Before the book was in print, I was freely and openly informed "there
is a trick, or catch," somewhere in that claim that there is not one
letter E in the entire book, after you leave the Introduction. Well; it
is the privilege of the reader to unearth any such deception that he
or she may think they can find. I have even ordered the printer not to
head each chapter with the words "Chapter 2," etc., on account of that
bothersome E in that word.
In closing let me say that I trust you may learn to love all the young
folks in the story, as deeply as I have, in introducing them to you.
Like many a book, it grows more and more interesting as the reader
becomes well acquainted with the characters.
Los Angeles, California
February, 1939
I
If Youth, throughout all history, had had a champion to stand up for
it; to show a doubting world that a child can think; and, possibly,
do it practically; you wouldn't constantly run across folks today
who claim that "a child don't know anything." A child's brain starts
functioning at birth; and has, amongst its many infant convolutions,
thousands of dormant atoms, into which God has put a mystic possibility
for noticing an adult's act, and figuring out its purport.
Up to about its primary school days a child thinks, naturally, only of
play. But many a form of play contains disciplinary factors. "You can't
do this," or "that puts you out," shows a child that it must think,
practically, or fail. Now, if, throughout childhood, a brain has no
opposition, it is plain that it will attain a position of "status quo,"
as with our ordinary animals. Man knows not why a cow, dog or lion was
not born with a brain on a par with ours; why such animals cannot add,
subtract, or obtain from books and schooling, that paramount position
which Man holds today.
But a human brain is not in that class. Constantly throbbing and
pulsating, it rapidly forms opinions; attaining an ability of its own;
a fact which is startlingly shown by an occasional child "prodigy"
in music or school work. And as, with our dumb animals, a child's
inability convincingly to impart its thoughts to us, should not class
it as ignorant.
Upon this basis I am going to show you how a bunch of bright young
folks did find a champion; a man with boys and girls of his own; a man
of so dominating and happy individuality that Youth is drawn to him
as is a fly to a sugar bowl. It is a story about a small town. It is
not a gossipy yarn; nor is it a dry, monotonous account, full of such
customary "fill-ins" as "romantic moonlight casting murky shadows down
a long, winding country road." Nor will it say anything about tinklings
lulling distant folds; robins carolling at twilight, nor any "warm glow
of lamplight" from a cabin window. No. It is an account of up-and-doing
activity; a vivid portrayal of Youth as it is today; and a practical
discarding of that worn-out notion that "a child don't know anything."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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