These houses in the red light district were built to imitate castles on the Rhine, and were owned by church people and politicians.  Everybody winked at this condition.  One minister of this town uttered a loud protest and took his children out of the public schools, but he had to leave the city.  The Christians would not stand for such a protest.  The newspapers would not touch it, trustees would not touch it, the great political parties would not touch it.

I joined the Knights of Labour in that city, an organization then in its prime of strength, but they would not touch it.  I joined the People’s Party in the hope that there I might do something about it.  One of the leading members of that party importuned me to nominate him as presiding officer of the city convention.  “On one condition,” I told him; “that you appoint me chairman of the committee on resolutions.”  And the compact was made.

Five men were on that committee, and when I asked the committee to put in a resolution condemning the education of children from this fund, they refused.  I could only persuade one of four to indorse my minority report, which, signed by two of us, condemned this remnant of Sodom left over; but it swept the convention and was carried almost unanimously.  Even the three men on the resolutions committee who refused to sign it before, voted for it in convention.  I am aware that it does not matter from what fund or funds the public school system is supported.  I am aware also that one of the things we can do is to make that kind of thing cover up its head.

What I suffered for that resolution can never be recorded.

My period of inclement mental weather was followed by a period of poverty—­destitution rather—­I was physically unable to work with my hands and I had not yet tried to earn money by my pen.  I was often so reduced by hunger that I could scarcely walk.  At such times one feels more grateful for friendship.  Into my life then came a few choice souls whose fellowship acted as a dynamic to my life.  It was when things were at their worst that George D. Herron found me.  The almost Jewish cast of feature, the strange, wonderful voice, the prophetic atmosphere of the man forced me to express the belief that I had never met a human being who seemed to me so like Christ.  Then came George A. Gates, the president of Iowa College where Dr. Herron was a professor.  About the same time came Elia W. Peattie and Ida Doolittle Fleming.  Mrs. Fleming and her husband helped me organize a Congregational Church which, when organized, was a means of support.

The church was in a growing section of the city but I could not be persuaded to live there.  I lived where I thought my life was most serviceable—­on “the bottoms.”

One night after a few days’ involuntary fast I found in the hut two cents.  To the city I went and bought two bananas—­one I ate on the way back and the other I put in my hip pocket.