At The Fulcrum—Joseph A. Sadony

FROM: The Whisper--Vancourier to the Voice-June 1934



     I’m in a nearby town, parked for a few moments by the curb of a business street. It is a sunny, Spring day, the window of my car is open, and I can hear as well as see the effect of it on the men, women and children who pass by.  It has given some of them a little burst of energy for which they seem to find no release save through their tongue.  Others, you can see, by the half-smile on their faces, are holding it in, hurrying to a work that is evidently a pleasure to them, to release it in the environment of their activity.  Some are lagging on the street, advertising the first symptoms of “spring fever.”  Their mind wasn’t on their work.  They started the day without consulting the compass of a definite purpose.  Consequently they ate twice too much breakfast to fill the void.  The first domino is down.  Their lunch will not agree with them.  They will be out of sorts at the end of a day that is neither fish, flesh nor fowl.  Better if they had declared a holiday and be done with it.  They will go to bed tired out nether with work nor with pleasure, but with suspended animation between the two.   Therefore tomorrow morning is also apt to start wrong. They could overcome it in an hour if they would grab hold of something and “work up a sweat.”  Dinner would be a pleasure instead of a fret. Evening would bring the smile and sigh of satisfaction that comes of having overcome by seizing the tiller of one’s own ship.  And tomorrow would be a notch up on the ladder of progress and self-confidence.  .  .


     A man just passed by who was ridiculing to his companion the belief of another.  There is only one conclusion to draw.   He is either overfed, ashamed or guilty.  If worthy of expression, he would not have such poisoned darts of unbelief.   He has yet to discover that the man who plants the seed of discord allows his enemy to harvest it for him.  .  .

     Perhaps he is jealous.  If so, he is blind to his own gifts.   No man can take the place of another, but he has already lost his own if he thinks he can.  .  . 

     I like his companion because I could see that he didn’t like the line of conversation.  The corners of his eyes and the set of his lips showed plainly enough what he thought. He was dong his best to control an anger rising out of disgust.  He seemed the type of man who realizes that the one who holds his temper is greater than the one who provokes it.  .  .

     The other was the type that are always telling “what they are going to do,” ignorant of the fact that in so doing they let down the bars for their intentions to escape. He may at times have good intentions worthy to be materialized.  But if he fails to do so, he has but stolen them, hence knows not the combination to open their doors.  .  .


     Here comes a man who is evidently one of the leading and most prosperous citizens.  He may justly feel that he has reached the top.  I would like to ask him, however, if his interest in life is strong enough so that if compelled to do so, he could start over again, up the same ladder.  If not, does he think he is entitled to his success, when his principle is not his main item in life?  Or has he a lack of confidence because he acquired all he has by the opportunity of cooperation, which he dare not repeat, in fear of failure.  It is a much to his credit to hold, as to have made.  

     I have seen today a good example of both a genuine and an artificial man. Their character is revealed in their eyes, in their walk, the angle of the head and gestures while conversing with a companion walking down the street.

     The man that is genuine does kind deeds spontaneously.  He expects no pay, for he does not realize that he has done anything that deserves it.

     The artificial man does all things for a purpose.  He advertises what he has done, because he had to do it with an effort, he expects returns for misrepresenting what he wants others to believe of him.

     The genuine man is always happy, for he believes people so kind for being considerate of him. He does not realize what fine traits he has, which brings these returns.

     The artificial man expects returns and is always disappointed by that expectation unrealized.  Good deeds never go unrewarded. Selfish ones are repaid only in their own coin.


     I am always on the lookout for men and women who are humble, with simplicity, but have found that they have a right to it only when they have the primitive strength to convince.  A coward may be humble, through fear; a fool, simple through ignorance. It requires strength to burn dynamite slowly.  Only one such man has passed my car today, but I continue too look, with hope. . .


IF LEADERS were only not so selfish,

In fear someone would take their place,

This world would evolve sooner to a peaceful community,

And for one, and one for all, under the discipline of Truth.

Too much is “patented” and “copyrighted”,

Where in freedom of use more truth would be found.

No one need imitate.

A child knows its own father;

And that father should know his own blood and thoughts.