--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Poulsen, Ezra J. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 28 number: 3 published: 1925-01 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: "Ezra J. Poulsen, “The Road from Yesterday,” *Improvement Era 28, no. 3 (January 1925)*: 268–272." source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2803unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera2803unse start_page: 268 end_page: 272 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1925-01) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2803unse publication_year: 1925 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1925, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # The Road from Yesterday THE ROAD FROM YESTERDAY By Ezra J. Poulsen [Would this story have been better had it held that the son should take the unselfish part. instead of pushing ahead of the father and getting the job for himself? Of course, the son did not know that the offer had been made to the father, but as the story goes, it reminds one of the story of Abraham and Lot. (See Genesis 12 and 13 and 19:17-29.) Lot chose the richest part of the country and Abraham was left in a dry spot, but the outcome was disastrous for selfish Lot, and he was compelled to seek the help of Abra- ham in the end. When the author's, attention was called to this, he wrote: "I desired to have illustrated the quality of unobtrusive service. From my own point of view the comparison with Abraham and Lot is true with regard to Abraham and Gregory, but not between Fleming and Lot. The thought I really sought to emphasize is that doing the commonplace things well, and developing high quality in one's posterity is nothing short of great success. It is a rather settled conviction with me that, for every one who stands out in the limelight there are at least several who stand back in the shadows, and have toiled unceasingly to make the one's achievement possible. It is to them — they who have builded even better than they knew — that I would pay tribute." — EDITORS.] Gregory Stoddard's day of big opportunity was slow in coming; but when it finally did arrive, it found him waiting with his lamp filled and his soul attuned to heed the call. He was particularly busy at the grocery store with an influx of morning customers when the telephone rang with the message from Dryal Benson Company. Ac- cordingly he answered hastily, almost mechanically, while he held six cans of Sego milk and four bars of pure white soap under the hollow of his left arm; but the deep precise voice in the receiver brought him to instant attention, and made his words eagerly respectful. "Yes, yes, sir; I'll be glad to; thankj you — thank you very much ." Turn- ing back to his feminine customer, his face glowed with intense satisfaction. "Milk, sixty; soap, twenty-five; cheese, fifty; salt, ten; total, one forty-five," he sang, pushing the articles across the counter. "Thanks, call again." Every inch of Gregory, from the ground up, contributed visibly to his appearance as a successful groceryman. His medium height was accompanied by medium weight, which combined strength with brisk- ness, durability with poise; and as for his substantial face, it was cordiality and dignity compounded with accuracy and patience. Gray hair and fifty notwithstanding, he was generously equipped with re- serves of adaptability and enthusiasm. He assured himself of this repeatedly during the day of the call from the Dryal Benson Company. It had been uphill plodding thus far, and had taken perceptibly longer than he had originally planned to build his thriving little business up to its present status: but according THE ROAD FROM YESTERDAY 269 to the financial wiseacres the first accumulations were immeasurably the most difficult; hence he concluded, the years with which he had matched his strength were not in vain, even if they had been charged with disappointment. A triumphant smile embellished his compressed mouth, and he threw an askant glance at his watch, as he thought of the six o'clock appointment uptown, which was the direct result of the morning call. The nature of the proposition that would be laid before him by the President of the Dryal Benson Grocery Company he well under- stood, though there had been no specific statement conveying this in- formation over the telephone. It was merely one of those matters that have the quality of getting heralded in advance by insistent ru- mors. For weeks, though, no one seemed to have any authoritiative in- formation, everyone in the trade knew, or pretended to know, that the Dryal Benson Company was looking for a new manager to take charge of its splendid chain of grocery stores in the state. Some of Gregory's friends had been so generous as to predict the place to him. This had been said merely in fun, originally, but upon serious second thought, they had concluded, "Why not? * * * Old Stoddard * * * would make a cracker-jack in that place." In direct sequence, Stoddard himself, mulling the possibility over during his secret moments, had muttered in a sort of telepathic echo, "Why not?" Promptly at thirty minutes before the appointed time he backed his small car out of the garage, and drove uptown in the dull, mid- winter twilight. On sixteenth street he parked on the limited space next a fire hydrant, and with the appearance of more reserve than he felt, walked straight into the spacious office of Sylvester O. Dryal. The president was liberal in his greeting, which made Gregory immediately feel at home; and as he relaxed in the quartered-oak armchair, facing the man at the big flat top desk, he grew in self- reliance. "Mr. Stoddard, we want your help," announced Dryal poign- antly. "You're welcome to it, such as it is," was Gregory's rejoinder. At that moment the groceryman measured himself cautiously, and he rejoiced at the discovery that he was neither* flattered nor awed by the suggestion. The suave, corpulent executive appraised him carefully through dark-rimmed glasses and narrow discerning eyes. "We're looking for a new manager for our local division," he stated. "How would you like to come in with us and add your store to our group at your own figure?" Gregory's heart bumped his epiglottis, and he had a hard fight to remain casual in the presence of a highly appreciated opportunity. He conveyed an impression of perfect self-mastery, however, when he re- 2 70 IMPROVEMENT ERA marked that he would be very glad to give the matter careful considera- tion. "I'm thinking of taking my son into my business. I'd like to talk it over with him. It may be that I'd want to leave him in charge of my store." "That would be agreeable, very agreeable," declared Mr. Dryal, tilting his big body comfortably back in his swivel chair, "What we want is a capable manager who can take the responsibility, and build according to our plans. He must have aggressiveness combined with big vision and practical judgment. As president of the company I favor you, if we can get you: and I'm quite sure my choice will pass the directors." The first effect of the president's attitude made Gregory feel ex- cessively diminutive, but he bravely measured the task, and pro- nounced himself capable. Intuitively he began feeling back along the woven thread of his past, trusting its strength expertly. He was glad he had been diligent in mastering the fundamentals of bookkeeping back in the old days. It was likewise with pleasure that he recalled several innovations, now thoroughly established, he had had the fore- sight to install; and lastly, he gloried in his recent correspondence studies in Business Administration. The course was still unfinished, but he had most of the meat in it, anyway. "I — I'll think it over," he proffered. The drive back to the store was memorable. Gregory backed the car from its groove, and headed it down state street at a speed quite too liberal for him. But his grip on the wheel was iron; he was dominated by the mood of energy; and so finely sensitive was his nervous system that his foot fairly itched to tickle the accelerator. "Think it over!" He had already thought it over. The dawn of his great day was about to break, and he knew from the beginning what his answer would be. He was humanly eager to talk it over with Elizabeth and the children. They would be proud of him. Fleming in particular would be delighted with the full management of the store. That was a splendid opportunity indeed for a young fellow about to be married. His train of thought and his agile little car raced on until to his surprise he found his headlights glaring at his own garage door, and the engine was truckling impatiently to be admitted. Home was waiting for Gregory with its full quota of happiness. A rosy coal fire danced in the living room fire place, and supper was set in the dinning room. Elizabeth, with her raven hair and winsome smile, greeted him in radiant sweetness, while the girls brought the food from the warming over in the kitchen. "H'llo, Daddie," cried Muriel. "You're late tonight. You'll have to give an extra kiss for punishment." Accordingly she puckered her thirteen-year-old mouth to collect the fine, and he rejoiced in the payment, together with its accompaniment of curly bobbed hair and violet eyes, like her mother's. THE ROAD FROM YESTERDAY 271 "No fair," objected Olga; "Me, too." And laughingly, her budding womanhood and announced engagement offered no interfer- ence, she came in for her share of the carresses. "Fleming hasn't come yet, so we'll not wait," announced Eliza- beth with motherly solicitude. "He must be working late." "All right, Mother." During the meal Gregory was greatly invigorated by the thought of the choice surprise he was going to spring on his family. He knew they would rejoice in his good fortune, and that they — Elizabeth in particular — would reaffirm their undying faith in him. It made him feel somewhat of a hero to know this, but he refrained from making the initial statement, knowing the longer he waited the sharper the climax would seem. It would be just as well to wait for Fleming anyway. The boy — young man in reality — would be very glad to hear. Fleming had all those qualities necessary to make him the apple of his father's eye. Steady, industrious, intelligent, he had been a faithful delivery boy, an energetic clerk, a rousing good student, and now at twenty-six was temporarily a bookkeeper at one of the city banks. He was not satisfied, however, and had frequently expressed his preference to be at the head of a small, growing business. No other desire could have been so ideally in harmony with existing cir- cumstances; and Gregory, while taking part in the usual pleasantries at the table, continued to develop this thought into a beautiful air castle. But suddenly the door was thrust open, and Fleming in person fairly rushed into the room, his face aglow with excitement. He threw his hat and overcoat carelessly on the rack. "Gee, Mother and Daddy, I've gone and done it now," he declared, taking his place at the table. "Done what?" they both demanded in a breath. "I've started out after the biggest thing I've ever attempted," he dilated. "The cashier and the president have both given me a heary recommendation, and they think with Daddy's help I'll land it." "Land what?" Gregory Stoddard spoke with paternal impatience. "The managership of the Dryal Benson string of stores. — Haven't you heard they were getting a new man?" Then without waiting for an answer: "Funny, you being in business the way you are!" For just an instant a deadening chill clutched at Gregory's heart, and the room grew a trifle unsteady. "O — Oh, yes — I see," he falt- ered; then added briskly, "Why, yes, yes, that's a great idea!" The gamut of human emotions varies from the highly elemental to the highly socialized, and Gregory immediately suffered exposure to the entire range. A wave of resentment surged through his being at the first impression of his son's announcement. The idea seemed presumptuous. He had been so sure Fleming would be happy with the management of the store, which was the result of a lifetime devo- 272 IMPROVEMENT ERA - . tion, that the knowledge to the contrary was like a sharp rebuke — "Young people now-a-days want to go too fast, expect too much for little," he criticized to himself. "Golly, Mother and Daddy, I'm so enthusiastic about that position I can scarcely think of anything else. I've grown up in a grocery store, and I've had a college course in commerce and finance. That position just puts me on my toes with eagerness to work. Why don't you say something?" The young man looked to his father and mother through wide set but small, dynamic, brown eyes, while his mouth, rather wide and generous, was drawn into an interrogating smile. Elizabeth turned to her husband, clearly waiting for him to1 answer, and the girls both hung in expectant eagerness for his reaction. Gregory swallowed hard, and turned from one to the other of the members of his happy family. He saw what he must inevitably say, and held his own little dream manfully in abeyance. "Why, boy of mine," he promised jovially, "you are man enough to fill the position, and we won't leave a stone upturned to stand in the way of your getting it." Instantly his soul delighted in the joy of self-sacrifice, and he began the vigorous task of reasoning out a plan of reconstruction. Fleming was young but capable, and the big promotion would carry immensely more potential achievement at twenty-six than it would at fifty. Besides, he could be happy running the one little store. Anyway, was not Fleming his boy? And was not the son's success also the father's? When supper was over Gregory went to the telephone in rhe hall, and carried on a long conversation which the other members of the family did not hear; upon returning a broad smile was framed on his plain face, and he greeted Fleming as the future manager of Dryal Benson Company, district number one. The rest of the evening was spent around the fireplace, discussing Fleming's good fortune; then, before retiring, Gregory stood in the darkness by the bedroom window, gazing long and reminiscently at the winter moonlight. The tiny, crusted wavelets on the guilded snow seemed metamorphosed into the tombstones of a thousand yesterdays. He thought all back along the way and was sorry he had not been able to accomplish bigger things, but rejoiced in the bright possibilities of his son. A pair of soft arms stole around his neck, and Elizabeth drew him into the subdued light of the window. "I — I — knew that place was offered to you," she murmured, "but I didn't know what to say, Dear, you were so fine about it. Fleming wouldn't think of ac- cepting it, if he knew." "That's one- reason why he'll be a big success, not knowing," Gregory answered proudly. Elizabeth's arms tightened. "Yes," she whispered, her voice tremulous with love, "and for the same reason, together with a million others, you are a tremendous success yourself."