"He who decries created work, municipal lodging-houses, bread-lines, or
even sentimental charity, in the face of the winter's destitution, has
an unsocial soul. The most despicable thing to-day is the whine of our
cities lest their inadequate catering to their own homeless draw a few
vagrants from afar. But when the agony of our winter makeshifting is by,
will a sufficient minority of our citizens rise and demand that the best
technical, economic, and sociological brains in our wealthy nation
devote themselves with all courage and honesty to the problem of
unemployment?"

Carl was no diplomat, in any sense of the word--above all, no political
diplomat. It is a wonder that the Immigration and Housing Commission
stood behind him as long as it did. He grew rabid at every political
appointment which, in his eyes, hampered his work. It was evident, so
they felt, that he was not tactful in his relations with various members
of the Commission. It all galled him terribly, and after much
consultation at home, he handed in his resignation. During the first
term of his secretaryship, from October to December, he carried his
full-time University work. From January to May he had a seminar only,
as I remember. From August on he gave no University work at all; so,
after asking to have his resignation from the Commission take effect at
once, he had at once to find something to do to support his family.

This was in October, 1914, after just one year as Executive Secretary.
We were over in Contra Costa County then, on a little ranch of my
father's. Berkeley socially had come to be too much of a strain, and,
too, we wanted the blessed sons to have a real country experience. Ten
months we were there. Three days after Carl resigned, he was on his way
to Phoenix, Arizona,--where there was a threatened union tie-up,--as
United States Government investigator of the labor situation. He added