BIO: William F. Gable, Tillard Pen Pictures, 1911, Blair County, PA 

Contributed April 2003 for use in the USGenWeb Archives 
by Judy Banja <jbanja@comcast.net>

Copyright 2003.  All rights reserved.
http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm
http://www.usgwarchives.net/pa/blair/
_________________________________________ 

                Pen Pictures of Friends and Reminiscent Sketches
                                by J. N. Tillard

             Altoona, PA: William F. Gable & Co., Mirror Press, 1911 

                        Pen Picture of WILLIAM F. GABLE

                 Big of Body, Broad of Mind and Great of Heart;
              He Would Have Been a Scholar Even Had He Been Obliged 
                      to Learn His Alphabet from a Poster

THE incautious and unpracticed pen painter of character cartoons is prone to 
exceed his limitations by ambitiously stretching a canvas too large for his 
capabilities and attempting the delineation of a personality beyond his feeble 
powers.
  The man who attempts to sketch William F. Gable must lay broad lines and fill 
in with a strong touch, else the result will but feebly portray the subject. Big 
of body, broad of mind and great of heart, the pretty and conventional portrait 
will not serve to bring him into true perspective. While to the casual observer 
this affable, suave and gracious gentleman may not appear formidable, those who 
have gotten close enough to him to be aware of his disconcerting habits of 
stepping aside from beaten paths, and, with mighty arm and compelling brain 
hewing out mental short-cuts through the ruck of tradition and convention that 
bind lesser intellects, are just a trifle timid about dogmatically determining 
what manner of man he is. For, notwithstanding the fact that the inherent 
instincts of the gentleman always envelop him like the wideness of the sea and 
it seems impossible for those with whom he is brought in contact to find any 
evidence of egotism or disagreement with generally accepted views along any 
line, it does not follow that he is a fetish worshipper or the victim of 
sycophancy, mental or moral cowardice, or any of the other weaknesses that hold 
men in thrall to their environment.
  His "little journeys" into untrodden paths are mostly taken alone for the 
reason that he respects sincerity wherever he finds it and would not wound, 
destroy or endanger the peace of the weaker brother who cannot mount the same 
heights to widen his horizon without danger of falling.
  One of the most beautiful aspects of his character is his profound regard for 
the weaknesses, foibles and cherished views of other men. He would not pluck the 
flowers from their paths even though they be artificial, or take any of their 
small joys in the futile attempt to replace them with greater ones that they 
have not the capacity to appreciate.
  His wisdom is not of the transcendent sort that always keeps its head in the 
clouds and expects all others to reach the same plane. Rather his ear is always 
to the earth that he may give practical help and counsel, flavored with a mead 
of kindliness that renders it pleasant to the palate and helps without 
destroying self-respect. He realizes that all men are not cast in the same 
mighty mold with himself and that fundamental weaknesses can scarcely be 
regenerated or temperamental differences always adjusted. In his dealings with 
his fellows he never attempts impossibilities or tries to usurp the prerogatives 
of creative force. While it is not as perfect a world as he would like to have 
it, and he feels the reflex of its sorrows, sympathizes with its blind gropings 
and sometimes feels the surges of a mighty wrath because of its injustice, he 
expends no force in impotent efforts to buck the inevitable.
  Having done his best to relieve suffering where he cannot create a perfect 
condition of happiness, and to alleviate where he cannot entirely heal, he most 
of the time wisely follows the lines of least resistance, and by keeping in 
harmony with his environment conducts a successful business and renders himself 
a strong factor in the commercial life and progress of the community. With 
untiring energy he works while others sleep. He has not built up the great 
department store business, of which he was the architect and pioneer in this 
city, by slothful ease, contented dawdling or perfunctory methods.
  Those of his patrons who meet the leisurely, urbane gentleman in his 
salesrooms on an afternoon, and linger with him in easy chat and social 
restfulness, are never aware by any outward sign, that the great brain behind 
the smiling face is even then working out problems of trade and finance that 
would distract a lesser mind. To all outward appearances the big store would go 
right on without his presence, as he only seems to be a more than usually 
pleasant floorwalker. But then they were not in the inside when that splendid 
organization was being built up that causes the business to move on without 
perceptable jar and which never seems to get loose in any of its component 
parts.
  Marengo and Austerlitz were won because "the little corporal" had sat awake in 
his tent. When he sat on horse-back on the battlefield he was but calmly 
watching the working out of his victory-achieving plans. While, by the light of 
his genius, he might suddenly and swiftly adjust himself to a new situation, and 
send a few battalions thundering over a course not marked on the map of the 
night before, for the most part the master-mind had foreseen every contingency 
and worked out every problem in advance. The enemy was usually defeated before 
the battle began. With Napoleon out of it, the game was lost. He must be master 
of the entire situation, know every detail in advance and trust as little as 
possible to uncertain sources of information. His power waned with his energy. 
The lithe and alert Corsican of Marengo was not the fat and sluggish Frenchman 
of Waterloo, who was content to take the word of a peasant while the flower of 
his army galloped toward the sunken road.
  While William F. Gable may seem to be only ornamental on the floor of his 
store, just take a peep into his office at midnight, long after the last of his 
most trusty lieutenants have left, and all by himself he is still toiling 
through his plans of campaign. The reports of subordinates; the estimates of 
department heads and the correspondence from a thousand marts of trade still 
engross him. There may be a sunken road somewhere in the plain of commerce 
before him that none but his own farseeing and experienced eye may detect. To 
overlook it may cause ruin. To carelessly ignore it would be criminal. Not only 
his own fortune and future are involved, but all the company who have devoted 
their lives to his service and have come up with him through many a strenuous 
day, must be considered. On the morrow, relying on the tried judgment of their 
captain, they will go forth at the word of command, trusting that he will have 
guarded against unforseen dangers. He must not fail them, for confidence, once 
destroyed, is not easily regained.
  The responsibilities of the captain of industry, who is not a mere monopolist 
held in his position by unjust laws or conditions, are not light. It is very 
easy for the captain who has no real competition and, therefore, no real enemy 
or antagonist in the battlefield of commercialism, to strut and pose, galloping 
over the helpless bodies of the victims of unjust artificial condition, while he 
charges windmills; but Mr. Gable is not one of these and he would not be if he 
could. This is not flattery or idle talk. Those who know him speak advisedly 
when they say that he is not built that way.  He is not claiming any credit for 
that, for it might be easier for him if he was built a little differently and 
was not hampered so much by conscience. Superior  absence of conscience will 
sometimes win where the superior possession of intelligence will not. As "Fingy" 
Conners says: "Brains is as cheap as ten-penny nails, what you want to do is to 
get there and damn the  methods." The subject of this sketch wants to get there, 
and he has the brains, but if he can't get there legitimately, he won't arrive 
and won't worry about it. 
  But then he is big enough to live another life aside from the struggle for 
mere existence. Men frequently excuse "their crass ignorance by the asinine 
declaration that they had no educational opportunities. They spell cat with a 
"k" because they were never sent to college.  Gable would have been a scholar if 
he had been obliged to learn his alphabet from a poster on a telegraph pole, and 
then he would have earned money writing posters for other fellows until he owned 
the pole and the wires stretched on them if they were the only vehicles of 
learning.
  He has not been too busy conducting business enterprises to make the 
acquaintance of all the men and women who ever lived in this world that left any 
written trace of their lives that was worth knowing. He is no pedantic cad who 
has filled his library with books because he had the money to buy them. Neither 
has he crammed himself with an indiscriminate lot of literary junk that has 
given him mental dyspepsia. Quite to the contrary, he is an able rejecter of 
undesirable and brain-enfeebling pabulum and wastes no time or gray matter over 
shop-worn or frayed productions, no matter how orthodox they may be. While 
always respecting the honest opinions of others, he reserves the right to be 
himself in his private affairs and to follow the bent of his own convictions and 
walk in the fields of thought that most appeal to his sense of the eternal 
fitness of things.
  He is the sort of man who in the final ending of all things material, will 
stand amid the crush of matter and the wreck of worlds looking out with a 
fearless eye upon the mighty events, with the sublime confidence that in the end 
there will be an evening up and patient justice will have her perfect way.

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