New-York tribune. [volume], June 12, 1921, Page 5, Image 55

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?mmt -y-HY be an anarchist in tho hot, stuffy
W/' <0%vn' wnon you. can go to Stelton,
f I N. J., and be one amid all tho ad
jjatages of country life?
Not only can you be a bucolic anarchist at
Stelton. but, it" you find'that you are not yet
prepared to accept anarchy's prinoiples?or
iack of principles, if it will be had so?you
can step aeross a pleasant cou.ntry road nnd
join a more moderate colony of Socialists,
Then. perhaps, after you have made the suffi?
cient mental progress, you can stop back
icross the line?past where the American
flag wsvea at the edge of the Socialist colony
_ond become one with the radicals, amid tlu
humminp of bees and throbbing of the motora
0f the non-Socialist, non-Anarchist New Jer?
sey coaunutera who dash between the two?
colonies in tho daily race to catch the always
?mpending train for New York City.
The Socialists, who are known as the Fel
lOWShip Farm colonists, picked on Stelton for
the location of their colony some nine years
tgo. There are about a hundred of them left,
holding land in severalty and pursuing their
business in severalty also, following the
acknowledged failure -of communistic experi
ments in dairying, chicken raising and storc
keeping
Two years after the founding of the Fel
lowship colony, some of the members of the
Francisco Ferrer Association, which was
ANARCHIS1
H
OM BABYHOOD
*5M?WW~???
explained. Also it was said they got out the
school magazine?the only one in the world, so
it was stated on the cover, that is edited, set
up and printed by children from nine to four
teen years old. Mr. Kelly said the print shop
had been a great aid to the children and was
the means of advancing them rapidly in the
study of spelling and .rammar. Incidentally,
the children are allowed to use their own ideas
about spelling in the magazine.
"When we founded this school it was right
after Ferrer's death," said Mr. Kelly. "We
did not have a clear idea of what we were
going to do. It has all worked out gradually.
This school building is worth .16,000. We
have an assembly hall with a stage. We have
a place for our printing plant, and we have
our library. The children are not altogether
those of the colonists. Some of them are sent
here to board. Alexis and Elizabeth Ferm
conduct the school, and also run the boarding
house, where the children from outside make
their home. We feel that we were very lucky
to get Mr. and Mrs. Ferm, who ran a school
on somewhat similar lines in Brooklyn.
"The whole proposition is that the child
must be interested naturally in his studies,"
went on Mr. Kelly. "They are all out there
on the school porch now making baskets. The
teachers began the work and the children be
came interested. It is so in the classroom
studies."
According to Mr. Kelly, there is nothing
'Let 'em be natural" is the Ferrer motto, and gosh, how natural they are!
S?
27/2
mnmzWmtW&
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m
Anarchist Row is quite bourgeois in its architecture
founded ln New York City after Ferrer was
put to death for the alleged inciting of riots
in Barcelona in 1909, bought land aeross the
road from the Socialists and founded the
Ferrer Modern School Colony.
Stelton, the scene of this unusual infiux,
is a heavily shaded little town about a mile
and a half on the New York side of New
Brunswick. Its roofs peer invitingly through
the trees, and it is enveloped in the same
atmosphere of peace, prosperity and beauty
that envelops a score of other little towns
along the Lincoln Highway in New Jersey.
Probably six hundred ttains a day thunder
past, according to the testimony of the gate
man, who is kept busy raising and lowering
the gates on the Stelton road which crosses
the main line of the Pennsylvania. For the
rest, the pieture is rural.
There is a bus which "meets all the trains
, stopping at Stelton and carries passengers to
the Fellowship and Ferrer colonies. The trip
is perhaps two miles, through a lovely coun
tryside, but to get the best effect of it all one
should start out ahead of the bus on the re?
turn trip and walk to Stelton. The white
dust of the road is flanked with the rich, red
soil of New Jersey?soil which the Revolu
tionary soldiers did a good deal of fighting
for, just hereabouts. Some of the farm
houses which stand to-day must have come
j not far in the wake of that determined Amer
I ican soldiery. Other places are more modern.
Once in a while there is one with a California
touch. Bungalow hints appear in the archi?
tecture of houses that are just being built.
Some of the fields are plowed and others are
rotating in pasture. It is a "homey" country,
worth fighting for, and worth dying for, if
necessary. One cannot blame those Revolu
tionary soldiers!
There are a couple of general stores at the
end of the bus route. One of them was un
successfully run by the Fellowship colony
for awhile, so one of the colonists said. There
is a hall over it, and meetings are held there.
On the day these notes were taken notices
were tacked to the trees?a Forest of Arden
touch!?announcing a coming lecture by V.
Morris Feigenbaum, on "ProMems of the
Day," admissbn being 25 cents. Why should
any one pay 25 cents to hear Mr. Feigenbaum,
or any one ejse, talk on "Problems of the Day"
on a delightful night in May in rural New
, Jersey when the fireflies are about?
The Fellowship colonists have built their
mdividual places on scattered tracts of onlfr
acre each, surrounding a main building?
evidently a landmark?which sets back in a
heavy growth of trees along a densely shaded
drive way.
A retainer on the Fellowship estates, who
was evidently not one with his employers,
spoke enthusiastically about the Ferrer col?
ony, on the other side of the road.
. 'That's the place you want to see," he said.
( 'That school is the noisiest place in the world.
And they are smart people in that colony over
there. Over here they believe in pie in the sky
wl*n you die, and all that sort of thing, but
?ver in the Ferrer colony you find the real
hrains!"
The Fellowship colonists are by no means
?? first to turn to New Jersey for a working
?ut of theories. Persons now living in Metu
cnen remember the excitement that was
caused when it was announced that Professor
jeorge D. Herron, who, with Eugene V. Debs,
wok a Ieading part in forming a colony, v/as
Eoing to bring Miss Carrie Rand to live with
Qua "according to the new and simple form
?* marriage ceremony." Ho much or protest
**as evoked from the countryside that Herron
?nd his wife left for Florence, Italy, where
"tey Hved until her death in 1914.
Now, according to Harry Kelly, who is the
feco^nizefj spokesman of the Ferrer colony,
the Socialists "across the road" insist on a
conventional marriage ceremony.
"But we don't ask any questions of any
couple in the Ferrer Colony," said Mr. Kelly,
"so long as they don't disturb anybody else."
"Let 'em be natural," might be said to be
the slogan of the Ferrer colonists. Bare
footed women paddle back and forth in the
dust along the colony road to the stores. In
the swimming pool many of the children of
both sexes take to the water without bathing
suits.
In 1919 the activities of the Ferrer colony
came in for investigation by the Lusk com?
mittee, when the Rand School was under fire.
It was charged that New York Reds domi
nated the Ferrer School at Stelton. Much of
the testimony about living conditions in the
Stelton colony was unprintable.
Harry Kelly, who is "Uncle Harry" to the
children of the colony, is fifty years old. He
has a lean, ascetic face. He is a fluent talker
and says it is his business to be a "mission
ary" for the anarchist cause. He is almost
always to be found at the colony. A sign in
the lane leading from the main road tells the
hungry visitor that mealsi are "served at
Harry Kelly's shnck." The "shack" is a neat
little frame bungalow which would well suit
the average man's needs.
The teaching at the Ferrer School Isn't
called anarchism. It is called "liberalism."
As explained by Mr. Kelly, it is this way:
Discipline never is allowed to figure. Dis
cipline might work some great injury to the
child's mind. "Let 'em be natural" is the
"Arithmetic doesn't
slogan that again crops up. The child must
stray into school quite naturally and net urged
by any fear of being late.
"The public school system in this country
is wrong," said Mr. Kelly, "because it is found
interest me any more"
ed on Prussianism?-obedience?discipline. If
a child in the Ferrer School wants to study
arithmetic he knows the arithmetic teacher is
there. If he studies arithmetic ten minutes
and then finds that it does not interest him
^w*JS?ijjffi??'-' ~~ '. - ;>, :
^^Cff^J^y KrfPl. */J
The Little Redsf Schoolhouse where discipline is unknown
any more, he is welcome to take up something
else. He can stray into the print shop where
the students print their own magazine, if he
wants, or he can go swimming.
"The school is the heart and center of the
colony. It is all we exist for. We can take
children when they are young enough and
give them instruction here according to our
methods of iiberalism and do wonders with
them. The children that go from here to
high school at New Brunswick are far in
advance of the children of their age from the
public schools. In fact, they are so far ahead
that there is no comparison."
This statement of Mr. Kelly'a was after
ward taken up with C. T. Stone, principal of
the high school in New Brunswick, Mr. Stone
said:
"We have had a number of students from
the Ferrer Modern School attending our high
school. Among them are several unusually
brilliant students. I have seen nothing, how?
ever, that indicates that the children from that
school are in advance of the children who come
to us from the regular public schools. I do
not think Mr. Kelly's statement about their
children is supported by facts."
Mr. Kelly's overly enthusiastic statement
about the attainmenta of Ferrer School pupils
might have been induced by the fact that the
school was about to celebrate an anniver?
sary. An entertainment was being advertised
throughout the neighborhood. The children
were to appear in one of Lord Dunsany's plays.
They had picked the play themselves, it waa
THE Poet awoke that morning in a bad
humor. Such things happen to every
body. They come, it is said, from a
bad stomach. But a poet has no stom
ach; what he has he calls a heart.
"My heart is sad," he thought.
And because he was a poet he quite natural
ly made a drama out of this simple statement.
He began, then, after he was dressed, by en
tering his wife's chamber with a countenance
which completely upset her.
Married for a year, they were ending their
honeymoon. Or, rather, the husband was
ending it. For the wife was of the sort who
remains till death in 'love with the man she
has chosen.
In addition to his talent, already cele
brated, this husband had a face Which was
handsome and appealing, with an expression
compounded of lassitude and exultation.
The little wife trembled before the pale
mask which presented itself to her that morn?
ing, with tragedy written on every feature.
She had suspected from the first days of her
marriage that her husband would make her
suffer, but she didn't know yet in exactly
what way.
Her mother, a woman of fexperience, had said
to her: ?
"How can you expect to be happy with a
man who has nostrils like his?"
Poor little woman! Pretty for a moment
and doomed forever to trouble, she felt now
that her life of sorrow had begun.
"What is the matter with you?" she asked
in anguish.
He answered in a hollow voice:
"I don't know."
And that was still more frightful than any?
thing she had feared.
"See!" she thought. "He is b?red with me
already. He regrets his loss of freedom. He
The Grap
By Lucie De]
Translated by Wih
Copyri_ht. 1921. N<r\
feels that he needs new sources of inspiration.
He no longer loves me. He loves another!"
"Marco," she entreated, her hands clasped,
"tell me everything. I prefer to know every
thing."
Surprised at her morning toilet, her hair
still unarranged, the rose tint of her youth
shining under her blond tresses, she was so
charming and so distressed that he felt his
heart palpitate with emotion. He hadn't ex
pected so much from a simple attack of ill
humor on getting out of bed. His sensibilities
wer- quickened. His sadness, until then some
what neutral toned, turned to an inky black
ness.
"She will weep in a minute," he thought.
"Something serious is going to happen."
The atmosphere was created. He felt happy. .
He was in his place as a poet. He longed to
romanticize the situation. He wanted to
spread his melancholy over the entire house
hold.
Utterly dejected, he dropped into a seat near
his wife and took his head in his hands. And
because his pose was one of grief he suddenly
felt a real grief take possession of him.
"I wish I were dead!" he murmured.
Thereupon she burst into tears.
After gazing at her for a moment he, too,
began to cry. He had counted on this, also.
The shadows deepened in his soul, most mar
velously.
It was at this moment that the cook came
in to ask for orders. She had been turned
over to them as an extraordinary treasure,
for she had served'in tho bride's family for
twenty years. She saw monsieur and madama
er
larue Mardrus
'iam L. McPherson
v York Tribune Inc.
weeping and stopped, horrified, on the door
sill.
To be weeping, at their ages, after so short
a married life! .
She advanced softly into the room and
asked respectfully:
"What shall I serve for breakfast to-day,
madame?"
But her voice died away almost before she
finished the question. She began to weep
also, and, feeling ashamed of her breach of
decorum, hurriedly disappeared to cover her
chagrin.
The poet followed her with his eyes. He
was thrilled. Decidedly here was sadness in
all its somber beauty!
A few minutes later the maid, forewarned
that there was trouble in the house, would be
entering with a startled face.
"Marco, I beg of you, tell me everything!"
There were three little raps on the door. It
was, in fact, the maid. She was followed by
the little dog, who was coming back from his
morning's outing. The maid had a frightened
look, as was natural, having heard the bad
news from the cook. And the little dog, seeing
his mistress crying, jumped on her knees and
licked her cheeks, according to the sentimentai
custom of the canine worid,
"Mon Dieu, how melancholy! How melan
choly everything is!" exclaimed the poet.
He got up slowly and left the room, He
took his hat and cane. In a few minutes he
was in the streets, warm with sunshine, fresh
ened by the morning breeze.
"How beautiful it is!" he sighed.
After a week of rain the weather was an
unexpected delight The poet walked on with
a bowed head, hardly looking where he was
going.
"Here I am on the quaia already," he said.
"How did I get here?"
There are bookshops and antique ahops on
the quais.
"Well, see here! How long have I been look?
ing for that book?"
*
The Seine danced between its banka, gay
with its shipping. There were three big,
white clouds behind the Louvre and a riot of
color in the fiower-beds of the Tuileries, fur
ther on.
"I want to buy this book."
He had a snatch of conversation with the
bookseller, an old acquaintance. Then, turn
ing to a shop aeross the way:
"What a beautiful old chair!"
He fell into a pleasant revery, recalling
eighteenth century things, while his eyes,
amused at everything they saw, followed tha
panorama of the streets.
"How beautiful life is to-day!" he said.
The joy of the morning possessed him. Ho
felt again in his place as a poet. He was
happy.
He came home radiant, three hours late,
with a fine appetite, all the Seiae breezes still
in his disheveled hair.
"Quick, Marie, let's have breakfast. I am
dying of hunger."
He precipitated himself into his wife'scham
ber, eager to show her his book. But she was
lying on her lounge sobbing, with the little
whining dog hugged tight against her and the
cook, sniffiing, standing in front of her.
Then, stupefied, brutal, forgetting entirely
the morning scene, disturbed in his love of life
and the smiling dreams of his promenade, he
opened His mouth, under the delieate fiowing
mustaches, and cried in a scandalized voiee:
"It is too much! But at least tell me, tell
me, what is there so sad to-day in this house?'*
communistic about the Ferrer colony with the
exception of the school.
"This colony was started, one might say, by
accident," he said. "I visited the Fellowship
colony soon after it was started and some
one there suggested to me that I start an
anarchist colony here. I did not consider the
matter seriously until later. Then I figured
out that it might be done, and that it might
be made the location of the Ferrer School. The
first tract of land was sixty-nine acres. We
bought the land at $75 an acre and sold it at
$150 an acre. Two-thirds of the profits went to
the school. The other third went for general
improvements. Since then we have bought
other land adjoining."
Mr. Kelly was asked concerning the school
exercises then about to be held, if a flag raising
was included in the ceremonies or if flag rais
ings were ever held.
"No," said Mr. Kelly, "if we taught the chil?
dren patriotism and that this country is better
than any other country we would be blanked
hypocrites. There are millions of people in
other countries being taught just the same
thing."
"Do you encourage the Boy Scout movement
or anything of that sort?"
"Only so far as its founders intended?the
study of nature. But the Boy Scouts have be?
come a recruiting field for the army and we
don't intend to encourage any such thing."
Some of the Ferrer colonists, like those in
the Fellowship colony, live in shacks, while
others have built themselves houses of more or
less pretensions. Some have gone in a little
for cultivation or general improvement of their
holdings, others have lavished every care and
much expense on their places, with the inev
itable results of cleanliness and attractiveness.
Mr. Kelly says there are several nationalities
and several varieties of religious belief s among
the colonists. Most of the heads of the fami
lies commute to New York.
Across the street, in the Fellowship colony,
the communistic experiments that have been
launched have been admitted failures.
"We tried chicken raising and got more
than 2,000 White Leghorns," said Manric
Struys, one of the colonists. "Also we tried
cooperative dairying and that failed, and we
tried to run the store on a cooperative basis,
but did not seem to make it go. But in spite
of such failures we have 162 acres, all paid
off. Colonists get one acre of land by buying
shares of stock."
Mr. Struys pointed proudly to his own
house, at the far edge of the colony. It is a
two-story, attractive home.
"I built it myself out of cement blocks," he
said. "Made every block with my own hands."
The land outside the acre tracts is held in
common for the corporation, which is run by
a board of five directors.
In the early literature put out by the Fran?
cisco Ferrer Association in 1914 the complaint
was made that "radicals were too busy making
the revolution to pay any attention to the way
their children were brought up. They left the
youngsters to the care of boards of education
elected by corrupt political machines and wait
ed for them to grow up in ignorance and super
stition before beginning to enlighten them. The
result could not be any other than the one we
have?a very deplorable one. The children of
our radicals are so far from radicalism and
idealism as, and perhaps further than, the chil?
dren of ordinary conservative parents."
It was in order to get away from this sinis
ter influence of "ordinary, conservative par?
ents"?the kind who approve flag raisings and
the teaching of the supremacy of American
ideals of government and who even allow their
children to join the Boy Scouts?that the Fer
rerites established their school of "liberalism"
in the quiet aector of New Jersey adjoiaiwr
New Brunawick.