usually takes care of the kid while Dad's at work at the sugar refinery, but she's sick; so he brings the kid to work with him. Seems while he's not watching the boy sneaks off and disappears into the sugar fields. Nothing new; he's done it before, loves the field for some reason. Anyway, Dad calls us and we send a team to search for the kid, find him hiding there. The father's real upset, as you can imagine. I told him we're gonna have to start charging him a finder's fee the next time. Can't have the little fella making a habit of this. Anyway, we follow Mohink and his son back to make sure they get settled in. Didn't want to see anyone get hurt. Pop is one angry dude."
"Can't blame him," Mike said.
"Father and son are both in the house now?" I asked.
"Yes, ma'am. 'Ey, Kane, what are you doing here?"
"Taking a walk with Mrs. Fletcher."
He introduced us.
"I hear you're working private on the Kapule case," said the officer. "Hope it pays well."
Mike laughed away the comment without saying anything. But as the officer turned to leave, Mike asked, "Heard anything new on it?"
The officer stopped and shook his head. "Detective Tahaki says it was an accident, only I do hear that the ME asks why would she climb down to pick a plant already growing on the top?"
"These scientists, you never know what they see," Mike said.
"I guess." The officer, whom I pegged to be in his late twenties, started to leave, then came back to us. "There was one other thing." He looked at me and then Mike.
"You can talk in front of her."
"Just thought I'd pass along a little scuttlebutt, you know."
"What's that, brah?"
"Some of the guys I hang out with, you know, have a few drinks with after work, they say that she was some hot _wahine_."
"Is that so?" Mike said.
"Not that I'd know firsthand, but some of the guys—"
I kept my mouth shut and tried not to look interested in what he was saying.
"I know, I know," Mike said, "some of the guys heard that from somebody else."
"That's right, Mike. Just thought I'd pass it along."
" _Mahalo._ Appreciate it."
When the officer had left to rejoin his partner at the house, Mike said, "Hate to hear rumors like that about a woman."
"I agree it isn't fair," I said. "A beautiful woman is often a victim of unkind remarks. Coming from a woman, I might chalk it up to jealousy. I'm not sure of what motives men would have."
"Bragging, most likely. Making themselves look like big _kahunas_ , in the know about something they have no experience with."
"Even so, remember what we taught the recruits, to pay attention to even scurrilous rumors. You never know when there's an important bit of truth in them."
The officers departed the patio, leaving the father alone. I sensed that he was debating whether to join us. I waved. He did nothing.
"Probably not a good time to talk to him," Mike said. But as we started to leave, Mohink stepped off the patio and took deliberate strides in our direction. He reached us, and I was aware of the intense anger etched on his square face. The officer had said that he was angry at his son, which I could understand. But his expression of rage went far beyond that.
"Get off my property. Now!" His lips were curled and his fists tightly balled at his sides, as though he was ready to physically strike at us.
"Now, hold on," Mike said. "Mrs. Fletcher and I were—"
"I don't give a rat's ear what you were doing," Mohink ground out. "Do it someplace else. Leave me and my kid alone. I'm sick and tired of people spying on me."
"Mr. Mohink," I said, "we're not spying on you. Detective Kane and I simply wanted to speak with Koko about the night a woman fell to her death."
His rage instantly subsided. "That's right," he said to Mike, "you're a detective."
"Retired," Mike said pleasantly, "but still active, especially when a murder might have been committed."
"Look, sorry I came on so strong. It's just that this has been a stressful day. My son came to work with me and—"
"We heard all about it from the officer," I said.
"Well, kids can drive you crazy, huh?" He forced a smile, although his jaw was still tightly clenched. "I gotta get back to work. He keeps pulling this stuff, he's gonna make me lose my job."
We watched him trudge across his lawn and disappear inside the house.
"That's a man who has trouble controlling his temper," I said. "He was ready to brawl until he remembered that you were law enforcement. The other night when he came up behind and scared me, he said he was protecting me from falling. It didn't seem that way."
"I'd like to know more about him," Mike said as we retraced our steps to the car.
"Why do you think he believes he's being spied on?"
"Could be just paranoid. Thinks everyone must be as interested in him and his activities as he is himself."
"I wonder if it's something else."
Mike took out his cell phone when we'd gotten in his SUV and dialed a number.
"Ani, my love," he said to whoever had answered. "Mike Kane here . . . Doing just fine, thank you . . . and you? . . . Good to hear that . . . Ani, I need a favor . . . What? . . . No, I'm not looking for one of those police T-shirts . . . They're ugly . . . Ani, run a background for me on a guy named Warren Mohink . . . What? . . . No, nothing specific, just whether he's had run-ins with the law . . . Right . . . Happy to hold."
He put his cell on speakerphone and we waited until she came back on the line.
"Warren E. Mohink," she said, "male, forty-one, works at Thompson Sugar Refinery, widower, one child."
"Sounds like him," Mike said. "Has he ever been a bad boy?"
"A few times, Mike. Before his wife died there were two domestic violence calls from his house made by the wife. She was bruised but ended up not pressing charges. Two other incidents, both in bars, fights, the usual. Both times charges were dropped. Anything else I can do for you?"
"How did his wife die?"
"Let me see what it says. Okay, she drowned. Her hubby, Mr. Mohink, and she were snorkeling. He was questioned, but the ME ruled it an accidental drowning. Anything else I can do for you?"
"Give me a kiss the next time I'm in headquarters."
"Hey, I don't want any trouble from Lani."
"She told me to say that. Any _meahou_ about the Kapule case?"
"Are you involved with that?"
"Just dabbling," Mike said with a laugh.
"And I'm a professional hula dancer," she said.
"You've got the hips for it," he said.
"I'll let that pass," she said. "Call anytime."
"I'd say Mr. Mohink could use an anger management class," I said.
"Looks that way."
"Do you mind swinging by the college on our way back?"
"For?"
"I want to see if we can catch up with Professor Luzon. I don't know if you're aware that he was named department head the afternoon Mala died."
"You said that she wanted that job."
"She wanted it, but she didn't harbor any illusions about getting it. She knew that her controversial stance about the telescope and Haleakala would stand in her way."
"Do you think she might have confronted the professor about it?"
"I don't know, but it would be interesting to find out."
Mike pulled out of the parking spot and slowly drove from the lot. As he reached the fringe of the property, I asked him to stop.
"What's the matter?"
"See that woman on that bench?"
"Looks like she's crying."
"I know her. I sat with her and her husband at the luau. Give me a minute."
I got out of the car and approached Elaine Lowell, who had indeed been crying. As she saw me draw near, she attempted to dry her eyes and sit up straighter.
"Elaine," I said, taking a seat next to her on the bench. "Remember me? It's Jessica. I'm sorry to see you so upset. What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said, and began to cry again.
I placed my hand on her shoulder and allowed her to gain control. "Is there anything I can help you with? Has something happened to you? To your husband?"
"It's—it's Bob," she managed.
"Is he ill? Did he have an accident?"
She shook her head and used another tissue. "They just don't understand him," she said. "He wouldn't mean anything by it."
"By what, Elaine?"
"The chambermaid. She said that he tried to grab her. That isn't Bob. He loves people, that's all, likes to give everybody hugs and kisses."
"Oh, my," I said, thinking back to the luau when Bob hugged Grace Latimer and tried to kiss her on the cheek, and his tendency to wrap his arms around women, including me. "Is he in trouble because of it?" I asked. "With hotel security or the police?"
"The security man talked to him about it. The chambermaid complained to him, and he had to do something, I suppose. He warned Bob not to touch her again. She said she wouldn't press charges, thank goodness, but she's been assigned to another wing. She's not mean or anything. I thought she was sweet. She just doesn't understand my husband."
"Sometimes people take displays of affection the wrong way," I said, hoping to calm her. "It sounds as though everything's been settled." I injected cheer in my voice to boost her spirits. "Where is Bob now?"
"He was mad after speaking with the security man and said he was taking a walk." She looked away from me and spoke as though addressing someone else. "Oh, Bob, I've _told_ you that women don't like to be hugged by strangers."
I glanced back to where Mike remained in his SUV. "I have to be going, Elaine. Someone is waiting for me over there. I'm sure that everything will work out just fine."
She sniffled and blew her nose. "Thank you, Jessica," she said. "You're a good person."
My thought as I slipped into the passenger seat was that I probably wouldn't be seeing the Lowells the following morning on the trip up to Haleakala and the bike ride down. Nice as they were, the idea didn't displease me. And even though I experienced a twinge of guilt, I also felt relief knowing I wouldn't have to spend a day with Bob Lowell.
"What was that all about?" Mike asked as he headed for the college.
I gave him a brief explanation.
"It happens," he said. "Every once in a while, a tourist at the hotel where I work has a little too much to drink and gets frisky with a female staff member or somebody else's wife. That demon rum can turn the most placid individual into a raving lecher."
"Mr. Lowell is a nice man, at least what little I know of him. And I don't think that drinking is the cause of his behavior. He's just—well, he's just too gregarious for his own good, especially with women." I smiled. "Oh, Bob!"
"What?"
"Nothing. Just talking to myself."
# Chapter Fourteen
Mai Wahapa 'A Mai 'Oe Ia'u _—_ Don't Argue with Me
Although it was growing late in the day, the Maui College campus was busy as we drove in, and it took some time to find a parking space near the new science building with 'IKE LE'A on its sign.
"Tell me about this Professor Luzon," Mike said after turning off the engine.
"I met him and his wife at the luau. I didn't know it at the time, but apparently that afternoon he'd been named head of the horticulture department, a post that Mala coveted. When we parted, Mala and I, she said she had a meeting with her competition. That may have been Professor Luzon. I'd like to know whether he'd spoken with her between the time his appointment was announced and her death."
"Was there bad blood between them?" Mike asked.
"Not that I'm aware of. It was Professor Luzon's teaching assistant, Grace Latimer, who told me she saw Mala at the luau."
"The name you gave to Detective Tahaki."
"That's right. Grace is a graduate student in the school. She all but suggested that Mala may have committed suicide because of losing the chairmanship, something that makes no sense to me at all. Grace is also the one who told me she saw Mala's former boyfriend that night. He's a deckhand on the _Maui Ocean Star_ , the sunset cruise I took. His name is Carson Nihipali. Did I pronounce it correctly?"
"You're getting the hang of it," said Mike. "Tell me more about this ex-boyfriend."
"Handsome, sure of himself. Ms. Latimer called him a 'surfer dude.'"
"Plenty of them in Hawaii. Did you discuss Mala with him?"
"I tried to, but he wasn't eager to have that conversation."
Mike looked out the window and rubbed his chin.
"You're thinking?" I said.
"Yeah. I'm thinking about what that young cop at the kid's house said, that Ms. Kapule was a 'hot _wahine_.' I wonder how many boyfriends she had and how many of them may have had a reason to hold a grudge."
"That kind of gossip shouldn't be too difficult to uncover," I said.
As we approached the building's entrance, Mike said, "Maybe you'd rather speak with the professor alone."
"Oh, no. I think having a retired detective with me adds some gravitas."
"Gravitas? Me?" he said, chuckling. "That's a first."
I checked the names on a board in the lobby and saw that Professor Luzon, now a department chairman, had an office on the second floor. We pushed against a tide of students coming down the stairs and made our way down a long hallway with open doors on either side as classes emptied for the evening. Ahead of us, a small group was clustered in front of a closed door. I wondered why they hesitated to knock or enter until angry voices from inside reached us. A man and a woman could be overheard arguing.
"You don't know what you're talking about," the man said. "You never do."
"Don't lie to me, Abbott. I wasn't born yesterday," the woman yelled. "She bats her big blue eyes at you and you heel like some pathetic puppy. And don't think I don't know about the others."
"Damn it, Honi, keep your voice down. This is where I work."
We'd found Professor Luzon's office, and he and his wife were having a very public argument, unaware of the audience it was drawing just beyond the door.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Mike said in a low voice. "Don't you think we should give these people a little privacy?"
I caught exasperated looks flashing between several of the students who'd been eavesdropping, but clearly they were not about to challenge a man the size of Mike Kane, and they began dispersing just as Honi's next volley came through the door: "No, Abbott, this isn't where you _work_ ; this is where you seduce all those wide-eyed innocents who go gaga over the esteemed professor. You're incorrigible."
I wasn't sure what to do—knock and interrupt their fracas or stand in the hall until one of them stormed out. I didn't have time to make a decision because the door flew open. Honi Luzon stood staring at us. "Get a good earful?" she said.
"We and a good number of the students," Mike said.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Lu—"
Honi didn't stay for my apology. "His majesty, the chairman, will see you now. Excuse me," she said, and pushed past us, striding down the hall, unmindful of the faces that turned to see who she was and the whispers she inspired as she passed.
Mike and I peered through the open door. Luzon was standing at the window with his back to us.
"Professor Luzon?" I said.
"My office hours are over."
"We're not students," Mike said.
Luzon turned. His face was crimson, and he visibly shook.
"What do you want?" he snapped.
"If this is a bad time, we can—"
"Mrs. Fletcher, right? From the luau?"
"Yes, and this is Mike Kane, retired detective."
Luzon struggled to bring himself under control. He went behind his desk and said, "Come in." Whether he was aware that we'd overheard the argument with his wife wasn't evident; he probably preferred not to know.
"What can I do for you?" he asked, but I was certain that he didn't care.
"Just a few minutes of your time," I said. "I suppose I should start by congratulating you on your promotion."
"That cannot possibly be the purpose of your visit."
Deciding that directness was the best approach, I responded, "You are correct. Former detective Kane and I are working together to try to paint a more complete picture of the death of your colleague Mala Kapule."
My statement got his attention. His eyes widened as he groped for his next words. "Please sit down," he finally said. "I only have a few minutes, however."
"And that's all the time we'll take," I said, ignoring the chairs he pointed to. "Professor Luzon, we were wondering whether you'd had the opportunity to speak with Ms. Kapule the day that she died."
He adopted an exaggerated expression of deep thought. "No, I . . . I don't believe I did." He pulled a pair of glasses from his breast pocket and carefully put them on. "Why do you ask?"
"I spoke with your assistant, Ms. Latimer, and she wondered whether Mala was so upset that she'd lost out on becoming chairman of the horticulture department that she might have—well, might have taken her own life."
He guffawed. All the anger seemed to drain out of him. "That's ridiculous," he said, smiling. "Grace said that? Not a very scientific conclusion."
"Yes. I agree that it's far-fetched, but I did think it was worth mentioning. You didn't see Mala the night we sat together at the luau?"
"No."
"Ms. Latimer said that she did, and since you went together to fetch the drinks, I thought perhaps you might have been with her when that occurred."
"No," he said, "I never saw Professor Kapule that night."
"That afternoon perhaps? Mala and I had coffee, after which she left me for an appointment in this building. She said she was going to meet with her competition. Wouldn't that have been you?"
"Her competition for what? I have said that I didn't see her, and that answers your question. I get the impression that I'm being grilled." He directed that last statement at Mike, who'd said nothing so far.
"That's hardly the case. Mrs. Fletcher and I are just trying to clear up some lingering questions about Ms. Kapule's death. I'm sure you'd like to have those questions answered, too, considering that you were colleagues here at the college."
"Well, of course. We were all shaken and saddened at Mala's demise. She was a fine scientist and a talented teacher, much beloved by her students."
Luzon sounded as if he was rehearsing a eulogy he'd written for Mala's funeral.
"But from everything I've heard, her death was an accident, if a bizarre one." He shook his head ruefully. "Just like Mala, scrambling down a dangerous cliff in search of some bit of vegetation." He again shook his head. "Probably _Cryptostegia grandiflora_. She was on a campaign against that one. So unnecessary. So tragic."
"Professor Luzon," I said, "you and Mala worked in the same department for years. You must have known her pretty well. Is there anyone you can think of who might have held a grudge against her, someone who was angry enough to have pushed her off that cliff?"
Luzon cleared his throat. "The university informed me that the police have labeled her death an accident. I generally accept the conclusions of the authorities. The appropriate authorities. But if I had to guess, I'd say it was someone who was adversely impacted by her stand against the telescope on Haleakala. But that's assuming she was pushed. That's not what I have understood." He looked over his glasses at me and added, "Anything else?"
"I don't think so," I said. "We appreciate your time."
"Not at all," he said affably. "Thanks for stopping by."
As we were on our way out the door, I turned and said, "Please give my best to your wife."
Luzon's face turned red. "I'll do that," he said.
We got in the car. Before Mike started the engine he said, "I gather the woman he was arguing with was his wife."
"Yes, Honi Luzon. It's safe to say from what we heard that they were arguing about another woman."
"More like other _women_ ," Mike said.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Probably. I'm thinking that if Mala Kapule was one of those other women, that would give both Mr. and Mrs. Luzon a motive."
"I hope not. If that's the case, he certainly wasn't broken up about her loss."
"Those kinds of guys wouldn't be. It's all about the chase, not about the woman herself."
"That's a pretty negative view of your fellow man, Mike."
"Yeah, well, there's good guys, and there's other guys. Luzon doesn't come off like a good guy. You going to the meeting of Mala's group tonight?"
I nodded.
"And you're still planning to go up to Haleakala a few hours later and bicycle down?"
"It's on my agenda."
"I'd be happy to drive you there the day after tomorrow."
"I appreciate that, but I'm assured that the best view will be available tomorrow. Afterward the weather will be less predictable."
"I'll give you that. You do need a clear day to appreciate it."
"I know I'm cramming a lot in, but this is my thinking: As long as I'm here on Maui I might as well do what the tourists do. Frankly, I'm looking forward to it."
"You're not going to get much sleep tonight. You know those buses leave in the wee hours."
"I know."
"Just do me one favor."
"What's that?"
"Be careful. It can be dangerous, especially when you're tired."
His warning accompanied me into my room, where I pulled out a notebook in which I'd been jotting down my thoughts and started adding more.
# Chapter Fifteen
Ono! _—_ Delicious! Sometimes Combined as Ono-licious __
I had a few hours before the meeting of Mala's opposition group and was grateful to spend quiet time in my hotel room. After leaving our brief and somewhat awkward confrontation with Luzon, I was concerned that we were spinning our wheels and getting nowhere. That Mike's other plans would preclude our being together that evening and the next day was a double-edged sword. Having the legendary Maui detective at my side made the point that the questions I was asking weren't frivolous. I've interacted with a number of detectives over the years, and as fine as many of them were, none impressed me more than Mike. He was a gentleman in every sense of the word, a man with a pixyish smile and twinkle in his eyes to accompany a keen mind, as well as a devoted family man with an appreciation of the human dilemma.
On the other hand, allowing Mike to get back to his family life and regular business concerns assuaged my guilt at taking him away from his wife and his job. I hoped his involvement with me didn't jeopardize either relationship. I remembered I had promised myself—and him—that I would find a nice gift for Lani as thanks for sharing her husband's time, even though he assured me she was accustomed to his odd hours and just as happy to follow her own interests by herself. I also had to admit that the prospect of not having him at my side was liberating in a way. I've had many discussions with Seth Hazlitt and other friends in Cabot Cove about how today's frenetic lifestyle, fueled by all the technology that surrounds us, takes away from precious time to think. I needed think time. We all need think time to avoid making some of the mistakes we humans are prone to.
I reflected on that first morning when Mala and I enjoyed coffee together. She was a beautiful woman who undoubtedly had a number of beaus, including the deckhand on the _Maui Ocean Star_ Carson Nihipali. He'd gone out of his way not to talk about Mala and the particulars of her death. Of course, I'd caught him when he was working, not the best time for confidences. But I sensed a coldness in him that bothered me. Had he been one of many boyfriends, as the young police officer had hinted? If so, was he aware of his competitors for her attention? Mike Kane's question was apt: Could one of them have harbored enough resentment to have taken the drastic step of getting rid of her altogether?
But let's say that Mala had fallen to her death during an argument with a boyfriend. It could well have been an accident, an argument that got out of hand, even a situation in which she felt threatened, backed away, lost her footing, and tumbled down to the rocks and surf below without being pushed. If that was the case, whoever accompanied her on the trail was guilty of nothing except callous disregard and failing to alert someone. If you were questioned by the police and lied about what you knew, that was a crime, but it wasn't murder.
Reviewing the possibilities, I realized that I was limiting myself to looking for a romantic reason for her death. A more realistic possibility was Mala's staunch opposition to the telescope on Haleakala. There was big money involved, not only for someone like Cale Witherspoon and his construction company, but also for the university and the island of Maui. There were powerful forces lobbying to see that the telescope was built, and from what I'd gathered, many of the island's movers and shakers, including Charlie Reed, were putting their money where their mouths were, funding a series of legal skirmishes designed to overcome Mala and her smaller group's efforts to kill the project.
Some of my thinking, and the notes I was making, focused on Professor Luzon. Mike and I had overheard his wife, Honi, accusing him of infidelity. The tension at the luau between Honi and her husband's graduate assistant, Grace Latimer, was palpable. Had Luzon been having an affair with Grace? If so, what bearing would that have on Mala Kapule's death? Unless Grace was jealous of Luzon's attentions to Mala, assuming they existed, and wanted to rid herself of a rival. Grace had asked to see me after Mala died. Was she just probing to see what I knew? I doubted that there was a connection between Luzon and Mala, apart from her desire to become chair of the department. The day I met her and she was heading off to a meeting with her opponent for the chairmanship, presumably Luzon, she referred to him as a "dreadful man." But if they weren't romantically involved, could academic rivalry have been so heated as to lead to a physical confrontation? There was a lot to ponder. I needed a walk to get my blood flowing. I left my room through the French doors and ventured along the shoreline of Kahului Bay, breathing in the fresh air and enjoying the late afternoon sun. A narrow beach rimmed the water, curling around the harbor. To my right in the distance was a ferry slip, and beyond it, a long pier at which a large cruise ship was berthed jutted into the water. Others were also enjoying the quiet beginning to the evening—a family with children, an older couple slowly walking hand in hand, young joggers, and a few solitary men and women gazing out over the peaceful beauty of the water. The slanted rays of the sun spun a kaleidoscopic effect on the water, reminding me of the way I felt seeing the sea turtle photograph I'd purchased. I reveled in the experience. This was the way one was supposed to feel when visiting Hawaii, and I was very much in the moment.
But all good things must come to an end, and soon I found myself back in my room changing clothes before taking a taxi to the restaurant where Mala's protest group was meeting.
To my delight, Elijah Kapule was my cab driver.
"Good to see you, Mrs. Fletcher," he said as he opened the rear door for me.
"Nice to see you, too," I said. "Have plans for Mala's funeral been set?"
"Yes, ma'am, day after tomorrow." He handed me a sheet of paper on which the details were printed. "You'll be there?"
"I'll make a point of it," I said as I slid onto the backseat.
"Remember. No wearing black."
"I'll remember."
The restaurant was only ten minutes away, but since I'd left the hotel a little later than planned, I worried about disrupting the meeting in progress.
"You still have my card?" Elijah asked as he scurried around to open my door.
"Yes, of course."
"Call me for your ride back to the hotel."
"I'll do that, Elijah. Thank you."
The restaurant was in a strip mall, flanked by a clothing shop that boasted "authentic Hawaiian shirts" and a tobacco store whose sign assured shoppers that its prices were the lowest on Maui. I walked into the dining room but didn't see any large group.
A pretty Asian woman approached and asked if I wanted a table.
"I understand there's a group that meets here regularly concerning Haleakala and the proposed telescope. Professor Kapule from the college was a member."
"Oh, Ms. Kapule. So sad what happened to her."
"Yes, it certainly was."
She led me to a small private room at the rear of the restaurant, where a dozen people were seated at a long table. A middle-aged man got up and came to me. "Can I help you?" he asked.
"My name is Jessica Fletcher. I was a friend of Mala Kapule."
"Oh, yes, I heard about you."
"You did? From Mala?"
"No, from others. Are you here for the meeting?"
"If you don't mind a stranger sitting in."
"It's fine. We have no secrets. Come, sit. We're just ordering drinks."
I sat in the chair the man pulled out for me and smiled at the others at the table. A waitress took my order for pineapple iced tea.
"We have a guest today," the man announced. "This is Jessica Fletcher."
There were murmurs of greeting.
He turned to me. "I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself. James Feary. I'm the attorney for this group. How did you know Mala?"
"I don't want to mislead you. I only met her once, the day she died, but her uncle Barrett was a close friend of another friend of mine back in Maine."
He smiled. "Doc Barrett," he said fondly. "That's what we all called him, a wonderful physician and a fine person."
"How did you happen to hear my name?"
He started to explain when someone at the end of the table tapped her water glass with a spoon and said, "Maybe we should get some business out of the way before dinner. As we all agree, this is a sad occasion without Mala. She gave voice to our concerns, and now that she's no longer with us, we have some tough decisions to make."
I wasn't sure that I should be there. I didn't belong to this group, which had obviously been meeting for a long time and had an agenda about which I knew little aside from what I'd been told by Mala and from comments I'd picked up on since arriving on Maui. But no one seemed to mind my presence, and a spirited discussion ensued about the direction the group should take without her. While their words were filled with conviction, I sensed a deflated attitude that didn't match the energy of what was being said.
While the conversation proceeded, I took in the others at the table. One handsome young man eventually caught my attention. He was seated behind a large gentleman who'd blocked him from my view. It was the student who'd spoken with Mala at the conclusion of her class and with whom she'd seemed annoyed. What was his name? Dale. That was it. As I recalled their brief moment together, I remembered that she'd curtly dismissed him, and I'd wondered why. Was he an annoying student who demanded more of his professor's time than she was willing to commit? That was the conclusion I'd come to, and I had forgotten about him until this evening.
After we'd consumed drinks, the waitress took dinner orders. Since I hadn't eaten yet, I took the opportunity to try this new-to-me restaurant and echoed what the man next to me ordered, assuming he knew the menu better than I. It was a wise move. I was served _lau lau_ , a combination of salt butterfish, pork, and chicken, wrapped up in a ti leaf. It was delicious.
The serving of the food didn't get in the way of the debate, which had started off calmly but eventually morphed into something more heated. Some at the table were determined to carry on the group's advocacy, while others took the position that since Mala was no longer around to spearhead the movement, the group should be disbanded. As one woman said, "Let's face it. We're on the losing end. Let them build their ridiculous telescope. I've had it."
A few echoed that sentiment, while others vowed to fight on in Mala's name. That was a lovely thought, but I questioned whether Mala's memory would be sufficient to carry on with any hope of success against the more powerful money interests. As I listened attentively to both sides arguing their points of view, I felt distinctly out of place. While I found the debate interesting, as my niece Tracy Macgill might have said, I had no horse in this race. I didn't know whether the educational values and scientific gains to be achieved by the telescope outweighed the concerns and considerations of the volcano's place in the history and religion of the Hawaiian peoples, not to mention its impact on the ecology of Haleakala. My purpose had been only to see whether anyone at the table would have light to shine on Mala's death, and as the evening wore on, I increasingly doubted whether that would be the result.
After the dinner bills were paid and the meeting broke up, those who'd attended gathered in small knots to continue the conversation that had dominated the table. I spotted Dale and was making my way toward him when the man who'd greeted me at the door, James Feary, waved to me. "Sorry you had to come into the group at this late stage," Feary said. "When Mala was spearheading it—back when her commitment was strong—we thought we had a good chance of killing the Haleakala project. Now? I'm not so sure. We seem to be—" He stopped, searching for the right words.
"Am I understanding you correctly? You just indicated that Mala's commitment might have waned. I was unaware of that. Had it?"
"It wasn't always obvious, but I knew her a long time."
"When I met Mala just after arriving here on Maui, she was filled with enthusiasm for the cause you and the others are championing," I said. "That was only a few days ago."
"Oh, yes, she could be a real spitfire."
"'Could be'? Wasn't it genuine?"
His shrug was noncommittal.
"Why had she lost faith?" I pressed.
"You know how it is when money enters the picture."
"Do you mean the money that the opposition was throwing at the project to defeat her and this group?"
"That, and Mala finally having achieved some personal financial independence."
"I'm not sure I understand," I said.
"I'm not telling tales out of school," he said. "I've been working to settle her estate."
"You were Mala's attorney, too?"
"Attorney and accountant. I was pleased when she started receiving consultant's fees. Teaching doesn't make anyone rich. I think she decided that it was time to move on with her life. While protesting the telescope on Haleakala was certainly a worthwhile endeavor—is still a worthwhile endeavor—it didn't pay all the bills or set up a secure retirement."
I immediately thought of the luxury clothes in Mala's closet that I had found so puzzling. Perhaps this was the explanation. "How nice that she was able to earn extra money by consulting. Was she consulting with a company here on Maui?"
"No. It was a company on the mainland, in the Northwest somewhere, I believe."
"Oregon?" I said, remembering the unopened envelopes on Mala's desk in her house.
"That's right. Douglas Fir Engineering, Inc."
"Douglas Fir? Like the tree? That makes sense. She was a botanist."
"I don't know what they do, but they were generous. She opened a separate account at the Central Pacific Bank exclusively for the wire transfers she received from the company. She did very well with them. Her account grew quickly. We were able to invest some of her money for the future. Now, of course, there is no future for her."
"I assume that Mala had a valid will."
"Of course. I saw to that. She kept putting it off like too many people do, but I finally got her to execute one. Dying without one is nothing but trouble."
"I've met her aunt and some cousins. Did she have any immediate family?"
"No children or husband, if that's what you mean. She never married, had no direct heirs. Her will is being probated as we speak, should be wrapped up tomorrow and become public record."
"I may be out of line to ask, but who has she left her money and belongings to?"
"It's ironic, really. She'd originally left everything she had to her uncle Barrett, but, as you know, he recently died. We hadn't had a chance to update the will, but I think it will pass probate. Besides bequests to her aunt and quite a number of her cousins, her secondary beneficiary is the college where she taught, to establish scholarships for deserving horticulture students."
"What a wonderful legacy," I said. "Her uncle would be proud of her."
"He was a great guy. Anyway, thanks for coming by this evening. I'm sure that Mala is appreciating it from where she is up there." He raised his eyes to the heavens.
I said good night to some of the others and went to the lobby to call Elijah for a ride back to my hotel. Mala's student stood just outside the restaurant's entrance smoking a cigarette.
"Good evening, Dale," I said.
"Hello."
"We didn't have a chance to talk during the meeting. I'm Jessica Fletcher. I recognize you from Ms. Kapule's botany class. I stopped in there last week."
"The course on invasive plants. Yeah, I saw you there."
"Her death must have been a real shock for the class. Did she have a good rapport with her students?" I asked innocently. "I've done some teaching, and I know how difficult it is to establish a close relationship with students without crossing the line."
He shrugged. "She didn't want anybody to get close to her. Kept everyone at arm's length. She was stuck up."
"Oh? I'm sorry to hear you say that. She didn't strike me that way."
"Yeah, well, you're not a man. She knew the effect she had, flaunted it."
"She couldn't help that she was beautiful," I said. "But as your instructor, she probably wanted to maintain a professional distance."
"Well, I won't say any more. You're not supposed to speak ill of the dead."
I hesitated before saying, "You didn't like Ms. Kapule very much, did you?"
A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "Didn't _like_ her? I was in love with her. And she wouldn't give me the time of day."
He took a final drag on the cigarette, ground it out with his shoe, and walked into the night.
# Chapter Sixteen
E Aha Ana 'Oe? _—_ What Are You Doing? __
I asked the front desk for a wake-up call at two the following morning and set my travel alarm for two fifteen as a backup. The instructions concerning the trip up to Haleakala and the bike ride down called for me to be in the lobby by three.
My head was spinning when I climbed into bed, and I did not look forward to having to get up at that dreadful hour, but as it turned out, I was awake for most of what was left of the night and was wide-awake when the room was filled with ringing and buzzing.
I hadn't given much thought to what clothing would be appropriate for the excursion. Haleakala's summit was 10,023 feet above sea level. I knew that the air would be thinner, making breathing more difficult, and I figured it was bound to be chilly at that altitude. I hadn't brought warm clothes with me; it was, after all, sunny Hawaii. I dressed in the slacks I'd worn on the flight to Maui, a pale blue button-down shirt, and the only sweater I'd brought. Because I'd be biking down from the volcano, I wore sneakers. I also packed a small tote, managing to fill it with a waist-length tan Windbreaker, a Boston Red Sox baseball cap that I always threw in my luggage when traveling, my wallet, a couple of bottles of water, and a few toiletries that might come in handy.
I was in the lobby ten minutes early and sat on a bench waiting for the van. Evidently I was the only guest from that hotel taking the Haleakala tour that day. While I waited, the events of the evening occupied my thoughts.
Two details stood out in my mind.
Mala's lawyer had provided information about her that I'd been unaware of—that she'd benefited from a consulting deal with a company that had provided what I gathered was a substantial financial cushion. _Good for her._ Offering her impressive scientific knowledge of horticulture to a commercial concern in return for being paid made good sense. I assumed that the company for which she consulted, Douglas Fir, was involved in some form of horticulture or agriculture, perhaps seed manufacturing, landscaping, or crop manipulation to increase farmers' yields. I made a mental note to look into it further at a later date.
The second event from the evening that stayed with me was my brief encounter with Mala's would-be suitor, Dale. Although a student having a crush on a teacher is nothing new, I felt sorry for him. Dale looked to be in his mid-twenties, perhaps a little older than the average undergraduate. Maybe he'd taken time off after high school to save up money or had traveled. Mala was a beauty, no question about that. But was there more to it than simply a student's unrequited love? I was pondering that when the tour company's van pulled up. A young man hopped out, confirmed my name, and took my hand as he helped me inside, where seven others sat, three couples and an unaccompanied man, obviously from other resorts nearby.
We made one more stop to pick up another couple before going to the tour company's headquarters, where a buffet of breakfast sweets, juice, and coffee awaited us. Another young man joined our driver in giving us a safety briefing.
"There's really nothing to be afraid of," one said. "You'll be provided with special pants and jackets, a helmet, and gloves, along with a backpack. This is a freestyle bike ride. You descend at your own pace. You can stop as many times as you wish to sightsee, to have something to eat at the few restaurants along the route, and to take pictures. Please do not try to take photographs while riding. Keep both hands on the handlebars and both feet on the pedals at all times while moving. We have some forms for you to fill out, including a release. Any questions?"
A man raised his hand. "I read that there have been twelve fatalities over the years, and that the bike ride now starts lower than the volcano's summit because tour operators like you are banned from starting higher."
One of the guides laughed. "There have been a few folks who ran into bad luck," he said, "but it's rare. When you consider how many thousands of people enjoy this event, the number of folks who have had a problem is minuscule."
I wasn't sure that I bought into his philosophy to explain away past incidents, but I understood his need to allay any fears riders might have.
Everyone filled out forms and signed the release.
"Okay," said a guide, "let's head out. We're in luck. The weather should hold, so you'll see the sun as it rises over Haleakala. As Mark Twain once said, 'Haleakala is the sublimest spectacle I ever witnessed.'"
"Did Mark Twain ride a bike down?" he was asked.
"I have no idea" was the reply. "Let's go. We don't want to miss the sunrise."
I was tempted to ask whether "sublimest" was a real word, but who was I to challenge Mark Twain?
We piled back into the van and drove off into the dark, our destination the dormant volcano, a sacred site to the Hawaiian people and the center of the controversy that had been raging since plans to infringe upon its consecrated ground were first introduced. I was seated next to the unattached gentleman, perhaps in his mid- to late forties, a dour-looking fellow with a shaved head who sat with his arms tightly folded over his chest. He'd mumbled a greeting in response to my more effusive "Hello" and didn't seem to be in the mood for conversation, which was okay with me. While most of my fellow passengers napped, I preferred to take in the scenery, as the glow of starlight cast a modicum of illumination, enabling us to see some of the things we passed. We were in farming country—the driver announced over the PA system that we were seeing protea and orchid farms. In a soft voice, in deference to those who wanted to sleep their way up the mountain, he pointed out vast groves of dark green macadamia nut trees. We then started up what the driver said was Crater Road. "You'll notice how the temperature drops as we continue up this road, thirty miles of it with twenty-nine switchbacks, all on a six-degree incline. When it's seventy-five degrees down in the valley, it'll be forty-five up on the summit. But don't worry. We have plenty of winter coats to keep you warm while watching the sun coming up."
As we continued getting higher, a thick mist blanketed the rolling fields on the side of the twisting road. Unable to make out the details of the landscape, I focused on the road, on the line of headlights and taillights bracketing our van. While the volcano itself was the experience that everyone lauded, the ride to reach it was also memorable. Because of the hour, all traffic was uphill, a line of buses, vans, and cars filled with eager sightseers bound for a unique experience. Later, after everyone had enjoyed the sunrise, people would be heading down the flank of the volcano, creating two-way traffic on the narrow, twisting road while we rode bikes on that same road.
As we climbed higher, we found ourselves passing through clouds, and soon we were above them. To our right, the driver pointed out, was the West Maui Volcano, older than Haleakala. It was the merger of the two volcanoes that had created the island of Maui.
Everyone in the van, with the exception of the gentleman seated next to me, began expressing their excitement at what we were experiencing, and I was no exception. As we climbed to the summit and navigated switchback after switchback on what was billed as the steepest continuous road in the United States, one more glorious sight after another was feast for our eyes, suddenly coming into view, then behind us as a new vista emerged. There were short stretches of level road, but they didn't last long. At times the ground to the side of the road sloped gently down, but other sheer drop-offs would suddenly appear close to the van, thousands of feet down, eliciting gasps from some of the passengers, all of whom were fully awake now.
"We're almost to the summit," the driver announced. "Haleakala is called 'the House of the Sun' for good reason. There's nothing more beautiful than sunrise at Haleakala."
Fifteen minutes later his claim proved to be true.
We pulled into a large parking lot where other tour company vans and their passengers had already arrived. We disembarked, drawing in the chilly air, the inside of my nose crackling in response. The clouds were all below us, filling the valleys and rolling away to the horizon. The clear air brought into sharp relief the vast sky, filled with millions of visible stars. Our guide escorted us to a railing from which we could look out over the majesty of the dormant volcano—three thousand feet deep, seven miles long, and two miles wide, a barren yet regal landscape like nothing I had ever seen before. Excited chatter surrounded us as other sunrise enthusiasts filled the spaces along the railing. I had to laugh when I heard the familiar, "Oh, Bob." I turned to see Bob and Elaine Lowell standing with another tour operator's group. They waved at me.
"Jessica, good to see you," Bob said in his by now recognizable loud and cheerful voice.
I responded, "The same here. I wasn't sure I'd find you in this crowd."
I realized as I said it that he might not be aware that Elaine had told me about his run-in with the chambermaid and hotel security, but he laughed away that concern. "Did my sweetie here tell you about my little misunderstanding? These Hawaiians are supposed to be friendly, all that aloha stuff, but this gal I gave a hug to wasn't friendly at all. I ought to sue them. What do you think, Jessica?"
"Oh, Bob, it's over," Elaine said.
"Let's watch the sunrise," I suggested, changing the subject.
There was an "ooh" from the crowd, and all eyes focused on the horizon to our east, where the black sky was melting into a softer blue. Fewer stars were visible now, but a rainbow arced over the valley. A sliver of the sun peeked over the horizon and continued to rise, casting a red and yellow glow over the scene that would put the best of Hollywood's lighting designers and computer experts to shame. Oohs and aahs came from every witness to the event, and I realized that no matter what happened regarding Mala Kapule's death, this moment would be forever etched in my mind, truly a life-changing experience.
The guides had been right. It was cold up there above the clouds, and the coats they'd handed out as we left the van were welcome. Once the huge orange ball had become fully visible, we milled about, taking photographs and searching for the perfect adjectives to describe what we'd been witness to. But eventually the guides beckoned us.
"Time to head down to the sixty-five-hundred-foot level at the base of Haleakala National Park," one of them said. "That's where we'll give you your bikes and the appropriate clothing to make your descent more pleasant. The fun is just beginning!"
His exuberance was contagious. Coupled with the joy of having witnessed the spectacular sunrise, everyone got back into the van eager for the second part of the day's adventure.
"We use special bikes," we were told, "designed for downhill riding. They have disc brakes for that purpose, front and back, and the seats are oversized and padded. You'll have plenty of time to put on your riding clothes and take a few spins around the parking lot to become familiar with your bicycle before heading down."
We joined other tour company vans for the trip to the lower edge of Haleakala National Park, where dozens of bikes awaited us.
"These bikes are different sizes," we were told, "so each of you will have one that's the perfect size for you. Keep in mind that, because these bikes have been designed for downhill riding, they have only one gear and you'll seldom have to pedal. Always ride single file and use the front and rear brakes together. You'll be traveling almost thirty miles an hour at times, and if you use only the front brakes, you'll end up going over the handlebars. Go into curves slowly."
It occurred to me that this bike ride was going to be considerably more challenging than what I was accustomed to back home or the short rides I'd enjoyed since arriving on Maui. Had I made a mistake in signing up for it? Mike Kane had offered to drive me up to the summit the following day, an invitation I'd declined. I could still opt to forgo the bike and ride back down in the van, but that would mean giving in to unsubstantiated fears. I've always been comfortable on a bike; it's my basic means of everyday transportation. Besides, I'd conquered any fears I might have had of flying in small planes by taking flying lessons and earning my private pilot's license. Fear is to be conquered, not to be given into.
Along with the others, I was supplied with oversized, loose clothing to wear during the two-wheeled descent, including a helmet and heavy gloves. The outfit had snaps along the length of the pants and the back of the jacket to make getting into them easy.
"Okay, time to pick your bikes," a guide announced. "You're on your own schedules. Just remember to have the bikes and clothing back at our headquarters by four thirty."
Across the large parking area, Bob Lowell was perusing bicycles, as was the taciturn man with whom I'd ridden earlier in the day. Elaine hurried over to my side, a look of consternation on her face.
"Jessica, maybe you can talk Bob out of doing this. He hasn't ridden a bike since he was forty years younger and a hundred pounds lighter. I'm afraid he'll get killed."
Her husband managed to get on the largest of the available bikes. I didn't know whether there was a weight limit, but if so I assumed that he was pushing the top number.
"I really don't think he'd listen to me," I said. "Can't you convince him that it might be too dangerous?"
"I tried, but he's stubborn, always has been."
I walked to where Lowell was about to take the bike for a test run. He looked very uncomfortable on it.
"Bob," I said, "Elaine is really worried about you doing this. She says you haven't been on a bike in a long time and—"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he replied. "Heck, it's just a bike."
With that he started pedaling. He hadn't gotten ten feet before he skidded into a line of riderless bikes, almost sending them sprawling and causing him to ram both feet into the ground in order to stop.
"Oh, Bob," Elaine said wearily.
He answered by giving us a thumbs-up and continued his test run, his wife trotting behind. "Get on your bike, Elaine, or you'll miss all the fun."
"There is no fool like an old fool," Elaine muttered, opting for the van that would ferry reluctant bikers down the hill.
My sour, shaved-head companion from the van stood between two bikes, one slightly larger than the other. He nodded at the smaller of the two and pushed it forward in my direction. "Looks like just the right size for you," he said.
"Yes, it does," I said, surprised he'd been so considerate. "Thank you."
He gave me a curt nod and walked the other bike to where a small table had been set up with a coffee urn and pastries. I got on my bike and tentatively began to ride in a circle around the lot. It was a sturdy bike, the oversized padded seat extremely comfortable and the handbrakes nicely positioned. I circled around a few times until I was confident I could handle it, but the lack of sleep was catching up to me and the thought of coffee was appealing.
I poured myself a cup and watched as others began the descent, including Bob Lowell, a little wobbly at first, then stronger as he sped up. Elaine Lowell sat in the van shaking her head.
"Delicious coffee," I commented to the man with the shaved head, who'd also lingered at the refreshment table.
"Kona," he said.
"I'll have to buy some Kona coffee when I get home."
He nodded and continued sipping.
I finished my cup and tossed it in the trash can. "I suppose I'd better be on my way. Looks like we're the last ones to leave."
"Looks like it." He climbed on his bike and fell in behind me as I began the sixty-five-hundred-foot trip down from Haleakala to the town of Pa'ia at its base.
I started slowly, wanting to get the feel of the road. I tested the brakes a few times and everything seemed fine, although I did detect a slight shudder when I squeezed the brake handles. Nothing serious, just a matter of getting used to it. I glanced back a few times and saw that the man with the shaved head was fifty feet behind me. Having someone within hailing distance was comforting in the event something should go wrong. Not that I expected anything to be amiss. And I knew that a van would be leaving the top soon to monitor the riders and pick up anyone who changed their mind about riding down the whole route.
The sun was shining, the wind in my face was bracing, and I realized that I was smiling at the sheer joy of it. I thought of my friends back in Cabot Cove and wished they were there to see me navigate the first switchback, although I could imagine what Seth Hazlitt would say: "Don't you think you're a little old, Jessica, to be playing daredevil?" which was what he'd said when I took up flying.
I stayed as far to the right as possible to allow cars to pass and gave wide berth to those vehicles on their way up the mountain, including an occasional truck. Drivers tooted and waved as they went by. I didn't dare take my hands off the handlebars and returned their greetings with an enthusiastic nod.
As I continued the ride my confidence grew, and I allowed myself to go faster, although not beyond where I felt in complete control. Vehicular traffic became heavier—families out for a pleasant day, tourists in rented cars making the trek to see Maui's most famous and trafficked sight.
I was pleased that I'd decided to make the trip and to bicycle down instead of being driven. The experience was exhilarating, and it had displaced what had become nonstop fixation on Mala Kapule's death. Not that those thoughts hadn't intruded from time to time, but they weren't all consuming, as they had been. On a relatively level stretch of road I glanced back to see that the man who'd left the base camp with me had now closed the gap and was only fifteen feet behind. The straight-and-level portion was quickly replaced by another switchback that curled around the mountain and skirted a steep drop-off. The man with the shaved head was suddenly abreast of me. Hadn't he heard the admonition that we were to ride in single file only? I shook my head. He didn't get the message. "Get behind me or pass," I shouted. He responded by moving close; he was now pressing against me, causing me to have to turn, which pointed me at the drop-off.
"Stop it!" I yelled as I fought to avoid going over the edge. I squeezed hard to apply both sets of brakes. The front brakes did nothing. The rear ones caught, the unequal torque sending my bike into a sideways skid. He gave me one final push with his hand and sped ahead, as I sped ahead, too—straight for a thousand-foot drop into oblivion.
# Chapter Seventeen
Auē Nō Ho 'I Ē! _—_ Oh, My Goodness! __
They say your life flashes before your eyes when you're about to die, but I was too panicked to notice. I slid across both lanes of traffic, screaming as I fought to stop the bike, now on its side, from dropping off the edge. The surface of the road tore at the biking clothes, and my head, thankfully protected by a helmet, scraped the asphalt, the sound assaulting my eardrums. The driver of a fuel oil truck coming up the mountain slammed on his brakes, its oversized wheels threatening to flatten me. It all happened in just a few seconds, yet it seemed as though it were unfolding in slow motion.
And then everything stopped. The front wheel of the bike hung over the edge of the drop-off, the pedals inches from following it. I was on my side, blinking furiously to clear the cobwebs from my brain. I stopped blinking and looked wide-eyed at my situation and position on the road. My first thought was not to move lest any motion push the rest of the bike, and me, over the precipice. I heard footsteps as people got out of their cars and ran to aid me. A man grabbed the bike's rear wheel and yanked it, dragging me back to the middle of the road. A woman leaned over me. "Are you okay?"
"I—I don't know," I managed. "Yes, I think so."
Hands gently lifted me to a sitting position. I shook my head against a throbbing pain that encircled it. I looked down at my legs. One leg of the biking pants was torn from the knee to the hip; blood seeped through the light fabric from where the road's hard surface had scraped it.
"She needs an ambulance," I heard a man say.
"I've called nine-one-one," another replied.
"Get her off the road."
With help I struggled to my feet but had to lean against someone to keep from sagging to the ground again. Two people, one on each side, led me to a narrow strip of land between the roadway and the side of the mountain, where I sat and removed my helmet.
"What happened?" someone asked.
"I'm not sure, but I think he pushed me."
"Who pushed you?"
"The man on the bike behind me; at least he was behind me until he wasn't."
"Do you know who it was?"
"He was sitting next to me on the ride up, but I don't know his name. He wasn't particularly friendly."
But then a strange thing happened. I realized that I had seen him before. The blow to my helmeted head had jarred loose recognition. He was one of the two men I'd overheard at the luau. Once again I thought back to when I eavesdropped on their conversation.
_"She's never going to give up, you know that, don't you?"_
_I glanced over to see two men arguing in low tones. One of them was tall with an athletic build, the other older, softer, and with a shaved head._
_"Did he try talking to her?" asked the taller man._
_"It's too late for talking," the other replied. "She'd better quit if she knows what's good for her. They're not going to put up with it anymore."_
" _She's not going to convince him to change his mind, even if she tries."_
_"If she scuttles this project, I swear he'll kill her."_
"It'll be tough getting an ambulance up here with all the traffic," someone said, pulling me back into the present.
"Do you feel okay enough to ride down with us?" a man asked.
"I think so." I wanted to nod, but moving my head was painful.
The bike was pulled to the mountain side of the road. I was placed in the backseat of a car driven by the man who'd offered me a lift. His wife sat in front and kept asking me how I was doing. Aside from the headache, an aching back, and the bloody scrapes on my knee and hip, I was doing fine. Abject fear had morphed into anger. I was angry at what the man with the shaved head had done to me. All I could think of was finding him and making him pay. But that most basic of reactions meshed with my memories of the threatening exchange at the luau and Mala Kapule's death. Had they been talking about her? Were they involved with the committee to quash her fight against the telescope on Haleakala? My aches, pains, and scrapes somehow seemed superfluous. My experience of the lovely trip to the dormant volcano and thrilling bike ride down was now anything but pleasant. I was back to where I'd been at the start of that day, determined to get to the bottom of Mala's death—and whoever was behind it.
• • •
At first I argued against being brought to a hospital, but wisdom replaced my false sense of valor and I found myself in the emergency room at the Maui Memorial Medical Center in Wailuku, where a physician took a look at my wounds. A nurse cleaned and dressed my knee and hip, and an X-ray of my back didn't reveal any structural damage. The only concern was my headache. Had I suffered a concussion? The prevailing view was that I hadn't and that a good night's sleep and some Tylenol would do the trick. But they cautioned me to be aware of any of the symptoms they described that could indicate a concussion.
While waiting to be discharged I called Mike Kane's cell phone.
"Hello, Jessica," he said. "How was your trip up to Haleakala?"
"The trip up was wonderful," I said. "It was coming down on the bicycle that posed a problem."
"Are you all right? Are you hurt?"
I gave him a capsule recounting of what had happened.
"Terrible," he said. "Have you filed a police report?"
"No."
"You must. I'll be there in twenty minutes and take you to headquarters. You can go through the mug shots and see if you spot this _hūpō_."
"This _what_?"
" _Hūpō._ Fool."
"He's more than a fool, Mike. He's a thug, and he might be a murderer."
"I'll be there in fifteen."
"But you're working."
"If you can call it that. Dull day, no complaints from guests. Sit tight. See you in a few minutes."
While waiting for Mike to arrive, I looked around the emergency room, where other patients were being evaluated and treated. A loud moan came from an adjacent treatment bay surrounded by a white curtain. I winced in sympathy for what the person in there was suffering. The curtain parted and a nurse emerged, followed by none other than Elaine Lowell.
"Elaine," I said, getting up and sitting right back down when my own pain reminded me that my knees and back were still sore.
"Jessica? What happened to you?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing."
"Bob fell off his bike. He has a broken shoulder."
"I had an accident, too." I didn't bother going into detail about how my "accident" came about.
"I knew he was too old to ride a bike."
A bellow came from behind the curtain. "Elaine!"
"He needs me." She smiled wanly.
I followed her to the treatment bay, pausing at the curtain. Bob lay on the gurney; a pretty Asian nurse tended to him.
"Jessica Fletcher? That you?" he said, managing to raise his head.
"Yes," I said, stepping closer so he could see me.
"How come you're here?"
"It's a long story," I said.
"Bob has to have surgery on his shoulder," Elaine said.
"Stupid thing," he said. "That bike was no good. If I had a decent bike, this never would have happened. I should sue 'em."
The nurse patted his hand. "Just lie back and take it easy, Mr. Lowell. The surgeon will be here shortly and everything will be fine."
Bob grasped her hand, his eyes imploring. "How about a little hug for good luck?"
The nurse looked at Elaine and me, disengaged from him, raised her eyebrows, and ducked around the curtain.
"Oh, Bob," Elaine said.
I saw the disappointment on his face. "I'll give you a good-luck hug, Bob."
And I did, and was glad that I had.
They wheeled Bob away for surgery and I returned to the waiting area, where Mike Kane had just arrived. Seeing him walk in buoyed my spirits, and I happily hobbled from the hospital on his arm.
Once we were in the car, he handed me a package wrapped in paper towel. It was heavy.
"What is it?"
"Lani sent it to you. It's for good luck."
I rolled off the paper, and a gray rock dropped into my lap. I turned it over to see a white drawing on its smooth gray surface. It was a circle surrounding two white dots.
"That's the symbol for the goddess Uli," Mike said.
"Yes. The heavenly mother. I remember."
"Lani thought you needed a little protection, so she wanted you to have it. Although by the looks of it, Uli's already been working for you. You're lucky you're alive."
"I'm well aware of that. Please thank Lani for me. I wanted to get a gift for her, and here she's giving me a gift."
"There will be plenty of time for reciprocating, provided you stay in one piece."
"I have to stop at the tour operator to return these clothes and tell them about the bike. Could we swing by there first?"
"Sure you shouldn't go straight back to the hotel and get into bed?"
"Maybe later. Right now I need to follow up on what happened. The man who forced me off the road was in the van when it arrived to pick me up at the hotel. He must have registered."
"Okay, but fill me in on the details of what happened."
I gave him a rundown, including my delayed recognition of the man as having been at the luau the night Mala died, and recounted the brief conversation I'd overheard him have with another man.
"Were they talking about Mala?" Mike said.
"It didn't occur to me at the time," I said. "I never gave it much thought until she died. Now that one of those men tried to kill me, there can't be any other conclusion to come to."
"Let's see what they have on record at the tour operator," Mike said, speeding up.
After multiple expressions of condolences for what happened to me while on their tour—and with my assurances that I wasn't intending to sue them—I asked about the man with the shaved head. Yes, they had the reservation he'd made. "John Smith" was his name.
"John Smith?" Mike and I said in unison.
The tour operator shrugged. "We don't check on people's names," he said. "He paid in cash; it's not unusual."
"What about the hotel where you picked him up?" Mike asked.
A phone call confirmed that no person named John Smith was registered there, nor had anyone by that name reserved a spot on the Haleakala tour through the hotel. A further check of records indicated that he'd made the call from a phone not associated with the hotel but had asked to be picked up there.
"You say he deliberately forced you off the road?" I was asked.
"Yes."
"That's a first for us," the tour operator said. "All I can say is how sorry we are, and if you want another bike tour of Haleakala, it's on us."
I managed a laugh. "I'm not ready to take you up on that, but I'll keep it in mind. I left the bike on the side of the road. My apologies. I'm sure it was damaged in my fall."
"No need for apologies, Mrs. Fletcher. Please, if anything we need to apologize to you. However, I must assure you that all our bikes are checked before they leave here. We have a detailed system to ensure the safety of all our vehicles. The brakes on your bike passed our inspection—but I have to say they wouldn't now."
"You've seen the bicycle already?"
"Oh, yes, it was delivered here by one of the other tour operators. We went over it carefully and discovered a problem that wasn't there before. We believe someone must have tampered with the front brakes."
"This is taking on a whole new dimension," Mike commented as we got back in his car. "This thug who tried to run you off the road obviously works for someone who has it in for you, and the only reason I can think of is that it's connected to Ms. Kapule's murder."
"I see that you're now saying 'murder' rather than 'death.'"
"Up until now I didn't want to rush to judgment, Jessica, but as far as I'm concerned, she didn't accidently fall. Someone killed her—and has tried to kill you."
"You want me to file a report at police headquarters?"
"Absolutely, especially in light of the tour operator's comments regarding possible tampering with the brakes. You should also look through mug shots. Maybe you'll get lucky and spot this man's picture. Are you feeling up to it?"
"I'm fine, Mike. While I'm doing that, can you check on a company, Douglas Fir Engineering? It's in Oregon, back on the mainland."
"Why your interest in it?"
"Mala's attorney was at last night's meeting of the anti-telescope group. He told me she was hired as a consultant to this company in Oregon and was evidently paid a good sum of money for her work. I remember seeing an envelope from the company on Mala's desk. It might mean nothing, but I'd like to erase it off the list of things on my mental blackboard."
"Easy to do," he said.
With Mike as my escort into police headquarters, I was quickly ushered into a small conference room with a computer. Detective Tahaki was there, as well as a female uniformed officer who got me settled at the table.
"Sorry to see you again under these circumstances," Tahaki said. "Mike explained what happened."
"Thank you."
"Can we get you some coffee? Juice?" the officer asked.
"That would be lovely," I said. "You wouldn't happen to have iced tea with pineapple juice, would you?"
"I think I can come up with that," she said.
Mike left as Detective Tahaki recorded my statement about what had occurred on the bike trip down from Haleakala and said that it would be typed up for me to sign before I left. "Now," he said, "let's see if we can identify this guy who assaulted you."
He punched up a program on the computer and entered my description of my assailant. "If he's had a run-in with the law, he'll be in one of these files," he said.
With my now-favorite drink in front of me, I started the slow, tedious process of looking at face after face of men—Asian, Caucasian, a smattering of African-Americans, bearded, clean-shaven, some hardened, others not looking like anyone I would assume was a lawbreaker—a cross section of male humanity.
Mike returned while I went through the process and sat silently as I scrolled through one page after the other, finishing one file and going on to the next. After I'd gone through them, I exhaled and shook my head. "No," I said, "I don't recognize any of these faces."
"This was just a start," Tahaki said. "We'll broaden the description and see if we can get you a hit."
While he looked for additional files for my perusal, I asked Mike whether he'd been successful in checking on Douglas Fir Engineering.
He nodded.
"And?"
"Interesting, Jessica. You'd said that you assumed it would be a company engaged in some sort of horticultural business."
"A reasonable assumption."
"Reasonable assumptions aren't always the right ones," he said. "Douglas Fir is a construction company."
"Construction? What sort of construction?"
"Well, its last major construction project was a large telescope installation in Arizona."
I'd grown sleepy looking at the photos, but I snapped wide-awake. "Douglas Fir builds large telescopes?"
"Not the scopes themselves, but they build all the supporting facilities—buildings, housing for the scientists, parking lots, that sort of thing."
"Mike," I said, "do you think that—?"
"Douglas Fir must have been in competition with Witherspoon's company for the Haleakala job," he said.
"Oh, my goodness! I hope Mala wasn't being paid to cause delays."
"If she was, she may have been trying to cost Witherspoon a fortune in hopes that he would drop out and the project would go back to bid."
_Oh, no!_ I slumped back in my chair. Could it be that Mala's zeal for halting the construction of the telescope on Haleakala wasn't a passion to defend the rights of the Hawaiian people after all? I prayed that what this revelation suggested wasn't true. I couldn't bear to think that Mala wasn't really working to preserve Haleakala as a sacred Hawaiian site, that her motive instead was to stall it long enough for Witherspoon to give up thoughts of making a profit on the job, leaving it open for Douglas Fir Engineering to move in. I hated to think that her battle against the telescope was inspired by money rather than conviction.
The contemplation that Mala Kapule possibly wasn't everything I thought she was took all the starch out of me. I knew I couldn't rely on a day's acquaintance to judge her character entirely. But to think I might have found myself so far from the mark was disheartening.
"I really don't want to go through more mug-shot files," I told Mike and Detective Tahaki. "Can I come back at another time?"
"Sure," Tahaki said. He turned to Mike and added, "Better see your partner gets some rest."
I asked Mike to drive me back to my hotel.
"You'll be okay by yourself?" he asked as he parked in the lot. "You've been through a tough ordeal."
"I'll be all right," I said. "I'm tired, that's all. It was an early start this morning. Thanks for being here for me."
"What's a partner for?" He grinned. "I'm tied up again tomorrow at the hotel."
"That's fine," I said. "I need a more leisurely day anyway."
"I'll call you," he said.
"Good. Thanks again, Mike. And thank Lani for me, too."
It was after I'd gotten into my room, perched my stone with its image of Uli—my "protection"—on the nightstand, stripped off the clothing that reminded me of what had happened that day, and taken a hot shower that I remembered that Mala's funeral was the next morning.
So much for a leisurely day.
My stomach reminded me I was hungry. I debated calling for room service but decided against it. A bag of macadamia nuts provided by the hotel and a bottle of club soda from the minifridge took the edge off. I climbed into bed and was asleep in minutes. But in my dreams I flew miles above the dormant Haleakala on a bicycle, then suddenly fell thousands of feet into the crater, which erupted angrily and buried me in molten lava. Hardly the recipe for a restful sleep.
# Chapter Eighteen
A Hui Hou—Until We Meet Again
Mala's funeral was held at Big Beach at Makena State Park on Maui's south shore, only a few miles from where she'd fallen to her death. I had hoped that Elijah Kapule would be my taxi driver, but he was probably busy helping set up the park for the event. The driver this day was a heavyset woman with a deep, raspy voice and a no-nonsense demeanor. There was no conversation while she drove, her only lapses of attention to the road when she honked and gave passing motorists what had now become a familiar Hawaiian signal, her fist raised with thumb and pinkie extended.
_"Mahalo,"_ I said after paying the fare.
She grunted something in return as she shoved the bills I'd handed her into the front of her red-and-white flowered blouse and pulled away. Her brusque manner was annoying, but I reminded myself that she was a glaring exception to the unfailing friendliness of the Hawaiian people, in particular those in the hospitality industry, many of whom wore buttons proclaiming LIVE THE ALOHA SPIRIT.
The beach where the park was situated was no wider than a hundred feet but appeared to be almost a mile long. Protected from the winds by a large outcropping of lava rock, it was likely one of Maui's more secluded places. But this day a large crowd had gathered for a celebration of Mala Kapule's life. Elijah had certainly been right. There wasn't a single item of solid black clothing to be seen. Instead those milling about the myriad picnic tables and barbecue grills wore a spectrum of colors befitting a rainbow, interspersed with white. This would not be a somber grieving of Mala's death. It looked more as though another luau was being prepared, and the colorful clothing better suited the festive mood. I'd opted for white slacks, a yellow-and-green flowered blouse I'd recently purchased, and a white cap with a narrow brim to shield me from the sun. I fit right in.
I stepped onto the sand. In front of me were two young women dressed in traditional hula skirts, and three musicians, two holding ukuleles, the third an electric bass attached to an amplifier tethered to an electrical outlet on a post in the ground. A four-man outrigger canoe painted with vivid slashes of red, blue, and gold rested at the shoreline, bobbing in the gentle swells of the sea. A half dozen smaller canoes flanked it, along with a few colorful surfboards standing nose down in the sand.
One of the hula dancers carrying dozens of yellow and red leis extended one to me.
_"Mahalo,"_ I said, lowering my head so that she could slip it onto my neck.
Elijah stood with several other cousins whom I'd met at Mala's house, forming an informal reception line, greeting those who came for the funeral. I took my place at the end of the queue of people waiting to see them. Up ahead I spotted Mala's former beau Carson Nihipali among the mourners.
I didn't count the number of people, but a quick, rough estimate was forty or fifty. Given that this was a Wednesday, a workday and a school day, I was pleased that so many people had come to pay their respects. Despite the fact that the more I learned about Mala, the more I realized how little I actually knew about her, I couldn't help maintaining my affection for this young woman whose uncle viewed her so proudly and whose _'ohana_ admired and loved her.
One of Mala's cousins, whom I'd met at her house, crossed the sand and welcomed me. _"Aloha,"_ Joshua said. "It's wonderful that you are here."
"I wouldn't have missed it."
"My brother Elijah noticed you're limping. Are you all right?"
"I had an accident on the bike ride down from Haleakala."
"Oh, no. Not too serious, I hope."
"Bumps and bruises, but nothing terminal. I'll be fine."
"Let me make it easier for you," he said taking my arm. He led me to where his aunt sat in a folding red beach chair, a glass in her hand.
"Auntie Edie, see who's here," Joshua said. "It's Mrs. Fletcher."
She looked up at me, smiled, and extended a gnarled hand. "Mala's friend Jessica," she said.
"Hello, Auntie Edie."
She nodded approvingly and fingered the lei she wore, a bright orange version of my yellow one. "You wear the _hala lei_. It is right for today."
"These leis are special," Joshua put in. " _Hala leis_ are given to mark a passage, for the end of a venture or the start of a new one." He cocked his head at me. "An appropriate symbol for a funeral, don't you think?"
Auntie Edie squeezed my hand. "Mala is happy that you are here."
"I'm sure that she's happy that everyone is here to celebrate her life."
The musical trio began playing Hawaiian melodies, and Auntie Edie turned her attention to them.
Joshua, having appointed himself my informal escort, led me to a long table covered with a white cloth on which floral petals had been scattered. Along with tall, frosty pitchers of drinks, there were small framed photos of Mala, and a laptop computer set to a slideshow of family pictures in which Mala aged from infant to toddler to schoolgirl to graduate student and finally to adult. I paused to watch as the images slid sideways across the screen.
"She was beautiful," I said.
"Very beautiful," he agreed. "And generous with her cousins. She recently bought us some fancy management software for our taxi business. May I get you some pineapple iced tea?"
"I'd love some."
"We have other beverages as well, but we don't serve alcohol at funerals."
"A prudent rule," I said.
He poured me a glass.
"I've developed quite a fondness for this," I said.
"Many people do." He looked over my shoulder. "More guests are arriving. Please excuse me."
A line of cars was pulling into the small parking lot. Their passengers traipsed through the trees to get to the beach, many carrying folding chairs. Among the newcomers were Professor Abbott Luzon and his graduate assistant, Grace Latimer, attired in a black sheath under a yellow sweater. I looked for Luzon's wife, Honi, but didn't see her. Maybe she was planning to come later. Then again, based upon the angry words they'd exchanged, it wouldn't have surprised me if the Luzons often went their separate ways.
Grace was smiling as she took Luzon's arm to navigate the soft sand. I supposed it was a relief to be out from under Honi's accusations. Was she the "other woman" to whom Honi Luzon had been referring during their argument? Although Honi hadn't identified Grace by name, I had assumed Abbott's graduate assistant was the object of his wife's jealous rage. She certainly had been the object of Honi's sarcasm at the luau. Honi had displayed overt hostility toward Grace all evening.
However, after our tense meeting with Luzon, Mike Kane and I had speculated as to whether Mala herself may have entered into an intimate relationship with her colleague. I had trouble picturing Mala with Abbott Luzon, even though they had a great deal in common regarding their chosen professional path and the focus of their advanced education. For some reason, I'd had no difficulty at all imagining her with her former beau Carson Nihipali. But there's no accounting for attraction, and I reserved judgment as to whether the two professors might have been an item. After all, I may have been wrong about Mala before.
At this juncture, Mike and I were left with two motives for her murder: a crime of passion or a crime fueled by money.
Both rank high on the list of age-old reasons for homicide. But which one was it?
By the time the service was about to begin, the crowd had swelled by half and included Mala's angry but love-struck student, Dale, who stood alone in white shorts and shirt on the perimeter of the gathering, a scowl on his face. His gaze was directed at the crewman of the _Maui Ocean Star_ Carson Nihipali.
Fragrant smoke from the barbecue grills filled the air as the band continued playing, and the hula dancers began to gyrate. I strolled to where a small table held a basket wrapped in a colorful scarf and topped with flowers. A woman behind the table greeted me.
_"Aloha,"_ she said, and asked how I knew Mala.
I explained our brief time together.
"Have you been to a Hawaiian funeral before?"
"No. This is my first."
"I saw you were interested in this basket. It's the _pu'olu_ , a traditional basket woven of ti leaves. Mala's ashes are in it."
She smiled at my raised eyebrows.
"Sometimes we sprinkle the ashes in the sea, and sometimes we enclose them in a _pu'olu_ like this one. Her ashes are in a biodegradable bag and will eventually be set free in the ocean."
"Somehow I'd thought Mala's ashes would be brought to the volcano, given that it was a special interest of hers."
"It would have been nice." She gently touched the basket as if caressing its contents. "Many families have done so in the past, but there has been a recent prohibition against it. Too bad. Everyone knew that Haleakala was Mala's first love."
Was it, though? I thought of what I'd recently learned about Mala's consulting contract with the Oregon construction company. Mike and I had speculated that Douglas Fir Engineering could have paid her to delay the telescope project, at least until the Witherspoon company gave up and pulled out. Had Mala's "love" for Haleakala been based on its importance and meaning to the Hawaiian people, or had her zeal to protect it been based, at least in part, on the money she was receiving? Could we ever be certain now that Mala was no longer alive to explain herself?
As I walked away from the basket holding Mala's ashes, I pondered whether Cale Witherspoon knew of her connection to the rival construction company. If so, would that have given him a motive to remove her from the picture? And who else had a motive?
Professor Luzon and Grace Latimer were approaching the table as I left, and our paths crossed.
"I'm surprised to see you here, Mrs. Fletcher," Luzon said stiffly.
"Why is it so surprising?"
"I wasn't aware that you were close to Professor Kapule."
"Don't you remember, Abbott?" Grace said. "Mrs. Fletcher was looking for her friend all night long at the luau. That friend was Mala."
"I guess I wasn't paying close attention."
"Can you believe that was the night Mala fell to her death? Oh, my goodness, Mrs. Fletcher, if you had found her, Mala might never have gone on that walk, and we wouldn't be here mourning her passing."
I didn't think Grace was mourning anyone's passing, although she certainly seemed to enjoy exaggerating a story.
Luzon adopted his best professorial expression and addressed me as if I were an inferior student: "Are you still pursuing the silly idea that Mala was murdered?"
"I don't think I'd term it silly, Professor Luzon."
"Mala was a passionate woman," he said, emphasizing _passionate_ and drawing a startled glance from Grace. "If she was determined to retrieve some bit of intriguing flora under dangerous circumstances, I do not find it out of character. It fits right in with her unconventional persona."
I could almost hear Grace heave a sigh of relief.
"Hawaiian funerals are meant to celebrate the life of the deceased, not sully it," Luzon continued. "Mala accidently died in pursuit of something she cared about. To suggest that murder was behind her demise is to cheapen both her life and her death."
"I hardly think I'm sullying her reputation if I'm trying to determine who might have killed her," I said. "It's the person responsible for pushing her off that cliff whose reputation is in jeopardy."
He directed a patronizing smile at me. "Suit yourself."
Despite my best intentions, I felt the urge to argue my case.
"You know, she was a flake," Grace put in. "A nice flake, but a flake all the same. People like that take all sorts of chances. Dangerous chances."
"In the meantime, the ceremony is about to begin," Luzon said. "This discussion is over." He pulled on Grace's arm, leaving me alone with my irritation at myself for allowing him to provoke me.
While I'd been biting my tongue to keep from quarrelling with Professor Luzon, the members of the group Mala had led opposing construction on Haleakala had arrived. I went to greet James Feary, Mala's attorney, feeling the need for more simpatico company as the service began.
The funeral was led by a man wearing a flowing Hawaiian shirt, slacks, sandals, and a wide-brimmed straw hat.
"Do you know who that is?" I asked Feary.
"A priest," he said, nodding.
"Was Mala a religious person?"
"Doesn't matter. The priest won't be invoking any gods you've heard of in mainstream religions. Here in Hawaii we offer up the deceased to the _akua_ , all the gods. The spirit of the deceased will watch over us, especially the _kūpuna_."
_"Kūpuna?"_
"The elderly. They're the ones who are closest to getting ready to join the one who has already passed, and they're treated with special reverence. Mala's auntie Edie is the oldest of her remaining family. She'll receive the most attention from Pele, the goddess of fire."
"I have a lot to learn," I said.
"Just enjoy it." He smiled. "Allow the spirits to flow through you."
And that was what I did. The priest led the ceremony, which included music. The hula dancers performed their art as they circled the basket containing Mala's ashes. Much of what the priest said was in Hawaiian, but some was in English, which made understanding what was happening a little easier for me. The musicians were joined by three bare-chested young men wearing loincloths who played various-sized drums that ramped up the tempo and had people tapping their feet. Some danced solo, eyes closed, as though one with the spirit of the music and with other spirits that only they could see. In between musical interludes, the priest recited Hawaiian legends and called people up to read some of Mala's favorite poems. I'd never attended a funeral anything like this and found myself immersed in the joy of the event as speaker after speaker praised Mala and sent her off to a prized place in heaven.
At the end of the ceremony, the priest carried the basket holding Mala's ashes to the outrigger canoe, where four young men accepted it. They placed it in the center of the canoe, laying floral wreaths others had brought to the funeral across the bow and stern, then pushed off into the water, followed by a convoy of smaller craft. People in canoes and kayaks paddled alongside the larger boat. Two young men used the surfboards to accompany the outrigger.
Carson Nihipali had stripped off his shirt, revealing a tattoo of Mala's face on his left shoulder. He was pushing off in a kayak to accompany the little flotilla surrounding the outrigger, when Dale waded into the water. He caught the kayak by its gunwale, upending the small craft and dumping the "surfer dude," as Grace had termed him, into the sea.
"She was too good for you," Dale shouted as he tried to step around the kayak, fists ready to take on Carson. "How dare you claim her for yourself?"
Carson attempted to scramble to his feet, but a wave hit him in the chest, knocking him back. Dale splashed over to him, trying a last-minute leap onto his rival, only to catch an armful of water as Carson backpedaled away. The two men managed to stand upright, but the action of the water kept them from gaining a steady foothold, and they rose and fell as the waves pressed them toward shore.
"She didn't want me either, man," Carson yelled to Dale. His voice was hoarse. "I tried to convince her to come back to me the night she died. She turned me down. She was just wasting her time with both of us. Besides, what difference does it make now?" He ran the fingers of both hands through his hair, slicking it back from his forehead. I couldn't tell if the moisture beneath his eyes was from tears or his dunk in the sea.
Dale appeared to have received a blow. He leaned over in the water, hands on his knees, breathing heavily.
Carson caught the line of his kayak and waded to shore, dragging the lightweight craft behind him. He leaned down and swiped up his shirt from the sand without missing a step and trudged off the beach.
Witnesses to the brief confrontation turned their attention back to the little fleet of boats, which were arrayed in a circle around the outrigger.
"What's happening now?" I asked Feary.
"The ceremony of releasing Mala to the sea," he said. "At some funerals, the whole body is given over to the ocean in expectation that sharks will consume the dead."
"That sounds rather gruesome."
"Not at all," said Feary. "Any sharks that have feasted on the deceased will never again attack a human being. The human spirit that lives within them will see to that."
It was a lovely thought.
We joined a line of mourners at the shoreline as we watched the ceremonial burial at sea, listening to the chanting as the basket was released into the waters. Others in the accompanying canoes surrounded the bobbing basket with hundreds of flower blossoms of every color. Soon, the basket disappeared from our view. Mala Kapule had gone to her final resting place.
With the ceremony concluded, the celebration continued with a feast. There was chicken in lauhala leaves, roast pork, beef on skewers, poi of course, and platters of fresh vegetables and fruits, some of which I didn't recognize. I tried to sample everything without putting too much on my plate. The atmosphere was festive, a joyous send-off to Mala.
It had been four hours since I'd arrived at the park, and I was ready to leave. My knees ached, as did my back, and I felt the trace of a headache coming on. As I pondered whom to approach to call a cab, I caught sight of Dale standing to the side, watching the festivities but declining to participate. We hadn't spoken for the entire event, and I wondered what had been going through his mind when he tried to take revenge on Carson while the woman he claimed to love was buried at sea.
"Hello, Dale," I said. "You must be uncomfortable in those wet clothes."
"She's gone," he said absently.
"Yes. It was a beautiful ceremony."
He snorted. "If you don't mind the hypocrisy behind it."
"I'm not sure I understand," I said.
"Some of these people shedding tears over her death couldn't care less."
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. "It seemed to me that the outpouring of sorrow and the celebration of her life was genuine."
"For some, perhaps."
"Who are the exceptions?" I asked, hoping my questioning wouldn't bring a halt to our conversation.
Dale looked past me to where Luzon and Grace stood talking with other attendees. "He's the worst. He would egg her on and then sit back and let her take the flack for opposing the telescope."
"Professor Luzon?"
He nodded.
"Why do you think he would do that?"
"Isn't it obvious? The more she bucked the system, the better his chances at getting the chairmanship. Luzon is nothing if not ambitious."
"I understand Mala was pretty ambitious herself."
He shrugged and glanced down at his cell phone. He tapped the screen for several moments, but I don't imagine it was working if it had been in his pocket when he tried to tackle Carson in the water.
"I wonder whether you would do me a favor," I said.
"Maybe. What favor?"
"I need a ride back to my hotel. The only number I have for a cab service is Mala's cousin Elijah." I held up the business card Elijah had given me. "I can hardly ask him to leave his family's service to drive me across the island."
"Sure, I'll drive you." He dropped his dead phone into the pocket of his shorts. "I've got nothing else to do today."
"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd greatly appreciate it."
"No, no trouble."
As we walked to the parking lot he noticed my limp. "You got hurt?" he asked.
I told him about my accident biking down from Haleakala.
"Riding bikes down from the volcano is stupid."
"In my case 'foolhardy' might be a more apt term." I could have said that fighting over a dead woman at her funeral was not the smartest move he had ever made, but I resisted. I needed a ride, and it didn't pay to antagonize the driver.
Dale's car was a battered older silver two-door coupe with a few dents in the fender and scrapes along the side. "Welcome to my Maui cruiser," he said with a smirk.
"Is that a brand of car?"
"Almost. It's what we call a car that doesn't have much life left. Dented, rusted, horn doesn't work. You get the picture. Still runs, though."
I got in the passenger side. Dale took a towel from the trunk and laid it across the driver's seat, got behind the wheel, pulled a cigarette from a pack on the dashboard, and lit it, not bothering to ask whether I minded. I rolled down my window, and he did the same. The engine came to life with a loud, hesitant rumble.
"Where to?" he asked.
I gave him the name of my hotel in Kahului.
"I know it," he said. "I sometimes work as a waiter at catered events. I've worked there."
We said nothing as we drove away, Dale puffing on his cigarette until it was down to its filter. He casually tossed it out the window.
"I don't know your last name," I said.
"Mossman. My father was Jewish, my mother Hawaiian."
"You grew up here on Maui?"
"Yup. Lived here through high school until I joined the army. Did two tours in Afghanistan."
"And now you're getting your college education. Why horticulture?"
My question brought forth his first smile. "Not very macho, huh?"
"I wasn't implying that."
"My mother loved plants and flowers. She spent most of her time tending to our gardens. I guess it rubbed off on her only son."
"It's certainly a worthwhile field of study." I let a few seconds pass before saying, "You've said that you were in love with Mala Kapule."
He pressed his lips together and nodded.
"Did she—well, did she reciprocate?"
"Do you mean did we have an affair? In a manner of speaking, I suppose you could say that we did. We had a couple of dates, had to keep it hush-hush. Professors aren't supposed to go out with their students."
"But you're older than the typical student."
"I'm twenty-seven, Mrs. Fletcher. There were only five or six years between us, although to hear her tell it, we were a May-December romance." He adopted a singsong voice. "Women mature much faster than men."
"That's what she would say?"
"Yeah, but I don't think she really believed it. It was just an excuse to push me off. It may be true when you're a teenager, but by the time we're in our late twenties, early thirties, I figure we guys have caught up. Besides, a tour in the service will grow you up pretty fast."
He turned down a road leading to my hotel and stopped in front of a small food shack.
"Feel like a cold drink?" he asked.
"I—sure. That sounds good."
We took our drinks to a picnic table at the side of the establishment, a strawberry milk shake for him, a glass of POG for me. He stepped over the bench and lowered himself wearily onto its seat. It appeared to me that time and heat had dried out his white shirt and shorts. The only evidence of his dip in the ocean was his nonworking cell phone.
"I'll try burying it in a bowl of raw rice tonight," he said after unsuccessfully trying to resurrect its signal. "If that doesn't work, I'll have to get a new one."
"I don't know if you're aware that I'm working with a retired Maui homicide detective, Mike Kane, to clear up questions about how Mala died."
His surprised expression indicated that he wasn't aware of it.
"I know that the official reason for her death is an accident, but there are circumstances that might refute that finding."
"You think someone pushed her?"
"Possibly."
"Why? What makes you think that?"
"An accumulation of small things, none of which in and of themselves prove that her death wasn't an accident. But I'm determined to find out the truth, and I'm sure that someone like you would want that, too."
"Someone like me?"
"Someone who loved her."
He pressed his lips together, and I wondered whether he was holding back tears. I didn't know to what extent his personal relationship with Mala had progressed, but I sensed that whatever affection existed was more on his side than on hers.
"Dale," I said as he lit a cigarette, "I'm not interested in probing into your personal life, but since you and Mala were close, maybe you know something that will help me and Detective Kane find the answers we're seeking."
"Well, if you look anywhere, make sure you look down the hall."
"That's a little cryptic. I'm not sure I understand what you mean."
"Down the hall in the 'Ike Le'a building. You know what that means? It means 'to see clearly.' Ironic, isn't it? If ever there was a place that covered up the truth, it's his office."
"Whose office?"
"Luzon's, of course."
"Why Professor Luzon?"
"She would have been the chair of the department if he hadn't gone behind her back and bought off the administration."
"That's a serious charge," I said. "Also, I don't see how it sheds light on her death. Professor Luzon's graduate assistant, Grace Latimer, hypothesized that Mala might have been so upset at not being tapped to chair the department that she took her own life."
"That's a hoot," he said, although there was no humor in his voice.
"I agree that it's a ridiculous notion."
"He used Mala."
"In what way?"
"He led her on."
I sat back and took a sip of my drink to gather my thoughts. "Care to elaborate?" I said.
"Luzon is on the make for every good-looking young woman. Why do you think Grace hangs on his every word? He's probably promising her the same thing he promised Mala."
"Which was?"
"To leave his wife and marry her."
"How do you know that Luzon and Mala had an affair, Dale?"
"I saw what he wrote to her."
"E-mails?"
"Yeah. Mala paid me to help her do some administrative work in her office. It wasn't much, but I would have done anything to be close to her. When she was out of the office, I took a look at the e-mail on her computer and dug around in her desk." I started to say something, but he stopped me with his upheld hand. "I know, I know. I shouldn't have done that, but I was jealous as hell, Mrs. Fletcher. Jealousy will sometimes make a guy do dumb things."
"I'm not judging you," I said. "What did the e-mails say?"
"They were from Luzon, love letters I guess you could call them, mushy notes about how much he loved her and how once his divorce came through, he'd be free to court her properly. It made me sick."
"I understand," I said. "And did she reply to his messages?"
"I don't know. She came back into the lab before I had a chance to look at her sent folder." He put his cigarette out on the ground and finished his shake. "Come on," he said, "I'll take you to your hotel. Thanks for listening. I've wanted to get it off my chest for a long time."
"I appreciate you having confidence in me," I said.
He pulled up in front of the hotel and I got out.
"Mrs. Fletcher," he said through his open window.
"Yes?"
"I really did love Mala."
# Chapter Nineteen
Aia Nō Iā 'Oe—Whatever You Want to Do
Dale's parting words stayed with me as I crossed the lobby and headed for my room.
My reaction to him was conflicted. I admired him for serving in the military and now pursuing his college education. While he was younger than Mala, his four years in the army, including time in a war zone, had matured him beyond most of his classmates. Perhaps Mala had found his wartime experiences to be appealing. But I had to wonder whether he was exaggerating the extent to which their relationship had progressed—provided it _had_ progressed beyond his infatuation with her. Too, his demeanor was disconcerting. He was consistently pessimistic, always wearing an angry expression. It's hard to warm up to someone who sees only the negative side of life. He didn't appear to be a drug or alcohol abuser, but then again, I might not recognize the symptoms; my life has brought me into contact with few addicts.
I thought back to that morning when I sat in the rear of Mala's class and observed her dismiss him when he'd tried to capture her attention. Had they had a relationship that she'd broken off? Men who've been cast aside by a lover sometimes become angry enough to physically strike out at the woman who rejected them.
These and other questions occupied my mind as I opened the door to my room to the sound of a ringing phone.
"Jessica, Mike Kane."
"Hello, Mike."
"How was the funeral?"
"It was a wonderful experience. That may sound strange, but it was so unlike funerals we have back home in Maine."
"Burial at sea, the whole ritual?"
"Yes. It was much more of a celebration of her life than a mourning of her death."
"The Hawaiian way. Jessica, I got a call from Henry Tahaki, the detective who showed you the mug shots. He said that you agreed to come back to look at more of them."
I sighed. "Yes, he's right, Mike. I did say that I'd do that."
"How about this afternoon?"
"That will be fine. I have nothing planned."
"Good. I'll pick you up in a half hour."
"Aren't you working?"
"My assistant will hold down the fort. Nothing happening here at the resort, no male guest claiming that a housekeeper is taking nips from his flask or female guest claiming that someone is up in a tree and peeking in on her."
I laughed.
"Hey! Laugh if you like, but it happened just last week. Turned out she was right. A Peeping Tom climbed up the tree and was snapping pictures of her with his cell phone. I called the police, and they hauled him away. Seems he had a long record of peeping through windows. See you in the lobby."
During the ride to police headquarters, I gave Mike a detailed description of Mala's funeral, ending with my conversation with Dale.
"You don't sound very impressed with him," Mike said as he pulled into a parking space.
"I don't know what to think," I said. "He has such a downbeat personality. I wish I had a better handle on him."
Mike and I were seated in the same room I'd been in previously when looking at mug shots. Had I been honest, I would have admitted that I didn't have any hope of seeing the man who'd forced me off the road on my bike and almost sent me to my death. But I went along with the process because it was expected.
When Detective Tahaki greeted us, he started by handing me a folder containing a series of photographs. They were of me following the incident, sprawled on the roadway, my helmet on, then shots of me sitting with my helmet off.
"Where did you get these?" I asked.
"A man who was there shot them and thought we'd like to have them."
"That was good of him," I said, "although I hope none of them ended up on Facebook."
"Not as far as we know," Tahaki said. "He was just another public-spirited citizen. We've got lots of them on Maui."
He set up the computer containing mug shots on the desktop. I was on my second file when my cynicism was proved wrong. There was my assailant staring at me, the same man who'd been my fellow passenger in the van going to the summit of Haleakala and who'd selected a bike for me and then used his own to attack me.
"That's him," I said.
"You sure, Mrs. Fletcher?" Tahaki asked.
"I'm positive."
He looked at me from the screen, shaved head, downturned mouth, whiskered jowls.
"Who is he?" I asked.
"Let's print it out," the detective said and left the room.
He returned a few minutes later and handed me a sheet of paper. At the top was the same photo of the man that I'd seen in the mug shot. His name was Christian Barlow, age forty-six, divorced, two children, occupation: maritime mechanic. His rap sheet was long—arrests for assault, nonpayment of child support, possession of an unlicensed handgun; three convictions for driving while intoxicated, and car theft (charges dropped).
"Not a very savory record," I commented.
"I know the _hūpō_ ," Mike Kane said. "Had a run-in with him before I retired. Comes off like a tough guy, but he's really just a loser."
"Look at this," I said, pointing to more information on the sheet. "His last known employment was with Maui Ocean Star Corp. That's the company that runs the sunset cruise I went on. It's owned by Charlie Reed."
"We pulled Reed in concerning Ms. Kapule's death," Tahaki said.
"On what basis?" Mike asked.
"We considered her death an accident," the detective said, "but there was some pressure to keep the case open." He looked askance at Mike.
"Hey, I'm not official anymore."
"Your definition of 'retired' isn't my definition," Tahaki said. "Because Ms. Kapule was so active in that organization trying to kill the telescope project on Haleakala, we figured that anybody with a lot to lose was worth talking to. You know Reed. Likes to think of himself as a mover and shaker. He's head of the committee that's been fighting Ms. Kapule's efforts tooth and nail."
"I spoke with Charlie Reed at your family picnic, Mike. Remember? He told me that he'd been brought in for questioning. He wasn't happy about it."
The detective shrugged and smiled. "Men like Reed like to toss around their money and influence. I was the one who questioned him. I justified having him come in by saying that we needed him to help us come up with a possible suspect in the lady's death, you know, reaching out to community leaders and all that. He complained about having to take time off from his business but didn't make too much of a stink."
"Was he any help?" I asked.
"No. He kept saying that everyone on his committee were upstanding, law-abiding citizens, which, I should add, is undoubtedly true."
"But Barlow works for Reed," I offered. "Or he did."
Tahaki laughed. "I don't think he had Barlow in mind when he was talking about upstanding citizens. You want to file a complaint against Barlow, Mrs. Fletcher?"
"I do," I said. "After all, he almost killed me, and it was deliberate."
He picked up a phone and called in two uniformed officers, handed them Barlow's rap sheet, which had his current address, and told them to bring him in.
"No need for you to wait around," he told Mike and me. "He may have gone off island after the incident."
"I'd like to stay for a while," I said, "but maybe you'd like to leave, Mike."
"No, I'll hang in. Your officers will call when they've located Barlow?"
"They'd better."
Mike suggested that we go to a small restaurant not far from police headquarters and get something to eat while we waited. I gave Tahaki my cell phone number—he already had Mike's—and we drove to a food truck parked on the Kahului Beach Road.
"I wouldn't exactly call this a restaurant, Mike."
"You can get some of the best food on the island from these trucks."
Mike ordered a scampi and hot dog combination platter and a Coke. I was content, having eaten enough at Mala's funeral, and settled for what had become my favorite drink, pineapple iced tea.
"Glad you decided to stay a while," he said. "They'll want you to ID Barlow if he's the one who assaulted you."
"You heard the detective. They may not be able to find him today," I said.
"Let's give it an hour," he suggested. "If they haven't picked him up by then, we'll take off. They can hold him overnight based on you picking him out of the file, and you can come back tomorrow morning."
It sounded like a good suggestion, and we bided our time on a bench overlooking the harbor. Almost an hour had passed when Mike's cell phone sounded.
"Kane here . . . Great . . . We'll be there in ten minutes."
"Mr. Barlow is on his way," Mike told me as he closed the plastic foam container his food had come in and tossed it in a garbage can.
Christian Barlow sat alone in an interrogation room when we returned to headquarters. Detective Tahaki pulled aside a curtain, which allowed me to observe my attacker through a one-way mirror.
"That's him," I said.
"He put up a fight?" Mike asked.
"No," Tahaki said. "Mumbled something about his rights but other than that was a pussycat. He's a little tipsy. They found him sacked out in front of the TV at the apartment he rents."
"Will he have to have a lawyer present before you question him?" I asked.
"Negative," said the detective. "We're not charging him with anything, just asking him a few questions about what happened to you on the trip down from Haleakala. I won't mention that you're here, Mrs. Fletcher. Looking forward to seeing his expression when he finds out."
Mike Kane and I watched and listened as the detective went into the interrogation room. His arrival caused Barlow to jump up and ask why he was there.
"We've had an incident, Mr. Barlow, and want to see whether you can help us sort it out."
"What incident? I don't know nothing about any incident." His words were slurred.
"Sit down, Mr. Barlow, and take a look at these." Tahaki slid the folder containing the photographs taken by a witness to the event across the table.
Barlow eyed the folder suspiciously.
"Go on," he was urged. "Just some pictures."
Barlow opened the folder and took a photo from it.
"Ring any bells, Mr. Barlow?"
He shrugged and tossed the picture on the table. "This has got nothing to do with me."
"Look at the others."
Barlow did as he was told. After perusing the folder's contents, he sat back, a smug smile on his face. "These pictures mean nothing to me. Who's the woman? You drag me in to look at pictures of some old dame? Business must be slow around here."
Mike looked at me and raised his sizable eyebrows.
"I hope he gets life," I quipped, smiling.
"Where were you yesterday, Mr. Barlow?" Detective Tahaki asked.
"Hmmm, let's see. I was working, like I always do."
"Didn't take a day off and head up to Haleakala?"
"What, to see some dumb volcano? I got better things to do."
"You were working at Maui Ocean Star?"
"Right. That's right."
"Your boss, Mr. Reed, will testify to that?"
"Charlie? Yeah, he'll straighten you out."
"Would it surprise you that a dozen people who took the bike excursion to Haleakala will say that you were with them on the trip, and that the tour operator will testify to the same thing?"
The detective's words erased the smile from Barlow's lips. "I got nothing to say," he said. "You want to charge me with something, call my lawyer."
"You have a lawyer, Mr. Barlow?"
"No. You get one assigned to me."
Tahaki leaned closer to Barlow. "Mr. Barlow," he said, "we know that you tried to run the woman in those photos off the road on the way down from Haleakala. How would you like us to charge you with attempted murder?"
Barlow jumped up. "Attempted murder? What are you, crazy? All I did was—"
Mike Kane and I looked at each other.
"All you did was _what_ , Mr. Barlow?"
"I got nothing to say."
"Maybe you'd like to say _nothing_ to the woman in the photos."
The detective waved at the mirror.
Barlow's eyes widened before he twisted in his chair and turned away. "She's there?" he said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.
"Right next door. She's watching as we speak," Detective Tahaki said. "Mrs. Jessica Fletcher, the woman you tried to kill."
"Oh, no, I didn't try to kill nobody," Barlow said. "Hey, if she's there, she's alive, huh? I never tried to kill nobody."
"Then why did you try to run her off the road?" Tahaki asked.
"It was an accident. I—I lost control of my bike."
"It was _not_ an accident," I said to Mike. "He deliberately caused me to fall, and I almost went over the edge."
Tahaki echoed what I'd said to Mike. "Mrs. Fletcher says you pushed her. If her bike had skidded a few inches more, she would have tumbled to her death. That would have been murder. As it is, it's attempted murder."
Barlow's previous bravado melted. He looked toward the mirror through bloodshot, watery eyes, extended his hand, and raised his voice, "I'm sorry for your troubles, lady. Really I am."
"You don't have to shout. She can hear you just fine."
Barlow hung his head.
"Who told you to do it?" Tahaki asked.
"Nobody."
The detective let Barlow's answer hang in the air for several moments, saying nothing. Barlow coughed and added, "Charlie was upset, that's all."
"Good going, Henry," Mike muttered.
I raised my brows at him.
"If you let some silence follow a perp's answer, he usually adds more information. I taught him that technique." Mike winked at me.
"Is Charlie Reed your boss?" Tahaki asked.
Barlow solemnly nodded.
"Is that a yes? Speak up!"
"Yeah."
"How upset was he?"
"Pretty damned upset," was Barlow's reply. "Pardon my French," he said, glancing at the mirror.
"He was upset that Mrs. Fletcher was looking into how Mala Kapule died?"
"I don't know nothing about that," Barlow said quickly.
"Then what was he upset about?"
"You never know with Charlie. He's got a temper. Man, has he got a temper."
"Did Charlie Reed tell you to try to injure Mrs. Fletcher?"
Barlow shook his head. "No, nothing like that, only I knew he was upset with her, so I figured that maybe I'd help him out. He said that she—meaning that lady next door—that she should leave Maui and go home to wherever it is she lives." He looked at the mirror again and shrugged. "Sorry, ma'am."
"Go on, Mr. Barlow," Tahaki said.
"Charlie, he's always threatening to can me, so I figured that if I put a scare into the lady here he'd get off my case. All I meant to do was give her a little scare."
"You did a lot more than that, Mr. Barlow. You almost killed her."
He hung his head and slowly shook it. "It was a dumb thing I did, and I know it. Sometimes I do dumb things."
"Thinking that you could go up to Haleakala with a dozen people, run Mrs. Fletcher off the road, and walk away without anybody being able to identify you was one of those dumb things, Barlow," Tahaki said.
Silence filled the room.
"I really am sorry, ma'am," Barlow said softly; then he shouted at the mirror. "I swear I'm sorry, and I'm glad you're okay."
"I appreciate that, Mr. Barlow," I said, although I knew he couldn't hear me.
"So what's going to happen to me?"
"That's up to Mrs. Fletcher," Detective Tahaki said, standing. "I'll go ask her."
"I need to think about it," I said when Tahaki opened the door of the room where Mike and I had observed the questioning.
"Fair enough, Mrs. Fletcher. We'll hold Mr. Barlow while you decide whether or not to press charges."
"Good job, Henry," Mike said to his colleague, swatting him on the shoulder.
"Hey, brah, I learned from the best."
Mike and I left the room and went outside.
"He's a jerk," Mike said.
"And, as he admits, a dumb one," I said.
"What I don't get is how he knew you were going to be on that trip."
"I wondered about that myself. There was a jewelry and craft show in the lobby of the hotel when I made my reservation. There were a lot of people milling around, but now that I think about it, I remember a heavyset man who was hiding his face behind a newspaper."
"He must have been following you. So now what are you going to do about him?"
"If Charlie Reed had instructed him to accost me, I'd feel differently. I'd press charges against both of them. But you know what, Mike? I really don't see anything to be gained by bringing charges against Mr. Barlow. Hopefully this experience will be enough to make him think twice about what he does with his life."
"I wouldn't count on it, Jessica."
"Call it positive thinking," I said. "I need a good dose of positive thinking."
# Chapter Twenty
Maika'i No Au—I Am Fine
"Can I drop you anywhere?" Mike asked as we stood outside police headquarters.
I looked from the parking lot up the road to the hospital where I'd been treated, and where Bob Lowell was a patient following his shoulder surgery.
"As long as I'm here," I said, "I might as well stop in and see someone I've met since coming to Maui."
"Who's that?"
I explained having met the Lowells at the luau, and Bob's mishap while biking down from Haleakala. "He's a bit of a character," I said, "but a decent sort. I'm sure he'd enjoy a visit."
"Lani asked me to invite you to dinner. Are you available?"
"Oh, please thank her, Mike, but I think I'll have a bite at my hotel and make it an early night."
"Just give a yell if you need anything," Mike said.
"Count on it. Thanks for everything you've done."
"It's been my pleasure. Glad you were able to ID the guy. Now we just have to get you to press charges."
"I'll have to give that some serious thought."
"You do that." He wished me a restful evening, got in his car, and drove away.
Bob Lowell was in a private room on the top floor of the hospital. After receiving a visitor's pass from the lobby desk, I rode the elevator to his floor and checked room numbers, eventually coming across his wife as she came out of his room.
"Hello, Elaine," I said. "How's Bob?"
"Oh, Jessica! How good of you to stop by. He's doing fine."
"Just wanted to check up on the patient. After all, we share a common adventure, falling off our bikes."
"He'll be delighted to see you."
Lowell was sitting up in his hospital bed when I entered the room.
"Look who came to see you, Bob," Elaine said.
"Hey, what a great surprise," he said. "Came to check on whether I died?"
"No, I came to see how your shoulder was."
"Pretty darn good. Hurts, but the little green-and-yellow pills take the edge off the pain send me into la-la land. I kind of like it there."
I heard a soft "Oh, Bob" behind me.
"How are _your_ war wounds?" he asked.
"Healing nicely," I said, and took a bedside chair.
"Seen any of the others from the luau?" he asked.
"Yes, I have. You?"
"No. That professor and his wife and girlfriend were a strange couple of ducks, weren't they? Or should I say trio of ducks?"
"Girlfriend?"
"Yeah, the cute blonde. What was her name?"
"Grace," his wife supplied.
"She's Professor Luzon's graduate assistant," I added.
He laughed, then winced at a spasm of pain it generated. "They didn't fool me, Jessica. Graduate assistant my—oops, got to watch my language with two pretty ladies in the room."
"You said that they were strange," I said. "In what way?"
"Oh, I don't know, the way he and his wife didn't get along." He struggled to sit up straighter and became conspiratorial. "You know what I think?" He looked at the door as if he expected someone to be eavesdropping.
"What?"
"I think the professor and his cute blonde are having one torrid affair. Heck, that's why his wife is such a sourpuss. She knows what's going on. Why do you think she wasn't with her darling hubby when we had drinks?"
"You had drinks with Professor Luzon?"
"Sure did. Elaine, she hit the sack the minute we got back from the luau, but I wasn't ready to call it a night. I watched a little TV, then went into the hotel bar, and there they were, the professor and— What's her name?"
"Grace," Elaine said.
"Right, Grace. When I walked in, there they were, real cuddly-like. They didn't seem pleased to see me, but heck, I didn't let that bother me. I sat right down with them, offered to buy them a drink. He's the snooty type, the professor. Of course, I could see that his wife wasn't with him, so I asked about her, kind of give him a subtle reminder about his marriage vows."
"What did he say?" I asked, amused, thinking that nothing about Bob Lowell was subtle.
"He says she wasn't feeling well, the usual excuse. They didn't stay long once I arrived. After I had my drink, I went out back to the patio that overlooks where the luau took place. It was late."
"What time was it?" I asked.
"Had to be after one. The place was already cleaned up, tables and chairs hauled away. Anyway, I saw 'em standing under a palm tree." He became conspiratorial again. "They were playing kissy-face."
Elaine said, "You can't be sure of that."
"Of course I can. I may be getting older, but the eyes work just fine."
"How long will you have to be in the hospital?" I asked.
"He's getting out tomorrow," said Elaine. "We're flying home the day after."
"I'm sure you'll be glad to be leaving."
"Not me," Bob said. "I like it here, all those cute little hula-dancing girls."
"Oh, Bob," said Elaine.
It was my cue to leave.
I found a taxi waiting at the curb and got in, gave the driver the name of my hotel, and sat back and relaxed. We'd gone only a few miles when the smell of smoke wafted through the cab's open windows.
"There must be a fire," I said.
"Those are the sugarcane fields," the driver said. "They're starting to burn them."
"They burn the fields?" I said.
"Yes, ma'am, every two years. The stalks get too high and produce less sugar, so they burn the field to the ground and start a new crop. Usually the wind blows north to south and the smoke goes to where the sugar refinery workers live, but the wind has shifted today. We'll be out of it in a few minutes."
I closed my window and my mind wandered in many directions, including the conversation Mike and I had had with one refinery worker, Mr. Mohink, Koko's father. While I still hadn't had an opportunity to talk with the boy again, I couldn't shake the feeling that he knew something about Mala's death and was perhaps afraid to reveal what it was.
My instincts in such things have held me in pretty good stead over the years, although they've also led me astray at times. My frustration comes when I'm unable to confirm whether they are valid or not. Hopefully that wouldn't be the case when I packed my bags and headed home to Cabot Cove from Maui.
# Chapter Twenty-one
Uahi!—Smoke!
I'd just stepped out of the shower the next morning when the phone rang. I debated whether to wrap myself in a towel and answer or to let the hotel's automatic answering service take it. I would have opted for the latter except that the phone kept ringing. Whoever was calling evidently had asked the hotel operator to keep putting the call through and not to activate the answering system.
"Hello?" I said, struggling to keep the towel in place.
"Jessica, it's Mike Kane."
"Hello, Mike."
"Catching you at a bad time?"
"That's all right. What's up?"
"I'll keep this short. You know the Mohink kid, Kona or Koko or whatever his name is? He's missing."
"Oh, no! His family must be frantic."
"His father reported it to headquarters. A search party is being assembled. I've volunteered to coordinate it with the police."
"Where are you now?"
"I'm heading for the college campus. That's where the search effort is being staged: law enforcement, fire department, volunteers from the community. I won't have time to pick you up."
"Don't worry about me. I'll find a way to get there."
"No need for you to come. I'm sure the kid will show up soon."
"I'll see you at the college," I said. As he started to hang up, I added, "Oh, Mike, remember what his father told us, that his son likes to hide in the sugarcane fields."
"Gotcha, Jessica. See you later."
As I rushed through my morning ablutions to get ready to leave, I kept thinking about that little boy with the big glasses. I had been convinced that he knew something that would help us get to the bottom of Mala's death, and I had wanted to see if I could coax that information from him. But whether he could help resolve my questions was irrelevant now. We had to find him. We had to return him safely to his family. His well-being was my only concern.
I skipped breakfast and went directly to the lobby, where I asked that a taxi be called. The cab that pulled up less than five minutes later was driven by Mala's cousin Elijah.
He greeted me as I climbed into the backseat. "Hello, Mrs. Fletcher."
"Hello, Elijah. I'm going to the college campus."
"On a beautiful day like today, I thought you might be using a bicycle."
"I need to get there as quickly as possible."
"Sure thing. Is there a problem?"
"A boy is missing."
"Oh, yes. I heard about that. It came through our dispatcher, and it was on TV. They say they'll be running a picture of him soon."
"I know the child," I said. "My colleague Mike Kane is coordinating the search for him. Do you still have those granola bars, Elijah? I didn't have time for breakfast."
I chose one from the cardboard container he handed me and started fishing in my purse for money.
"Oh, no. My treat. Mala would be angry with me if I took money from her famous friend."
"Famous?"
"I heard. Everyone says you are a very important writer."
"Let's just say that I write and manage to make a living at it. But thank you."
As we approached the campus, wisps of smoke were visible in the sky just to its south.
"Is that a sugarcane field being burned?" I asked.
"Yes, ma'am. A necessary evil to be sure that the next crop will be a good one. No need to worry. The wind will carry the smoke away from the college."
My concerns weren't about being impacted by the smoke. I thought of Koko and his pleasure in exploring the cane fields, and I hoped that he hadn't decided to play hide-and-seek in the one that was going up in flames.
Surely Mike was right. Koko would be found quickly and returned to the safety of his father's arms. But that was my optimistic side talking. I remembered what Mohink had said about the boy's mother having died, and that his grandmother was helping to raise him. Judging from the father's age, his wife must have been a relatively young woman when she passed away. Had it happened recently enough that Koko missed his mother, or had she died when he was just an infant? Either way, the loss of a wife and mother was tragic, and having a child that young to bring up was no easy task for his father.
The campus was bustling with people as we pulled up in front of the administration building. I paid Elijah—I wouldn't hear of not paying the fare—and walked swiftly to where the center of the action seemed to be. I spotted Mike Kane issuing orders to small groups of people, some in uniform, most in civilian clothing, who broke away once they'd received their instructions. He'd been joined by Detective Henry Tahaki. Mike motioned for me to join them.
"Plenty of help to find the boy," I said.
"Nothing like a kid in jeopardy to bring out the best in people," Tahaki said.
We looked up at a helicopter passing overhead.
"Air One," Mike said. "We've got two of them involved in the search."
I stood silently by as Mike dispatched another group of people to where they should look for Koko. During a brief lull, I asked Mike, "When did he disappear?"
"The father reported it at five this morning. From what I'm told, he'd driven to work and his mother called to say the boy was gone. He thinks Koko might have been hiding in the backseat of his car—he found the child's glasses under a blanket—and ran off into the sugar field when Mohink went indoors to work."
"And so many people have already volunteered?"
"Word gets out fast. The media was immediately informed, along with every other means of communication."
"Is there any chance that he was abducted?" I asked, hoping for a negative answer.
"We have to keep that possibility in mind," Mike said.
"Where is his father?" I asked.
"Around here someplace."
The large cane field now ablaze was directly to the south of the campus. One of the helicopters hovered over it, the downdraft from its rotors sending the smoke in angry swirls that looked like a special effect from a computer-generated motion picture.
Mike was approached by two doctors who'd arrived in a mobile field hospital. They were accompanied by EMTs.
"Anything new, Detective?" one of the doctors asked.
"No, but we're pulling out all the stops," Mike said.
"We talked with the father," the second physician said. "He says the boy has asthma." He looked in the direction of the burning cane field and added, "Hope he doesn't get a nose full of that smoke."
The thought of Koko being trapped in that smoke sent a chill up my spine. But surely he wouldn't remain if he knew that a field had been set on fire. Unless he was disoriented or injured or . . .
Again my thoughts turned to the possibility that he had been forcibly taken from his home. I admit to having trouble believing that anyone would harm a child, but unfortunately there are people in the world who are capable of all manner of evil deeds.
Warren Mohink approached Mike and me, accompanied by a uniformed officer. Two reporters followed. I recognized Joe Luckey, the young man with whom I'd spoken at Cale Witherspoon's press conference. Mohink nodded at me and shook Mike's hand.
"Look. I can't just stand around doing nothing," Mohink said, his jaw working. He swiped a hand across his mouth. "Anything new?"
"Not yet," Mike replied. "We've established a search grid and have dispatched teams to those areas. We've already searched along the Wailea Coastal Walk and are double-checking again. Have you been in touch with the plant where you work?"
"Yeah," Mohink said.
"I assume your cane fields are among those being burned."
"Sure."
"Some of the search teams are covering the closest fields, but they'll have trouble because of the fires and smoke," Mike said. "We haven't sent a team yet to the one over there." He pointed south. "You mentioned that your son likes to play in the fields. Any special areas within them that he's been known to visit?"
He sighed and shook his head. "You think you know your kid and then this happens. I have no idea where he goes when he's playing in the fields. I just give him a yell and he usually comes running back. But sometimes—"
"Did anything happen recently that might have set him off, like an argument at home or a fight with a friend?"
Mohink shook his head. "I can't think of anything. We were here at the college yesterday. There was a puppet show put on by the horticulture school about plants and flowers, kind of a silly thing, but Koko really wanted to see it. He'd learned about it from a friend and begged me to take him. I even took the day off just so we could come here."
Mohink was interrupted by a volunteer who pulled Mike away to answer a question.
"A puppet show?" I said to Koko's father. "Did anything take place during the show that might have scared him? Children that age are so easily frightened by things they see or hear that don't even register with adults."
"Koko is—well, I think I told you before. He's got a vivid imagination. He freaked out right after the show."
"Freaked out? In what way?"
"What about the kid's mother?" Joe Luckey interjected.
Mohink glared at him. "His mother's dead," he growled.
"Sorry," Luckey said. "I didn't know."
"Has he run away before?" the other reporter asked.
I held up a hand and said, "Gentlemen, you'll have to excuse us. Mr. Mohink needs his privacy right now." I led him away from the reporters and spoke in a low voice so they couldn't overhear. "What do you think caused Koko to 'freak out,' as you say? What set him off?"
"Who the heck knows? He's such a crazy kid. One minute he was happy as a clam. He loved the puppet show and we were on our way to get him an ice cream cone. When we got near the stand, he looks at the people in line, grabs my leg, and starts whimpering."
"Was there someone in line he knew, that _you_ knew?"
He pressed his lips together in exasperation. "I wasn't looking. He said he wanted to go home, so that's what we did."
"What about after you'd returned home?" I asked.
Mohink ran one hand through his hair. I saw that his fingers were trembling. "He went in his room, and I did some work in my home office. He wouldn't talk much at dinner. He can be moody at times. He's a sensitive kid, _too_ sensitive for his own good. Afterward he went back into his room and stayed there playing with his toys until bedtime."
Mike rejoined us with a stack of photocopies of the picture Mohink had provided of Koko. "These are ready for distribution. The local TV channels are running them, and I have people driving around the area handing them out to stores."
"What can I do?" Mohink asked.
Mike handed him a pile of pictures. "Why don't you see if anybody here needs one?"
Mohink went off to help pass out the copies, with Joe Luckey and the other reporter following, pads and pens at the ready.
I informed Mike about the father-and-son outing the previous day.
"What would upset him so much that he'd go from being a happy little kid at a puppet show to grabbing his father's leg and begging to go home?"
"He must have seen someone or something that frightened him."
"I'd love to know who was in that ice cream line," Mike said.
"Maybe if—no, make that _when_ —he's found, we can try to get him to tell us."
The morning wore on as search parties came back to check in following the scouring of their coverage areas, only to be sent out again with maps of new areas to explore. The helicopters continued to circle overhead and an array of fire department vehicles and police cars were parked haphazardly throughout the staging area. Two trucks selling ice cream and pretzels had learned of the gathering crowd and arrived to feed those in need of snacks and drinks.
As I looked for familiar faces, I saw Cale Witherspoon cross the parking lot. With him were six other men, including Charlie Reed, owner of the _Maui Ocean Star_ , and Mala Kapule's former boyfriend Carson Nihipali. For someone who'd only recently arrived on Maui, I already knew a surprising number of people. I thought of the morning I'd met Mala and her comment that Maui was a small island and that everyone knew everyone else. I was starting to become a believer.
"Hello, Mr. Reed," I called out.
He stopped, peered at me as though trying to force recognition, smiled, and approached.
"You're here to help find the boy?" I asked.
"Of course," he said. "There's nothing worse than a youngster in danger."
"I certainly agree," I said. "Hello, Carson."
"Mrs. Fletcher," he said.
"Cale Witherspoon has brought some of his employees to aid in the search," Reed said. "He's also got some heavy equipment in case it's needed."
"That's good of you, Mr. Witherspoon," I said.
"It's the least I can do," he proclaimed. "Any word on the boy?"
"Not that I know of."
I wondered whether Witherspoon was aware of Mala's financial arrangement with his Oregon competitor, Douglas Fir Engineering. If I had to guess, I'd say it wasn't likely. Surely he would have pointed to it publicly, charging her with a conflict of interest. It was clear to me as I stood talking to the two men that they were closely aligned in their campaign to override the objections of Mala and her group. She'd been up against some heavy hitters.
Reed looked in the direction of the burning sugarcane field. "The wind's shifting. Looks like it could end up coming in this direction."
"Who's in charge?" Witherspoon demanded.
"Detective Kane," I said.
"Who's he?"
"A retired cop," Reed said dismissively. "Over there. The big guy at the mike."
Someone from the college had supplied a microphone and amplifier for Mike to use.
"Listen up," he said. "We need volunteers to work with the fire department to go into that burning cane field just to the south of us. About a third of it isn't on fire yet, but it'll be hot and smoky."
Carson Nihipali joined a group of men who'd gathered around Mike, including a half dozen uniformed firefighters. "What are we standing around for?" Carson yelled. "Let's go find the kid."
Witherspoon ordered the men he'd brought with him to join the others as they piled into vehicles and headed south.
"Why would the kid go into a burning field?" Witherspoon mused aloud.
"For some reason he enjoys playing games in the sugarcane fields," I answered. "At least according to his father."
"Seems like a dumb thing for a kid to do," said Witherspoon.
"He's just a little boy."
"Well, his father needs to teach him better."
There was nothing to gain by debating it with him or pointing out that children have their own reasons for doing what they do, so I walked to Mike, who was busy gathering volunteers and assigning them to search areas on the grid he'd drawn over a map of Maui. The search effort had become large and well organized, thanks to Mike and others, but it was dependent upon the theory that Koko ran away and hid somewhere on Maui.
But what if leaving hadn't been his choice? What if he'd been abducted by someone with nefarious motives? A child molester perhaps. Or a murderer trying to cover his tracks. If that were the case, he could be hidden away with little or no chance of the police, firefighters, and volunteers ever finding him— _at least soon enough_.
The crowd swelled with each passing minute. The police had done a good job of getting out the word about Koko's disappearance, and the outpouring of volunteer help was both inspiring and gratifying. There were families, teenagers, single men and women, waiting to be assigned search areas. A few people had brought their dogs on the chance that they might prove useful. The Maui PD had also dispatched a canine unit, which had been sent to the immediate area near the Mohink house after Koko's father had provided them with an item of his son's clothing for the dogs to sniff.
And there was Mala's auntie Edie, who'd arrived a few moments ago, leaning on the arms of two young cousins I'd met at Mala's house. I went to her.
"How are you?" I asked.
She smiled sweetly at me and said, "I am fine, but I heard about the little lost boy."
"Yes," I said, "everyone is so concerned."
"A child is sacred," she said. "If anyone has harmed him, that person will be punished."
"We're hoping that he just ran away and will be found," I said, not wanting to feed into the possibility that he'd been snatched.
One of the cousins brought the old woman a folding chair and Auntie Edie lowered her body onto the flimsy seat. She reached beneath her green-and-white shawl and held up a piece of round, charcoal-colored rock. I leaned closer to see what was on it. Within a white circle were two large, round white eyes. The older woman seemed transfixed as she stared at the lava rock, her lips moving as she silently spoke to an unseen person.
The cousin said to me, "She's invoking the spirit of Uli, Mrs. Fletcher, our mother of creation. She's asking Uli to provide her calming and peaceful energy to all those searching for the lost boy and to smooth out the problem of his disappearance and bring him home to his family."
I wanted to say something in response but didn't want to disturb Auntie Edie and her meditation. Whatever would help bring back Koko alive and well—whether I believed in this sacred Hawaiian goddess or not—was worth pursuing.
"Mrs. Fletcher. You seem to be everywhere."
I turned at the sound of my name to see Professor Abbott Luzon and his wife, Honi. The professor was dressed in a sport jacket and bow tie, his wife in a flowing yellow sundress, oversized sunglasses, and a tan hat with a large, floppy brim.
"Mr. and Mrs. Luzon," I said. "Are you part of the search party?"
"Abbott gave a lecture earlier this morning," Honi said, "or we would have been out here sooner. Any news about the missing boy?"
"Not yet, I'm afraid. But with all these resources looking for him, I'm sure he'll turn up."
"Children often do perplexing things," Luzon said.
"Spoken by a man who has no children," Honi said with an audible sigh. She addressed me. "They have no idea where he might have run away to?"
"Not at the moment," I said.
"Is it possible he might have been kidnapped?"
"Kidnapped?" Luzon said. "Who would do such a thing? Is his father rich?"
Honi ignored his question. "I understand you're investigating the circumstances surrounding Mala Kapule's death, Mrs. Fletcher. Did I hear that right? Anything new on that front?"
Her query startled me back to that issue. With all the focus on Koko Mohink's disappearance, I'd forgotten for the moment that Mala's death remained unresolved.
"I don't believe so," I said.
"Smells like the wind has shifted," Luzon commented.
I turned from them, peered south, and raised my nose to the air. Sure enough, the smoke was moving in our direction, and the odor of the burning cane was getting stronger. When I turned back, I spotted Grace Latimer, Luzon's graduate assistant and, according to Bob Lowell, his mistress. She stood apart from the crowd, arms crossed, taking in the spectacle unfolding on the campus. I thought she might join me and the Luzons, but instead she walked in the opposite direction and disappeared into the crowd.
Luzon turned his attention to Auntie Edie praying over the lava rock with its two white eyes staring up at her, the symbol of Uli, the Hawaiian goddess of creation and a dozen other mystical powers. I, too, watched her as her brow furrowed, her lips moving silently, her long fingers making signs over the rock. Luzon indicated his amusement with raised eyebrows and a thin smile.
"Do you know Mala's aunt?" I asked him.
"I introduced myself at the funeral," he said curtly. "What's she doing, praying to some god about the missing child?"
"Something like that," I said, not successful at masking my pique at his snide, condescending tone.
Honi had slipped away while I was speaking with her husband and was headed for the entrance to the horticulture building. As soon as she disappeared inside, Grace Latimer stepped to the professor's side.
"Hello, Grace," I said.
"Hello, Mrs. Fletcher." She said to Luzon, "Hadn't we better get to work on the proposal?"
"Yes, I suppose we should." He seemed suddenly aware that his wife was no longer with us. "Did you see where Honi went?" he asked me.
"I saw her go into that building," I said.
"We can get to it later," Luzon told Grace.
With that, he placed his hand on her elbow and guided her away from me.
The aroma of smoke, both sweet and acrid, continued to reach my nostrils, and I wondered whether the shift in the wind would cause the staging area to have to be relocated. I went to Mike to ask.
"I've just been discussing that possibility," he said, holding up his head like a weathervane twisting in the wind. "The direction of the smoke seems to be changing every few minutes." He leaned closer to me and added, "This is dragging on too long, Jessica. The chances of finding him become less likely with every passing minute."
His grim analysis caused my heart to sink. He was right, of course. I'd learned from the police briefings and seminars I'd attended over the years that unless a missing child was found quickly, certainly no longer than forty-eight hours from the time of the disappearance, the possibility of a happy ending decreased dramatically. It had been only seven hours since Koko's father had discovered him missing, but the minutes seemed like hours. _Where are you, Koko?_ I silently asked myself. _Where have you gone?_
Auntie Edie suddenly looked up from her stone and smiled. She nodded as she raised her eyes to the sky. Then she tucked the stone under her shawl and called for the young cousins to help her from her seat. As they made their way out of the staging area, the sound of honking horns could be heard in the distance.
I looked around for the source of the din. A convoy of three or four cars and trucks came roaring onto the campus led by Carson Nihipali's red pickup truck. As it came to an abrupt halt, Carson, shirtless, the sun reflecting off his burnished shoulders, the tattoo of Mala's face glistening, stood up in the truck's open bed. It took a second before everyone realized what he held in his arms.
A cheer went up. "It's the boy!" a chorus of voices said, joined by triumphant shouts and relieved laughter. "It's him! It's him!"
The boy was limp in Carson's arms, and the joy everyone felt was tempered by the fear that he was injured, or worse. One of the EMTs raced to the side of the truck, and Carson handed Koko down to him. The EMT ran with his precious bundle to the mobile field hospital, where the doctors took Koko from him and entered the vehicle.
Warren Mohink, alerted that his son had been found, pushed his way through the crowd that had surrounded the hospital on wheels and tried to climb inside.
"The doctors are with him right now, sir," the EMT said, using his arm to bar the door.
"But that's my son in there."
"We'll let you on in a moment. The doctors are examining him now," the EMT said. "They have to make sure there are no serious injuries. Please stay outside."
"No! I want to see my son," Mohink shouted. As he did, one of the doctors emerged from the trailer.
"I'm his father," Mohink said. "Is Koko all right?"
The doctor grinned. "Yes, he's all right," he said. "He's shaken up, and he's inhaled a lot of smoke from the cane field, but he'll be okay. Just give him, and us, some time. You can come in and see him in a few minutes."
Like everyone else, I was overcome with joy. Mike looked at me, grinned broadly, and gave me the Hawaiian victory sign, hand in the air, pinkie and thumb extended, and I returned it.
I walked up to Warren Mohink, who was pacing in front of the medical truck. "I am so happy for you."
"Silly kid," he said. "Had us all worried to death." He had tears in his eyes.
"What matters is that he's been found," I said.
A few minutes later Koko's father was allowed to enter the mobile unit, and ten minutes after that he stepped from it with his son in his arms. The sight of them was met with applause and whoops of relief. Koko squinted against the bright sunlight, his arms around his father's neck. Although his face had been washed, it was still smudged from the ashes in the field, and his hair was tangled. I took note that he was not wearing his thick glasses. But his father reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved the pair he had found in the backseat of his car. Koko raised his head and put them on. He looked at us and the shy smile that crossed his small face was contagious.
Mohink was on the receiving end of questions from the press on the scene, which now included television and radio reporters as well as Joe Luckey. I imagined that Koko's father would have preferred simply to get in his car with his son and go home, but he politely answered the questions. Mike and a young man brought the amplifier and microphone to where Mohink stood. "Maybe if you make a statement," Mike suggested, "they'll back off and let you leave. I know the crowd would love hearing from you."
Mohink thanked the onlookers for all they'd done to find his son. "His grandmother's going to want to hug each and every one of you." Koko, too, rose to the occasion. He scanned the crowd, a smile on his face, his eyes darting back and forth behind the thick lenses of his glasses, taking in every face, and giggling when his father said, "This little guy has given us all heartburn, but looks like he'll have to be welcomed home with a huge dish of his favorite ice cream, Kauai Pie, with fudge and vanilla crunch cake."
Mohink looked at Koko. "How's that sound, buddy?"
"Yummy, yummy." Koko ran his tongue over his lips, bringing gales of laughter from the crowd.
Mohink seemed to be enjoying the spotlight, too. Having generated a laugh, he proceeded to tell a few humorous anecdotes about his son. As he did, Professor Luzon reappeared, without Grace Latimer on his arm. In her place was his wife, Honi, in dark glasses beneath her floppy hat. She stood slightly beside her husband and peered around him, almost as though using him as a shield. I heard her say, "Come on, Abbott, let's get out of here."
Luzon turned to leave. As he did, a gust of wind took Honi's hat into the air. She squealed and reached to catch it. Koko, who had seemed happy basking in the crowd's adoration, suddenly let out a cry and hugged Mohink tight, his face buried in his father's neck.
"What's happening?" someone said.
Honi Luzon grabbed her husband's sleeve and pulled on it. But before they could leave, Koko looked up through his tears and, seeing her again, shut his eyes and cried. Mohink's confused expression mirrored everyone else's.
I tapped Mike Kane on the shoulder. "Someone should stop her from leaving," I said.
"Who?"
"Mrs. Luzon," I said, indicating the couple as they walked quickly in the direction of the horticulture building. "Koko recognized her and got frightened."
Detective Tahaki overheard what I'd said to Mike.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"You might want to talk to that blond lady over there holding her hat," Mike said.
"About what?"
"About why the boy is so scared of her."
"And about what she knows of Mala Kapule's death," I added.
# Chapter Twenty-two
Ha'Ina Mai Ka Puana—The Story Is Told
Warren Mohink sat on a wooden bench and held Koko in his arms. The boy had calmed down, although there was still a vestige of fear in his expression.
"Is he okay?" I asked.
"Yeah, I think so," Mohink said. "What upset you, son?"
Koko drew in deep breaths and struggled not to cry again.
"Was it that blond woman you saw?" I asked.
He averted his eyes as he nodded.
"What about her?" his father asked. When Koko didn't respond, he said to me, "You know, I've seen that woman before."
"You have?" Mike Kane asked.
"Yeah. She came to the house asking about the woman who fell off the cliff. She said she was a friend of hers and wondered what we knew about the accident."
Mike and I looked at each other.
"And now that I think of it, she could have been in the ice cream line after the puppet show. I wouldn't swear to it, but—"
"Koko, did you see that lady waiting in line for ice cream yesterday?" I asked.
My question elicited another nod from him.
"I think he's answered enough questions," Koko's father said. "He's been through an ordeal and I'd like to take him home."
"Sounds like a sensible idea," Mike said. "A squad car will take you back. The cops are going to want to interview you and the boy, so there still may be a lot of questions once he's had a chance to calm down."
"You mean once _I've_ had a chance to calm down," Mohink said, managing what passed for a smile.
Mike motioned for some uniformed officers to join us and suggested that they escort the father and son home. As they walked away, Mike said to me, "What's this business about Mrs. Luzon?"
"I'm not sure, Mike, except that Koko reacted in fear when he saw her. And his father says she might have been the one in the ice cream line who made him 'freak out,' as he described it."
Mike looked in the direction of the horticulture building, his face wrinkled in thought.
"Do you think that the kid saw her with Ms. Kapule the night she died?"
"I think it's possible, Mike. Look, I don't know anything for certain, but it's worth questioning her."
"Let's go," he said.
We entered the building. The corridor was empty. No Mr. and Mrs. Luzon, no Detective Tahaki.
"Let's try the professor's office," I suggested.
I knocked. When no one replied, I turned the knob anyway. Luzon was standing by the window. Honi sat in a chair as far away from her husband as the room's dimensions allowed. Detective Tahaki perched on the edge of Luzon's desk.
"Henry?" Mike said. "Okay if we come in?"
"Fine with me," Tahaki said. "We were just having a little chat."
Mike and I stepped through the door and closed it behind us.
"They have no right being here," Luzon said, facing us. "Get out!"
"I don't know about that," Tahaki said. "They're private investigators, investigating a murder." He winked at me.
"Private, my foot. Besides, what does that have to do with us?" Luzon asked, but he didn't insist that we leave.
I decided to be direct. "Mrs. Luzon, you saw the reaction of little Koko Mohink when he saw you in the crowd. He was pretty frightened. Apparently, he saw you yesterday and had the same reaction. In fact, I'm guessing it was his fear of you that spurred him to run away today."
"And I'm guessing that he's obviously a very disturbed child," she countered, her mouth set in a hard line, arms crossed defiantly on her chest. "I've never seen him before. And to think we were going to help the search parties find him. Now I'm glad we didn't volunteer. He's just a spoiled brat."
"Let me tell you something, Mrs. Fletcher," her husband put in. "If I were you, I'd mind my own business. Just because you're a famous writer doesn't give you the right to question us."
"Maybe you'd rather have _me_ ask the questions," Mike said.
"You?" Honi laughed. "I read the papers. You aren't even a policeman anymore. You're retired."
"But _I'm_ not," said Tahaki.
Honi sputtered something in response but fell silent.
"This is a violation of our rights," Luzon said. "Come on, Honi, we're leaving. They have no legal right to hold us here. We've come here voluntarily, but now it's time to go."
"Technically, you're correct," Detective Tahaki said. "But it might be to your benefit to hear what Mrs. Fletcher and Detective Kane, retired or not, have to say. If we don't get to ask our questions here, it'll be someplace else. Right now, based upon the boy's reaction, you're considered persons of interest in the death of Mala Kapule."
I added, embellishing the truth a little, "And based upon what the boy has _said_."
Luzon grabbed his briefcase from next to his desk and took steps toward the door.
"Oh, give it up, Abbott," his wife said. "Be a man for a change."
Luzon glared at her.
She laughed. "Look at you, the great professor of horticulture, and now the chairman of the department. Those credentials mean nothing to me."
With that she got to her feet and approached him. "You are a lying, slimy excuse for a human being. One mistress wasn't enough for you. Last year it was Janet. The year before that—what was her name?—oh, yes, Paula, lovely, empty-headed Paula. This year it's Grace. But one at a time isn't sufficient for you, is it, Abbott? There had to be Mala, too."
Luzon backed away and addressed us. "She's crazy," he said, extending his hands palms up. "She sees affairs behind every bush, doesn't trust me and never has." He spun around to face her again. "Keep your mouth shut, Honi, and come with me."
She slapped away his outstretched hand.
"You want the truth?" Honi said. "I'll give you the truth. Remember the night of the luau, Mrs. Fletcher? When it was over, my husband said he had to go back to his office to work, some lie about a last-minute project that had to get done. He assumed I was going home, but something didn't smell right to me. I knew he'd been having an affair with his precious Grace and figured he'd be seeing her. I pretended to leave, but I stuck around. You didn't know that, Abbott, did you? Sure enough, he didn't head for the college. He goes strolling up the Wailea Walk like it's noon instead of midnight. I followed you, you know. Oh, yes, I was right there thirty feet behind you. I was ready to give you and Grace a piece of my mind. Imagine my surprise; it wasn't Grace at all. It was your supposed rival for the chairmanship. Was that how you got her to agree not to oppose you? I stayed a distance away, but not so far that I couldn't see you put your arm around her. It was disgusting."
"Never happened," Luzon said.
"You must have been very angry," Mike said.
Honi snorted. "A gross understatement," she said, reminding me of Grace's response when I'd commented on how expensive it must be to live on Maui. "Wouldn't you be angry if you found your wife in a similar situation?"
Mike ignored the question and said, "You confronted them?"
A crooked grin crossed Honi's face. "Oh, I intended to, but—"
We waited for her to finish.
"But what?" I asked.
"Tell them, Abbott," his wife said. "Tell them what you did."
"Shut up, Honi!"
"I will not shut up," she snapped. "Tell them what happened—or I will!"
Luzon said nothing. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, and he visibly shook.
"Let's cut to the chase," Detective Tahaki said. "Were one of you, or both, present when Ms. Kapule fell to her death?"
Honi had resumed her chair. "Yes," she said, raising her chin as if daring her husband to contradict her. "Wouldn't you say so, Abbott?"
"No! Honi, you're only making it worse."
"And where were you exactly, Mrs. Luzon?" Mike asked.
Honi waved her arms. "Near enough."
"Near enough for what?"
"To see his latest lover."
"You're crazy, Honi. You couldn't see anything. It was dark."
"There was a moon. I could see just fine."
"You're making it up."
Mike said, "What say we take a little trip to find out what Mrs. Luzon could or could not see?"
"Trip?" Luzon said. "To where?"
"Back to where the incident took place. Mrs. Luzon can walk us through what happened that night."
"Absolutely not," said Luzon.
"I think that's a good idea," Honi said, standing again. "I'm ready."
"And I'm leaving," Luzon said.
"Not so fast," Tahaki said. "You and your wife have information about the death of Mala Kapule. It's an open case, and I have the authority to take you into custody for questioning as material witnesses. It'd be a lot easier for both of you if you cooperate with what Detective Kane has suggested—go to the scene and reconstruct what happened based upon your observations."
We all watched Luzon as he struggled with a reply.
"Your choice," Tahaki told him. "It's either that or we can continue this conversation at headquarters."
Tahaki didn't wait for a response. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called for two uniformed officers and an SUV. The call completed, he opened the office door and said, "Time to go."
In Wailea, the five of us trooped across the field where the luau had taken place to reach the coastal trail. I remembered that day clearly, stopping by Mala's class, meeting her and having coffee. She had impressed me with her knowledge and poise and her dedication to follow what she believed was the honorable course, to defend the sacred site of Haleakala from further development. Was I so far off the mark in my assessment of her? Had she compromised her values for the sake of money? Had she been having an affair with her challenger for the chairmanship? And could Grace possibly have been right? If I had found her that night, would Mala still be alive?
Mike and I led the way, with the Luzons next and Detective Tahaki behind them. The uniformed police brought up the rear of our little expedition.
When we reached the spot where Mala had fallen, I looked in the direction of the Mohink house for a sign of Warren and Koko, but saw nothing.
Although Tahaki was the officer in charge and had arranged for us to be there, Mike took the helm.
"Okay, Mrs. Luzon," he said, "here we are. You said that you saw your husband in an embrace with Ms. Kapule. Exactly where were they?"
"Where you're standing," Honi replied. "No, a few feet in that direction, closer to the edge."
Mike changed his position. "Here?"
"Yes, there," Honi confirmed.
"And you?" Mike asked. "Where were you?"
Honi looked back along the path. "Over there," she said, pointing to where the trail curved around a wall thirty feet away. The opposite side of the path was lined with bushes.
"Please show Mrs. Fletcher exactly where you were standing." Mike suggested. He turned to me and said, "We need to know what she could see from that vantage point."
Honi and I walked back along the path to the place where she said she'd hidden. She chuckled. "This is like an episode of _Law and Order_ , reenacting the crime."
"Do you find it amusing?" I asked.
"Very."
Mike ordered Luzon to stand just off the path.
By now the professor had adopted a cynical, almost amused posture at what was going on. "Of course, sir," he said, emphasizing "sir."
From where Honi and I stood, her husband was partially visible, our view marred by the branch of a tree that arched over the path.
"Now, Mrs. Luzon," Mike said, "tell us what you observed."
Mike and Tahaki stood on the path, their attention moving from one spouse to the other. Luzon remained on the soft ground, staring off at the horizon. The water below was choppy and a brisk breeze provided relief from the hot sun. A gust of wind pressed the overhanging branch down, obscuring my view of the men.
Honi looked at me as though wanting permission to speak.
"Are you certain of what you saw?" I asked.
"I saw—I saw Abbott push Mala over the edge," she said in a surprisingly strong voice heard by everyone.
Luzon guffawed. "See?" he said, "I told you she was crazy. Why would I do that?"
"Because you were having an affair with her," Honi said.
"I never had an affair with her."
"Well, not for lack of trying, right, Abbott?"
I interrupted their bickering. "Are you saying that your wife is a liar?"
"That's right. A bald-faced liar. I can't even see you now, Honi. That tree branch is in the way."
"But I was able to see you," his wife shouted. "You weren't looking, and I moved closer." She demonstrated by stepping into the path and hugging the wall, edging closer to the men.
I walked past her, taking my place next to the detectives.
Luzon turned to face us, but as the three of us stared at him, the cumulative effect seemed to strip him of his bravado. He put his hands in his pockets and slowly shook his head. "Okay," he said, "Mala fell while we were here together. But I didn't push her. We had an argument."
"An argument over what?" I asked.
"What she was trying to do. She threatened to report my affair with a student."
"Grace?" I asked.
Luzon nodded.
"Grace!" Honi said under her breath.
Luzon ignored her. "Mala said she was going to go to the administration," he continued. "They'd already told me that I had the post. I knew they were ready to make the public announcement. She wanted to derail my promotion, wanted to be chair of the department herself. Mala had a mean streak in her; believe me. She wasn't all sweetness and light. I tried to reason with her, but she just laughed away anything I said. She wanted me to take myself out of the running for the chairmanship and recommend her instead. I refused. That's when she—well, that's when she took a few steps back and the edge gave way and she lost her balance. I saw her arms fly up in the air. She shouted something, but there were these birds. I couldn't hear what she said."
"What happened next?"
"She grabbed for a bush, but the branch broke. I'm ashamed to say I didn't reach out to try to save her. I was afraid I'd go over the edge, too. Afterward, I was in shock. She was gone. It was an accident, pure and simple. I never touched her, never pushed her. I swear it."
I was certain that my thoughts mirrored what Mike and Tahaki were thinking, that there was no evidence to prove that Luzon had been instrumental in Mala's death, that he'd ever laid a hand on her. It was his word against his wife's. The defense would paint Honi as a bitter, angry woman whose husband had cheated on her multiple times and who was out for revenge. They would both go free.
"What did you do after she fell?" I asked.
"I panicked," he said. "I left."
"You didn't try to help her?"
"I didn't think anyone could survive that fall."
"If you were innocent, why didn't you call the police?"
"I wasn't thinking clearly. I just wanted to get away."
"You didn't see your wife?"
"No, I never saw her."
"I hid behind the bush until he was gone," Honi said.
"You never tried to determine if Mala was still alive?" I asked.
"No," Luzon said.
"I did," Honi called out.
Mike turned to her. "What did you do, Mrs. Luzon?"
She slowly approached.
"I came here where she had gone over the edge and pulled myself onto this rock." She climbed up to the spot where Mike had looked down the cliff the morning after Mala had been found. "I saw her body on the rocks below."
"How long did you stay?"
"I don't know, a few minutes, maybe longer. I looked around to see whether anyone else had witnessed what I'd seen. It was dark. No one could see anything. That's when I left. I went home and was in bed when Abbott arrived an hour later." She hopped down from the rock and dusted her hands.
"Where had you gone?" Mike asked Luzon.
"I didn't want to go home yet. I went to the bar to get a drink."
_And met up with Grace,_ I thought, remembering Bob Lowell's story about seeing them together. "Mrs. Luzon, did you ever consider going to the police to report what you'd seen?" I asked.
"I considered it," she said, "but I decided not to. Frankly, I wasn't sorry that Mala had died, and I wasn't about to send my husband, as despicable as he is, to prison while I ended up struggling for the rest of my life."
"Did your husband know that you'd witnessed what you claim happened?" I asked.
"' _Claim_ happened'? Are you suggesting that I'm lying?"
"Did he know?" I repeated.
"He knew—because I told him. He denied having pushed her, of course, but I thought perhaps it would be useful to hold it over his head. I had the ridiculous notion that it would straighten him out, that it would curb his infidelity. It didn't, of course. Ask Grace Latimer." She snarled as she said Grace's name.
"Be careful, Honi," Luzon said.
"Why should she be careful, Professor?" I asked. "Is it because this has just been an elaborate story the two of you concocted to protect each other, to cover up a murder?" I turned toward Honi. " _You_ pushed Mala over the edge, didn't you, Mrs. Luzon? You thought Abbott and Mala were having an affair, but they weren't. Mala had higher standards than to have an affair with your husband."
"Higher standards! You think that superannuated surfer dude she hung around with was an example of higher standards?" Luzon said.
"I wondered where Grace learned that term. That's what she called Mala's friend."
"Grace again!" Honi muttered. She shook her head. "Can't believe it. It's never enough."
"Honi, be quiet. Our lawyer will take it from here," Luzon said angrily. "You think you're so smart, Mrs. Fletcher, but it's all speculation. You have no proof."
"Ah, but we do, Professor. There was someone who saw Honi push Mala over the cliff. A little boy who lives over there." I pointed to Koko's house. "And, Honi, you knew that there was a witness. In fact, you came to the house to find him, but when Koko saw you, he hid in his room, crying, and refused to come out. And when he saw you again yesterday, he was so scared, he was afraid to stay home, and hid in his father's car."
"I can't believe it's still Grace," Honi ground out.
"Honi, that's enough." Her husband put out an arm toward her. "We'll be fine."
Honi turned to her husband and let out what could only be described as a growl. "Fine! You think that we can be fine as long as Grace is still around? I should have killed her, too. This is for Grace," she shouted as she shoved her husband in the chest. Luzon stumbled backward, arms reaching out to grab something, anything. Tahaki, Mike, and I rushed forward, but before we could reach him the soft earth beneath Luzon's feet gave way. He bellowed as he fell, tumbling down headfirst, sending a flock of francolins screeching into the brilliant blue Hawaiian sky.
# Chapter Twenty-three
Aloha—Hawaiian Greeting That Can Mean "Good-bye"
Did Abbott Luzon's serial infidelities drive his wife to kill Mala Kapule in the mistaken belief that she was yet another of his lovers? He must have recognized some culpability on his part when he agreed to help Honi cover up her actions by accusing each other of the crime.
And was the professor guilty of deliberately sabotaging his colleague's chances for the chairmanship as Dale had suggested? Was that what Mala accused him of the night she died? If so, he paid dearly for his underhanded actions. And if he hadn't tried to damage Mala's reputation—well, he suffered a severe penalty for his adulterous conduct, compliments of the heels of Honi's hands.
I was convinced early on that if Mala had been killed by someone, it had its genesis in the controversy over the building of the solar telescope on Haleakala, that magnificent landscape that plays such an important role in Maui's culture and belief system. As it turned out, more basic human motives were involved.
I must admit that certain aspects of Mala's life tainted my perception of this young woman whom I had admired so much both before and after arriving on Maui. But was I allowing circumstantial evidence to influence me? Dale had thought she and the professor were having an affair, but he'd seen only one side of their correspondence. According to Luzon, Mala was using his unfaithfulness to blackmail him in order to secure the post of chair of the department for herself. We'll never know the truth because neither party is alive.
And was the money Mala received from the Oregon construction company used to delay the lucrative Haleakala contract only for the purpose of allowing Douglas Fir Engineering to push Cale Witherspoon's firm out of the way? Had her efforts to throw roadblocks in Witherspoon's way been to benefit herself and not the Hawaiian people who opposed the project? And was Christian Barlow telling the truth when he said it was his idea alone to drive me off the side of the road leading down from Haleakala? I hoped so, because I'd decided not to press charges against him.
Unanswered questions leave me frustrated. I love a clean resolution, which certainly wasn't the case with the cast of characters surrounding Mala Kapule.
There was, of course, one certainty, and that was that Honi Luzon had killed Mala and had pushed her husband to his death, both times in front of witnesses, even if the witness to the first murder was too young to testify. It was hard to feel sorry for Honi. She was such an unpleasant woman. But had she always been so? Her husband had subjected her to years of mental abuse thanks to his unchecked libido. Never having experienced such a situation, I could only speculate about how deleterious an effect it would have on her—have on any woman, for that matter.
"Will she be charged with murder?" I asked Mike Kane after dinner at his house that evening.
His wife, Lani, had insisted that I join them, and I was happy to oblige. After the upsetting events of the day, it was comforting to be with a normal functioning family. I arrived with several of my books to inscribe to Mike and Lani, and found what I hoped was the perfect gift for her, a small mounted photograph of sunrise over Haleakala by the same photographer whose work I had bought for myself. Lani was delighted, or at least she said she was.
"You know, I've never been up there at sunrise," she said. "Mike, now that you're retired, you'll have to take me."
"I will as long as you promise not to ride down on a bicycle."
We all laughed.
"My guess is that Honi will go away for a long time," Mike said when we got around to the events of the day. "Her defense lawyers might plead temporary insanity, you know, having been pushed over the edge by him." Mike smiled. "'Pushed over the edge.' Sounds like I'm making a joke. I'm not."
"I didn't take it that way," I said, "but insanity pleas seldom succeed, and how could she claim _temporary_ insanity twice?"
"She snapped; that's for sure. Maybe a jury will see it that way and cut her some slack."
Before Mike drove me to my hotel, Lani draped a __ lei around my neck that she'd made just for me. "So you'll always remember us and Maui."
"I don't see how I can forget."
• • •
I would see Mike Kane one more time before returning to Cabot Cove. We were scheduled on Saturday to teach one more class to young Maui police officers. After a wonderful night's sleep, I arrived at the college early and sat outside the horticulture building basking in the sunshine and pristine air and watching the parade of people passing by. One of them was Grace Latimer.
"Good morning, Grace," I said.
She stopped, turned, and said, "Oh, hello, Mrs. Fletcher. I didn't expect to see you again."
"It'll be the last time," I said. "I'm teaching a final class this morning with Detective Kane."
She said nothing.
"Grace," I said, "I'm sorry for what's happened to Mala and Professor Luzon. I know that you were close to him and—"
A torrent of tears interrupted what I was saying.
She embarrassedly looked around as she pulled tissues from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.
"We were in love," she said.
"You and Professor Luzon?"
"Yes. He was going to marry me once he divorced his wife, and we were going to start a company together. I can't believe that he's gone, that that dreadful woman he was married to pushed him off a cliff. Mala, too. She'd threatened him with exposing our relationship so that she could become chair of the department."
"That's what Professor Luzon told you," I said.
"Yes. He told me everything. There were no secrets between us."
"May I offer you a piece of advice?" I said.
She looked quizzically at me.
"First," I said, "I wouldn't believe everything Professor Luzon claimed. But more important, Grace, you're an intelligent, attractive young woman with a fine future ahead of you. Becoming involved with a married man is never a smart thing and almost always leads to heartbreak. I know that his death represents a loss for you, but it also frees you to find a better path in your life."
What had been a pathetically sad, tearstained face morphed into an angry expression.
"You don't understand," she said. "You're too old to feel the way Abbott made me feel, that I was the most important person in his life, his first true love."
"Perhaps you're right," I said as Mike Kane came around the corner and waved as he approached. "I wish you everything good in your life, Grace."
She walked away as Mike arrived.
"The professor's graduate assistant?" he said.
"Yes," I said. "She's very young, and very foolish." I brightened. "Ready to impart more wisdom to a class of future Mike Kanes?"
• • •
I never had a chance to touch base again with the people I'd met while on Maui—Charlie Reed; Elijah Kapule; Auntie Edie; Cale Witherspoon; Carson Nihipali; Dale Mossman; and especially Koko, the precious little boy who'd run away, afraid of the lady he'd seen on the cliff where someone had died. I just hoped that he would eventually put it out of his young mind. How successful he would be depended a great deal on his father.
I flew home the next day, stopping in Boston and transferring to a small plane flown by Jed Richardson, our local airport manager, who delivered me to Cabot Cove. Seth Hazlitt was waiting.
_"Aloha,"_ I said as I settled into the passenger seat of Seth's car.
"Speaking Hawaiian now, I see," he said.
"That's about the extent of my knowledge." I said, laughing.
"Good trip?"
"Mostly."
"Shame what happened to Mala Kapule. Barrett would be devastated."
"Yes, it was a tragedy, Seth, but not the only one."
"Oh?"
"It's a long story, my friend. Give me a few days at home and I'll be happy to tell you the whole unfortunate tale."
"And I'll look forward to hearing it, Jessica. Do you need to stop at the market on your way home?"
"Only if they have pineapple iced tea, which I have a hunch they may not. No, Seth, I'm ready to go home."
• • •
I kept in touch with Mike Kane and his family. He told me that the telescope project was going forward, although there was an ongoing battle between competing construction companies. It certainly wasn't my battle, although I admit to rooting against the arrogant Cale Witherspoon.
I'd given Bob and Elaine Lowell my e-mail address and received what seemed like a daily message from the ebullient Bob. But then one arrived from his wife. Bob had been jitterbugging enthusiastically with a young woman at a party when he collapsed, the victim of a massive heart attack. The news saddened me. Although he wasn't the sort of fellow I aspired to spend lots of time with, he was a good and decent man who loved life and all that it offered. I sent my condolences.
The photograph I purchased of the sea turtle, or _honu_ , is proudly displayed in my home office, reminding me of the Pacific Ocean and the beautiful island of Maui. I hoped that the telescope being erected on Haleakala wouldn't in any way spoil its remarkable beauty and meaning to the people of Hawaii.
For me, the trip to Maui had been eye-opening, to say the least. I wished it had gone as planned: teaching courses to young Maui police recruits and using my downtime to relax and explore the island, its rich customs, and its loving people. But although I may have missed some of its more typical attractions, I think I experienced much more than the average tourist. And whenever I worry that things are not going quite right, I pick up my lava stone inscribed with a circle and two dots, and I imagine that the goddess Uli is watching out for me.
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{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaBook"
}
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Saints to start Hill at QB, per source; Brees to IR
62dMike Triplett
1hShelley Smith
Source: Taysom Hill, not Jameis Winston, to start at QB for New Orleans Saints; Drew Brees goes on IR
Mike TriplettESPN Staff Writer
Covered Saints for eight years at New Orleans Times-Picayune
Previously covered LSU football, San Francisco 49ers
Iowa native and University of Iowa graduate
METAIRIE, La. -- The New Orleans Saints will start Taysom Hill at quarterback ahead of Jameis Winston on Sunday against the Atlanta Falcons, a source told ESPN's Adam Schefter.
Meanwhile, they placed starter Drew Brees on injured reserve Friday afternoon -- meaning he must miss at least three games while recovering from cracked ribs and a punctured lung.
Hill took all the starter reps at practice this week, according to the source. A source also told ESPN's Dianna Russini that Winston will not be part of any offensive packages unless needed because of injury.
The move comes as a mild surprise, because Winston is more experienced and replaced Brees during the second half of last Sunday's 27-13 win over the San Francisco 49ers.
No timetable has been set for Brees' return. This is the first time he has been placed on IR, and this will be just the seventh game he has missed due to injury in his 20-year career.
Saints turning to QB Taysom Hill could be Sean Payton's boldest move yet
Saints' surging defense can take load off Taysom Hill
Source: Second opinions confirm Brees' injuries
The Saints also are signing veteran quarterback Trevor Siemian to their active roster to add depth at the position, according to Siemian's agent, Mike McCartney.
The Saints' decision to start Hill is a reminder that coach Sean Payton and team executives have always maintained that Hill could be a starting NFL quarterback. They backed up that belief by signing him to a two-year, $21 million contract extension as a restricted free agent this offseason.
Hill, who was a dual-threat quarterback at BYU from 2012 to 2016, has carved out a unique role with the Saints over the past four seasons as a read-option QB/RB/WR/TE/FB/special-teams specialist.
He has completed just 11 of 20 passes in his career, including the playoffs, for a total of 255 yards with no touchdowns and one interception. Hill has not thrown a touchdown pass since Nov. 26, 2016, in his final season at BYU.
However, the fast and physical 6-foot-2, 221-pounder has run the ball 105 times for 596 yards (5.7 yards per carry) with four touchdowns.
Hill played seven snaps at quarterback in the second half of last Sunday's win, running the ball on five of them for 31 yards. He lost a fumble on his final carry and was sacked once.
He has lost two fumbles this season and three in his career.
Payton declined to announce the Saints' starting quarterback after Friday's practice, despite being asked about the Hill reports.
"Someone has been named the starter, but we haven't announced it. Is that all right?" Payton said. "We'll do what's best relative to how we play the quarterbacks and the situations and what we're trying to accomplish to win this game."
The Saints did not make either quarterback available for media interviews this week.
Mobile Quarterback
Taysom Hill has lined up all over on offense in his career, spending time at QB, WR, TE and RB. Here's a look at his career offensive snaps by position.
Quarterback 142
Wide receiver 222
Tight end 180
Running back 54
-- ESPN Stats & Information
It's unclear whether the Saints are committed to using Hill throughout Brees' injury absence or whether they plan to evaluate both of their backup quarterbacks at some point. But this time period will serve as a valuable evaluation for their future as well, because Brees, 41, could retire after this season.
The Saints signed Winston to a one-year deal worth $1.1 million plus incentives this offseason. Payton and teammates have credited Winston for his attitude, leadership and development throughout the season. He completed 6 of 10 passes for 63 yards last week with no touchdowns or turnovers, though he did throw one pass that was nearly intercepted.
Hill has become one of the league's most fascinating and polarizing players, since his ability to function as an NFL quarterback is still so unproven. Hill is already 30 years old; he went on a two-year church mission after high school and spent five years in college. He originally signed with the Green Bay Packers as an unrestricted free agent in 2017 before the Saints claimed him on waivers because Payton was so impressed by his preseason performance.
Hill finished his BYU career with 6,929 passing yards, 43 touchdown passes, 2,815 rushing yards and 32 rushing touchdowns -- despite suffering four season-ending injuries (knee in 2012, broken leg in 2014, torn ligaments in his foot in 2015, hyperextended elbow in 2016).
Hill initially broke out with the Saints in 2017 as a special-teams coverage ace, but his offensive role has expanded each year since then. His best performance came in January's playoff loss to the Minnesota Vikings, when he completed one pass for 50 yards, ran the ball four times for 50 yards and caught two passes for 25 yards and a touchdown.
This season, Hill is 4-of-5 passing for 86 yards with no touchdowns or interceptions. He has 34 carries for 186 yards and a touchdown and six catches for 74 yards and a touchdown.
Siemian, 28, has spent this season on the Tennessee Titans' practice squad after signing with the Titans in August. He went 13-11 as a starter with the Denver Broncos from 2016-2017 after being drafted in the seventh round in 2015. He spent the past two years as a backup with the Minnesota Vikings and New York Jets.
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{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaCommonCrawl"
}
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require 'spec_helper'
module MCollective
describe Aggregate do
let(:ddl) do
{
:aggregate => [{:function => :func, :args=>[:foo, {:format => "%s"}]}],
:action => "test_action",
:output => {:foo => nil, :bar => nil}
}
end
describe '#create_functions' do
let(:function){mock}
it "should load all the functions with a format if defined" do
function.expects(:new).with(:foo, {}, "%s", 'test_action')
Aggregate.any_instance.expects(:contains_output?).returns(true)
Aggregate.any_instance.expects(:load_function).once.returns(function)
Aggregate.new(ddl)
end
it "should load all the functions without a format if it isn't defined" do
function.expects(:new).with(:foo, {}, nil, 'test_action')
Aggregate.any_instance.expects(:load_function).once.returns(function)
ddl[:aggregate].first[:args][1][:format] = nil
Aggregate.new(ddl)
end
it "should not summarize functions where the output is not specified in the ddl" do
invalid_ddl = { :aggregate => [{:function => :func, :args=>[:foo], :format => "%s"}, {:function => :func, :args=>[:fail], :format => "%s"}],
:action => "test_action",
:output => {:foo => nil, :bar => nil}}
function.stubs(:new).returns("function")
Aggregate.any_instance.stubs(:load_function).returns(function)
Log.expects(:error)
aggregate = Aggregate.new(invalid_ddl)
aggregate.functions.should == ["function"]
aggregate.failed.should == [{:type=>:create, :name=>:fail}]
end
it "should pass additional arguments if specified in the ddl" do
function.expects(:new).with(:foo, {:extra => "extra"}, "%s", 'test_action')
Aggregate.any_instance.expects(:load_function).once.returns(function)
ddl[:aggregate].first[:args][1][:extra] = "extra"
Aggregate.new(ddl)
end
it "should not summarize functions if the startup hook raises an exception" do
function.stubs(:new).raises("rspec")
Aggregate.any_instance.expects(:load_function).returns(function)
Log.expects(:error)
aggregate = Aggregate.new(ddl)
aggregate.failed.should == [{:type=>:startup, :name =>:foo }]
end
end
describe '#contains_ouput?' do
before :all do
Aggregate.any_instance.stubs(:create_functions)
@aggregate = Aggregate.new(ddl)
end
it "should return false if the ddl output does not include the function's input" do
result = @aggregate.contains_output?(:baz)
result.should == false
end
it "should return true if the ddl output includes the function's input" do
result = @aggregate.contains_output?(:foo)
result.should == true
end
end
describe '#call_functions' do
let(:aggregate){ Aggregate.new(ddl)}
let(:result){ RPC::Result.new("rspec", "rspec", :sender => "rspec", :statuscode => 0, :statusmsg => "rspec", :data => {:test => :result})}
let(:function) {mock}
before :each do
Aggregate.any_instance.stubs(:create_functions)
end
it "should call all of the functions" do
function.expects(:process_result).with(:result, result).once
function.expects(:output_name).returns(:test)
aggregate.functions = [function]
aggregate.call_functions(result)
end
it "should not fail if 'process_result' method raises an exception" do
aggregate.functions = [function]
function.stubs(:output_name).returns(:test)
function.stubs(:process_result).raises("Failed")
Log.expects(:error)
aggregate.call_functions(result)
aggregate.failed.should == [:name => :test, :type => :process_result]
end
it "should not fail if 'summarize' method raises en exception" do
function.stubs(:summarize).raises("Failed")
function.stubs(:output_name).returns("rspec")
aggregate.functions = [function]
Log.expects(:error)
result = aggregate.summarize
end
end
describe '#summarize' do
it "should return the ordered function results" do
Aggregate.any_instance.stubs(:create_functions)
aggregate = Aggregate.new(ddl)
func1 = mock
func1.expects(:summarize).returns(func1)
func1.stubs(:result).returns(:output => 5)
func2 = mock
func2.expects(:summarize).returns(func2)
func2.stubs(:result).returns(:output => 2)
aggregate.functions = [func1, func2]
result = aggregate.summarize
result.should == [func2, func1]
end
it "should not summarise data that raises an exception" do
Aggregate.any_instance.stubs(:create_functions)
aggregate = Aggregate.new(ddl)
func = mock
func.stubs(:summarize).raises("rspec")
func.stubs(:output_name).returns("rspec")
aggregate.functions = [func]
Log.expects(:error)
aggregate.summarize
aggregate.failed.should == [{:name => "rspec", :type => :summarize}]
end
end
describe '#load_function' do
before :all do
Aggregate.any_instance.stubs(:create_functions)
@aggregate = Aggregate.new(ddl)
end
it "should return a class object if it can be loaded" do
PluginManager.expects(:loadclass).with("MCollective::Aggregate::Test")
Aggregate.expects(:const_get).with("Test")
function = @aggregate.load_function("test")
end
it "should raise an exception if the class object cannot be loaded" do
PluginManager.expects(:loadclass).with("MCollective::Aggregate::Test")
expect {
function = @aggregate.load_function("test")
}.to raise_error("Aggregate function file 'test.rb' cannot be loaded")
end
end
end
end
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{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
}
| 5,727
|
require 'ansible/ruby/modules/base'
module Ansible
module Ruby
module Modules
# Manage End Point (EP) retention protocol policies on Cisco ACI fabrics.
class Aci_tenant_ep_retention_policy < Base
# @return [String, nil] The name of an existing tenant.
attribute :tenant
validates :tenant, type: String
# @return [String, nil] The name of the end point retention policy.
attribute :epr_policy
validates :epr_policy, type: String
# @return [Integer, nil] Bounce entry aging interval in seconds.,Accepted values range between C(150) and C(65535); 0 is used for infinite.,The APIC defaults to C(630) when unset during creation.
attribute :bounce_age
validates :bounce_age, type: Integer
# @return [:coop, :flood, nil] Determines if the bounce entries are installed by RARP Flood or COOP Protocol.,The APIC defaults to C(coop) when unset during creation.
attribute :bounce_trigger
validates :bounce_trigger, expression_inclusion: {:in=>[:coop, :flood], :message=>"%{value} needs to be :coop, :flood"}, allow_nil: true
# @return [Integer, nil] Hold interval in seconds.,Accepted values range between C(5) and C(65535).,The APIC defaults to C(300) when unset during creation.
attribute :hold_interval
validates :hold_interval, type: Integer
# @return [Integer, nil] Local end point aging interval in seconds.,Accepted values range between C(120) and C(65535); 0 is used for infinite.,The APIC defaults to C(900) when unset during creation.
attribute :local_ep_interval
validates :local_ep_interval, type: Integer
# @return [Integer, nil] Remote end point aging interval in seconds.,Accepted values range between C(120) and C(65535); 0 is used for infinite.,The APIC defaults to C(300) when unset during creation.
attribute :remote_ep_interval
validates :remote_ep_interval, type: Integer
# @return [Integer, nil] Move frequency per second.,Accepted values range between C(0) and C(65535); 0 is used for none.,The APIC defaults to C(256) when unset during creation.
attribute :move_frequency
validates :move_frequency, type: Integer
# @return [String, nil] Description for the End point rentention policy.
attribute :description
validates :description, type: String
# @return [:absent, :present, :query, nil] Use C(present) or C(absent) for adding or removing.,Use C(query) for listing an object or multiple objects.
attribute :state
validates :state, expression_inclusion: {:in=>[:absent, :present, :query], :message=>"%{value} needs to be :absent, :present, :query"}, allow_nil: true
end
end
end
end
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
}
| 8,297
|
1. Community Hall :Centrally air-conditioned having sitting capacities of 1000 plus persons, located in our premises, will be made available for certain programs / functions on reasonable charges.
4. Food Court :Tea/coffee, snacks, lunch – dinner and beverages are available at reasonable price at our food court located in basement of museum with open garden facing the river front of Sabarmati.
6. Parking :Sufficient parking facilities for two/four wheelers and buses/coaches in the premises.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
}
| 5,202
|
Have you ever been stumped in a configuration file or some other installation for a web based program when asked for an absolute path? The thing that you are installing will not work because the application insists on you entering the absolute file path yourself which you simply do not happen to know. There's no way around it, you have to get absolute path to the file or folder where items are going to be stored or used by the application. You are thinking to yourself 'why can't the stupid program figure it out on it's own?' That's not going to be helpful though, you just have to know how to find absolute paths.
If the path is unknown to you things won't work.
Step 5 in the installation process when installing Joomla! is the FTP configuration. If you want to 'Enable FTP file system layer' in this step it requires that you input the FTP root path. There is a button labelled 'Autofind FTP Path' but it doesn't always work. It has never worked for me when setting up a local install environment on my Mac using MAMP. Fortunately you don't need this step in order to get Joomla! to install, but if you want the FTP file system layer set up you are going to have to type it in the field required for it. Once you type the absolute path in the FTP root path field there is a button to 'Verify FTP Settings' which does verify the settings when they are correctly input. You can not get past this step with a relative path, it must be the absolute path. It can be really frustrating to find the absolute path. Web hosting services have all kinds of different set ups on how they serve domains on their servers. The path you need can literally be hidden from you.
What is the purpose of the absolute path?
So this absolute path is what helps the application or system find it's way. Fortunately there is an easy way to figure out what the absolute path is. Joomla! is a php open source content management system. What we need is a php script that will help us determine where the absolute path is on the server. You can easily make this script yourself using the very handy free text editor TextWrangler application from Bare Bones Software. Don't use MS Word for this. You want a simple text editor that will not add, remove, or change characters you type in.
Save the above file as findpath.php. It is important that you use '.php' (without the quotes) in the file name as you are making a php script file.
You now need to upload this file to your web server. Put this file in the public_html folder of your web server. This will be the root directory of your domain. If you have sub-domains inside that root directory with additional Joomla! installs you will need to put it into the appropriate folder. For the most part, if you only have one domain being served by your web hosting service, it will go in the public_html folder.
Of course you could put this file inside a folder in a sub-directory and get the path to that directory. This is very handy for sorting out path issues to bulletin board forums, photo albums, and other applications on your web server.
When you are done it is VERY IMPORTANT that you DO NOT leave this file on your server. If you do it can be a big security risk for you if someone else comes across this file. It could be used to exploit a weaknesses of an application or program on your server that may be poorly written. Be sure to delete 'findpath.php' as soon as you have finished with it.
Did you forget your free website audit? Send us your email and website address.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
}
| 2,523
|
<<Prev Day <Wk <Mo <Yr
>Yr >Mo >Wk >>Next Day
TD Title (Click to View) Studio Daily Gross Theaters / Avg Screens / Avg Shows / Avg Gross To-Date Day
1 Think Like a Man SGem $1,951,643 2,015 $969 2,600 $751 10,000 $195 $40,974,315 6
2 The Lucky One WB $1,363,043 3,155 $432 3,600 $379 13,700 $99 $27,198,209 6
3 The Hunger Games LGF $944,136 3,752 $252 5,100 $185 15,500 $61 $360,163,155 34
4 Chimpanzee BV $688,922 1,563 $441 1,600 $431 7,400 $93 $12,936,325 6
5 The Cabin in the Woods LGF $654,133 2,811 $233 3,000 $218 11,900 $55 $29,494,110 13
6 American Reunion Uni. $454,955 3,033 $150 3,200 $142 10,700 $43 $50,095,235 20
7 21 Jump Street Sony $395,573 2,427 $163 2,500 $158 8,400 $47 $128,510,007 41
8 The Three Stooges Fox $388,580 3,482 $112 3,900 $100 14,700 $26 $31,314,741 13
9 Titanic 3D Par. $333,088 2,515 $132 3,100 $107 7,300 $46 $53,992,038 22
10 Wrath of the Titans WB $298,150 2,502 $119 3,600 $83 8,900 $34 $78,222,536 27
11 Lockout FD $268,172 2,335 $115 2,335 $115 9,300 $29 $12,122,738 13
12 Mirror Mirror Rela. $265,436 2,938 $90 3,000 $88 9,500 $28 $56,347,665 27
13 Dr. Seuss' The Lorax Uni. $94,980 1,583 $60 1,900 $50 5,000 $19 $207,477,555 55
14 Bully (PG-13) Wein. $69,562 263 $264 270 $258 1,170 $59 $1,448,573 13
15 Salmon Fishing in the Yemen CBS $68,225 445 $153 450 $152 1,360 $50 $7,274,160 48
- To the Arctic (IMAX) WB $40,031 50 $801 50 $801 200 $200 $384,278 6
- Journey 2: The Mysterious Island WB (NL) $30,263 444 $68 530 $57 1,600 $19 $101,337,916 76
- Born to Be Wild (IMAX) WB $24,953 32 $780 32 $780 60 $416 $18,391,409 384
- Safe House Uni. $19,455 301 $65 301 $65 820 $24 $125,668,875 76
- This Means War Fox $16,460 293 $56 300 $55 930 $18 $54,159,077 69
- Project X WB $15,841 258 $61 260 $61 830 $19 $54,543,256 55
- Woman Thou Art Loosed!: On the 7th Day Code $15,614 106 $147 110 $142 470 $33 $983,929 13
- Jeff, Who Lives at Home ParV $12,672 122 $104 122 $104 340 $37 $4,068,253 41
- The Iron Lady Wein. $12,276 102 $120 102 $120 200 $61 $29,992,378 118
- Act of Valor Rela. $11,799 229 $52 230 $51 600 $20 $69,509,193 62
- Blue Like Jazz RAtt. $10,386 126 $82 130 $80 480 $22 $500,363 13
- Chronicle (2012) Fox $8,484 137 $62 140 $61 490 $17 $64,332,027 83
- Friends with Kids RAtt. $7,799 83 $94 83 $94 220 $35 $7,114,874 48
- The Artist Wein. $6,614 86 $77 90 $73 180 $37 $44,174,601 153
- Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked Fox $4,426 135 $33 140 $32 380 $12 $132,936,975 132
- Casa De Mi Padre LGF $4,201 58 $72 60 $70 190 $22 $5,787,253 41
- A Thousand Words P/DW $3,880 168 $23 170 $23 500 $8 $17,950,005 48
- Touchback Anch. $3,562 69 $52 70 $51 220 $16 $152,651 13
- The Woman in Black CBS $3,333 90 $37 90 $37 250 $13 $54,290,089 83
- We Bought a Zoo Fox $3,305 66 $50 70 $47 170 $19 $75,557,597 125
- My Way (2012) CJ $2,438 22 $111 22 $111 80 $30 $25,801 6
- Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace (in 3D) Fox $2,089 32 $65 32 $65 70 $30 $43,408,772 76
- Silent House ORF $2,014 59 $34 60 $34 140 $14 $12,735,913 48
- Tyler Perry's Good Deeds LGF $1,867 81 $23 81 $23 230 $8 $34,859,476 62
- Red Tails Fox $1,545 39 $40 40 $39 90 $17 $49,830,776 97
- W.E. Wein. $1,275 15 $85 15 $85 34 $38 $568,509 83
- Coriolanus Wein. $1,145 14 $82 14 $82 40 $29 $690,026 97
- Undefeated (2012) Wein. $909 17 $53 17 $53 42 $22 $507,415 69
- Jesus Henry Christ EOne $664 3 $221 3 $221 12 $55 $10,102 6
- Albert Nobbs RAtt. $457 15 $30 20 $23 20 $23 $3,000,275 90
Note: Screen and Showing Counts are estimates made by Box Office Mojo based on showtimes tracking information. To read more about box office tracking and terminology, click here.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaCommonCrawl"
}
| 4,822
|
"Baby Daddy" Episode "The Wheeler And The Dealer" Airs On ABC Family June 12, 2013
June 9, 2013 Amy Crooks 1 Comment abc family, baby daddy, chelsea kane, derek theler, disney, disney shows, disney stars, jean-luc bilodeau, melissa peterman, tahj mowry
BEN BROKERS AN ENDORSEMENT DEAL FOR DANNY ON AN ALL-NEW EPISODE OF "BABY DADDY," WEDNESDAY, JUNE 12TH AT 8:30PM ET/PT ON ABC FAMILY
Ben takes over as Danny's manager in attempt to land his brother a big endorsement deal in a brand new episode of "Baby Daddy," airing Wednesday, June 12th, at 8:30pm ET/PT on ABC Family.
In "The Wheeler and the Dealer," Ben discovers an endorsement opportunity for Danny with a new brand of Japanese energy drinks. Against Bonnie's advice, Ben convinces Danny to sign the deal, but he must pick up the pieces when things go haywire at Danny's commercial shoot. Meanwhile, Riley takes an interest in volunteering and accepts a job as a candy striper at the hospital. She doesn't feel like she's really making a difference, until a friend shows up in need of a little mouth-to-mouth.
"Baby Daddy" stars Jean-Luc Bilodeau ("Kyle XY"), Derek Theler ("90210"), Tahj Mowry ("The Game") with Melissa Peterman ("Reba") and Chelsea Kane ("Dancing with the Stars," "Jonas LA"). The series is created and executive produced by Dan Berendsen ("The Nine Lives of Chloe King," "Sabrina, the Teenage Witch" and "Hannah Montana: The Movie"). "Baby Daddy" is a multi-camera comedy that shoots in front of a live studio audience in Los Angeles.
Source: ABC Family
Clips via Shine On Media:
← "Fish Hooks" Episodes "Live At The Hamsterwood Bowl" And "A Charity Fair To Remember" Air On Disney Channel June 21
Raini Rodriguez Shared A Behind The Scenes Photo Of "Austin & Ally" Episode "Boy Songs & Badges" →
Video: Get Bella Thorne And Zendaya's Look From The "Contagious Love" Video
March 10, 2013 Amy Crooks 0
"Pretty Little Liars" Episode "Mona-Mania!" Premieres On ABC Family January 15, 2013
January 9, 2013 June 13, 2013 Amy Crooks 0
"Twisted" Episode "The Son Also Falls" Airs On ABC Family March 11, 2014
March 5, 2014 March 8, 2014 Amy Crooks 0
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaCommonCrawl"
}
| 655
|
You are responsible for the realization of challenging SAP projects as part of the global SAP team; You will play a significant role configuring and implementing SAP-PP-PI/ MM functions; You are responsible for the Business Process Analysis in cooperation with the Business and provide concepts and specifications; You customize SAP solutions in collaboration with the process experts from the business team and implement those using defined methodologies (i.e. data migration, key user training, testing and go-live); Your duties are the 2nd and 3rd level support, Change & Incident Management and you also act as helping hand for the key users.
You are an expert in SAP PP-PI/ MM (IM/ PUR) with in-depth knowledge of the SAP business processes; You possess HU Management knowledge in a production environment, MM (IM and PUR); You have integrative knowledge in SAP QM, FI/CO, APO; You have debugging / ABAP/ IDOC knowledge; Any knowledge of MII is an asset; Fluent in German and English and available for travel (approx. 30%).
We have a surprisingly flat hierarchy with direct decision making processes, furethermore we offer a fair employment package with good social benefits.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
}
| 2,358
|
It is incredibly important that our students eat healthy meals to be fueled for the day! Countless studies show that students with better nutrition, students are better able to learn, have fewer absences, have behavioral improvements, and achieve more academically.
Our daily brunch and lunch are provided by The Lunchmaster, which make nutritious food for several schools in the bay area. They never use artificial colors, flavors, or high-fructose corn syrup in their food. All food is made using wholesome, natural, and local ingredients. Their menus are well-balanced and nutritious.
The Lunchmaster follows the strict regulations of the National School Lunch Program.
Be sure to fill out your Free and Reduced Lunch (FRL) and Scholarship forms each new school year!
Meal payments are accepted by cash or check (made out to Summit Public Schools: Rainier) at the main office. Pre-paying for meals is preferred, as it saves our Operations Manager many hours of accounting and billing work.
Please find our non-discrimination statement here.
Make payment online at mymealtime.com.
All Summit families will be asked to complete a meal eligibility application every year. Families can find assistance with applying for free or reduced price school meals by contacting the Operations Manager.
For families who don't qualify for free and reduced price school meals, Summit charges meals at the time of service and sends invoices homes to families at the beginning of every month. Payment for balances is expected by the end of the month and can be made by check, cash or online using a credit card. Summit strongly encourages families to prepay for their children's meals.
If families need assistance with paying for their children's meals or debt they can contact the Operations Manager about resources such as repayment plans.
While Summit will continue to serve meals to students with delinquent meal charges, progress reports, transcripts, and diplomas can be withheld until balances are fully paid.
Nutritious free meals are available for children and teens 18 and younger at many locations throughout the nation throughout the summer while school is out of session. Use the mapping tool below to find a site near you. The tool can be found at https://www.fns.usda.gov/summerfoodrocks.
The only food accommodation we provide on a wide and daily basis is vegetarian. Any student with a food limitation beyond this can fill out the attached medical form to have a meal that accommodates his or her health needs.
Summit Public Schools is committed to creating a healthy school environment that enhances the development of lifelong wellness practices to promote healthy physical activities that supports student achievement. Please see Summit Public Schools Wellness Policy.
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
}
| 7,847
|
Анатолий Ефимович Турбин (1 мая 1933 год, станция Магдагачи, Амурская область) — пилот 1 класса, командир самолёта Ан-12 Магаданского управления Гражданской авиации Министерства гражданской авиации СССР. Герой Социалистического Труда (1973).
Биография
Родился 1 мая 1933 года в рабочей семье на станции Магдагачи, Амурская область. В 1954 году окончил Краснокутское лётное училище, после чего до 1993 года работал пилотом в Магаданском управлении гражданской авиации. Начал трудовую деятельность на Ли-2 в Магаданском лётном отряде, потом был назначен командиром на Ан-12.
Первым привёл Ан-12 на аэродромы Колымы и Чукотки. Налетал в условиях Крайнего Севера более 18 тысяч часов. В 1973 году удостоен звания Героя Социалистического Труда «за выдающиеся достижения при выполнении плановых заданий по авиаперевозкам, применению авиации в народном хозяйстве страны и освоению новой авиатехники».
В 1993 году вышел на пенсию. С 1994 года проживает в городе Лиски, Воронежская область.
Награды
Герой Социалистического Труда — указом Президиума Верховного Совета СССР от 9 февраля 1973 года
Орден Ленина
Примечания
Литература
Воронежская Энциклопедия. — Воронеж, 2008. — Т. 1. — 524 с. — ISBN 978-5-900270-99-9.
Мифтахутдинов А. В. Герои девятой пятилетки: Степень причастности. Магадан, 1975.
Ссылки
Герои Социалистического Труда Воронежской области
Лётчики СССР
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaWikipedia"
}
| 8,343
|
package be.howest.twentytwo.parametergame.model.gamedata;
import be.howest.twentytwo.parametergame.dataTypes.DifficultyDataI;
import be.howest.twentytwo.parametergame.dataTypes.WeaponDataI;
import com.badlogic.ashley.core.Entity;
import com.badlogic.gdx.math.Vector2;
/**
* Wrapper around WeaponDataI to add more functionality to it and extract entity specific data (ammo
* count)
*/
public class WeaponGameData implements WeaponDataI {
private final WeaponDataI weapon;
private Entity owner;
private AmmoData ammo;
private DifficultyDataI modifier;
public WeaponGameData(Entity owner, WeaponDataI weapon, DifficultyDataI difficulty) {
this.owner = owner;
this.weapon = weapon;
setAmmoData(new AmmoData(weapon.getAmmoCount(), 1f / weapon.getFireRate()));
this.modifier = difficulty;
}
/**
* Checks whether the weapon is ready to fire (in terms of cooldown). This does not account for
* ammo.
*/
public boolean isCooledDown() {
return getAmmoData().getCurrentCooldown() <= 0f ? true : false;
}
/**
* Shortcut method to apply cooldown and handle ammo count. Return true if it fired, false
* otherwise.
*/
public boolean fire() {
if(!isCooledDown()) {
return false; // Can't fire (cooldown)
}
if(getAmmoCount() != WeaponDataI.INFINITE_AMMO && getAmmoCount() <= 0) {
return false; // Cant fire (Out of ammo)
}
// Can fire - decrement ammo and start cool down.
if(getAmmoCount() != WeaponDataI.INFINITE_AMMO) {
setAmmoCount(getAmmoCount() - 1);
}
resetCooldown();
return true;
}
/** Starts the cooldown time on the weapon. */
public void resetCooldown() {
getAmmoData().setCurrentCooldown(getAmmoData().getCooldownTme());
}
/** Coolds down the weapon for the given amount of time */
public void cooldown(float dt) {
getAmmoData().setCurrentCooldown(Math.max(-1f, getAmmoData().getCurrentCooldown() - dt));
}
@Override
public String getID() {
return weapon.getID();
}
@Override
public float getOffsetX() {
return weapon.getOffsetX();
}
@Override
public float getOffsetY() {
return weapon.getOffsetY();
}
@Override
public float getFireRate() {
return weapon.getFireRate() * modifier.getFirerateModifier();
}
@Override
public int getBulletsPerShot() {
return weapon.getBulletsPerShot();
}
@Override
public float getShotConeAngle() {
return weapon.getShotConeAngle();
}
@Override
public int getAmmoCount() {
return getAmmoData().getAmmoCount();
}
public void setAmmoCount(int ammoCount) {
getAmmoData().setAmmoCount(ammoCount);
}
@Override
public float getBulletMass() {
return weapon.getBulletMass();
}
@Override
public Vector2 getBulletSize() {
return weapon.getBulletSize();
}
@Override
public float getBulletDamage() {
return weapon.getBulletDamage();
}
@Override
public float getBulletSpeed() {
return weapon.getBulletSpeed();
}
@Override
public float getRange() {
return weapon.getRange();
}
@Override
public float getTurnSpeed() {
return weapon.getTurnSpeed();
}
@Override
public float getTimeDelay() {
return weapon.getTimeDelay();
}
public AmmoData getAmmoData() {
return ammo;
}
public void setAmmoData(AmmoData ammo) {
this.ammo = ammo;
}
}
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
}
| 518
|
Emilia Lungu-Puhallo (n. 1853, Sânnicolau Mare – d. 16 decembrie 1932) a fost o ziaristă și învățătoare bănățeană, fiica profesorului și publicistului Traian Lungu. A fondat în 1872 prima reuniune a femeilor din Banat, cu numele de "Reuniunea Damelor" iar în 1874 a deschis prima școală de fete din Banat, la Izvin. A scris pentru numeroase ziare și reviste, dar și unele poezii, nuvele și schițe.
Bibliografie
Lucian Predescu, Enciclopedia României. Cugetarea, Edituara Saeculum, București 1999 ISBN 973-9399-03-7
Legături externe
Despre Emilia Lungu-Puhallo pe situl BANATerra
Nașteri în 1853
Decese în 1932
Jurnaliști români
Bănățeni
|
{
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaWikipedia"
}
| 1,498
|
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