CHAPTER XX In those days it was impossible to carry on a conversation with Potter Waite on any subject but aviation. No matter where the talk started, aeroplanes seized it and flew away with it. He was a man preaching a crusade, and he preached it with an intensity, a fire, a grim fanaticism that caught and carried away his hearers if only for a moment of enthusiasm. He had the gift to make men see, and such singleness of purpose as somewhat nonplussed the careless and irritated them with the itch of accusing uneasiness. He would have had every man, woman, and child in America working to give America wings. He preached a religion, and the creed of it was, "By aeroplanes alone shall ye be saved." Men not yet touched by the gradual awakening of the nation avoided him as one infected, for he did not mince words with them, nor choose terms. He was intolerant with the intolerance of youth; impatient, restless, with an impatience and restlessness all his own. He burned. When he talked his hands were never still, and his eyes would grow hotter and hotter with the fires of his purpose until it made one uncomfortable to return their gaze. With men of a certain type he had scant popularity, which he was at no pains to increase. He did not seek opportunities to make himself heard, but if men would talk to him they must listen to what he had to say. Only once did he speak in public, and that was without invitation or premeditation. The occasion was a noonday luncheon of manufacturers in the Board of Commerce dining-room, where they listened to a millionaire manufacturer invited to speak about newly arising problems of labor. It was a smug talk, with the jingle of dollars playing an obbligato through its length; it was a talk characteristic of the opinion and the lethargy of the day; characteristic of the individualism of the Middle-Westerner. It contained polite references to the war and to the flag and vague reflections as to the high duty of Detroit and Detroit's wealth to lay some unspecified contribution on the nation's plate. Probably the speaker imagined himself to be a patriot; his hearers applauded. It was a comfortable speech that caused no unpleasant notions to present themselves, and offered a sort of royal road to patriotic service. Potter listened and scowled and wriggled uneasily in his chair. When the speaker had emptied his reservoir the chairman invited discussion, and more than one well-fed man of business arose to place his O. K. on the splendid sentiments which had drenched them.... Potter sat on the edge of his chair.