by Andy Andrews
“I missed something here,” David said. “I apologize, and I’m sorry for making you backtrack, but . . .”
“All the answers are alike,” Joan said.
“Yes,” Lincoln confirmed, “while they all somehow appear to fit as a piece of the other’s puzzle, perhaps that significance is not as pronounced as we assumed. In any case, ‘compassion’ seems to be another answer in the same vein as hope, courage, and the others. And we are obviously adding the second word when we present our solution to Gabriel, though I don’t feel in any of the answers a second word was necessary. In any case, all the answers we are putting forth do seem to be the same.”
“I agree,” Eric said. “Same for ‘love’ or ‘humility’ or any number of other virtues.”
“I just believe that we must go in an entirely different direction,” Winston said a bit petulantly. “I believe it strongly.”
“Yes,” Eric whispered to the king and rolled his eyes again, “we know.” King David thought this was terribly funny.
“Shh,” Joan said and swatted Eric with her hand under the table. Trying not to smile, she kept her attention on the others.
David sighed. “But what direction?” he said blankly. I feel further away from the answer now than I did when we started.”
Suddenly, there was a burst of applause and excited voices from one of the groups in the theater. Behind David and Winston, Benjamin Franklin hurried from that gathering to the one in the next aisle. After a brief moment of communication, that group also became animated.
As everyone at the table watched in amazement, whatever had sprung from the Franklin gathering made its way around the theater. Again and again, they heard clapping and “Yes!” being proclaimed along with other expressions of affirmation. Finally, the whole theater turned their attention to those at the table and applauded loudly.
David scanned the room. He saw Anne again, and this time, she saw him. Her eyes were excited and her head bobbed up and down at him as she waved to him and clapped with everyone else. Christopher Columbus was standing in his chair, cheering wildly, and almost fell onto Sir Edmund Hillary, who steadied him and ordered him to the floor.
Paul Harvey, on the first row, waved, and when he had David’s eye, pointed to an older black gentleman standing beside him. The man was conservatively dressed in a suit with a vest and bow tie. He was also clapping, but not quite as enthusiastically as the others. As the applause began to diminish, David noticed a large part of the audience looking toward that very man. As they all sat down, Booker T. Washington reached over from the second row and patted him on the shoulder. He turned, smiled graciously, and accepted what appeared to be Dr. Washington’s congratulations.
With the crowd quiet at last, they all turned expectantly to David, who looked across the table to Lincoln and questioned him with an expression. The president smiled and said, “It appears, my friend, that the people have spoken.”
“They have found the answer,” Joan said excitedly.
Eric, a bit more cynical than the rest, tempered her enthusiasm. “They have found what they think is the answer,” he said. “You might remember that we have accomplished that much four times already.”
“No, this is it,” Winston crowed. David wasn’t sure if Churchill really believed that or was simply disagreeing for the fun of it.
When King David pointed directly at the black man on the first row, everyone at the table cringed. Had no one ever told the king it was impolite to point? And who, they wondered, would? No one, it turned out. He announced, “It was the Ethiopian. He discovered the answer.”
Eric leaned over and said, “Ah . . . I don’t think he is Ethiopian.”
“Of course he is,” the king replied. “They have a reputation for brilliance.”
“As far as I am concerned,” Lincoln said, “I believe it time to call our last associate. Are you as anxious as I to hear what they have agreed upon?”
“I am,” David responded. “Anyone else have anything to offer before I do this?” No one did, so he stood and for the fifth time—the final time—said, “The summit requests the assistance of a Traveler.”
For some reason, David had been looking at the black gentleman when he made the call and was fascinated to see the man frown, cock his head, and turn to look briefly at Dr. Washington behind him. Then he stood up.
David was not at all prepared for the response the gentleman received from the theater when he moved toward the table. The Travelers in the audience all stood up with him. Whistling and clapping as he walked the short distance to where he would now be sitting, they were wholeheartedly showing their appreciation for this man and their approval of the choice.
“That man changed the world,” Winston said as they all came out of their chairs to join the ovation.
“Who is he?” David asked.
“That, my friend,” Winston said, “is one of the greatest human beings to have ever walked the planet. That is George Washington Carver.”
Carver appeared to be past seventy years of age, and his close-cropped hair was almost completely gray. The green bow tie he wore marked him as an intellectual, David thought, but it was the way he carried himself that set him apart. He looked comfortable in his skin. It would have been a hard thing to describe, but the way he shook hands with everyone at the table, the manner in which he had acknowledged the ovation, and his humble smile all added up to a man who was at ease with himself and those around him.
“Everyone obviously loves you,” David said as they all sat down. The old gentleman took the only chair left, the one to the right of David and on the end, next to the king.
“They are very kind,” he said looking up into the theater. Shaking his head in amazement, he added, “I’ve got to tell you, I am flat-out excited to be sitting here!” At the table, they all laughed appreciatively, but before anyone could say anything, the man leaned around David to speak to Winston. “Mr. Prime Minister,” he smiled broadly, “I have something for you.”
What could it be? David wondered, as Carver reached first into one pants pocket, then with the other hand, reached into the pocket on the opposite side. Holding up an object between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, Carver said, “Do you believe it?”
Winston reached out to receive the gift. It was a 1909 Lincoln penny—just like the one he had given the president earlier. “Oh my!” Winston said. “Are you certain you want me to have this?”
“Yes,” Carver answered almost bursting with excitement. “Look at this.” In his left hand, he held up another 1909 penny. “I am sorry for the rest of you folks,” he said with a chuckle, “but now that the president has one and the prime minister has one again—this one’s mine!”
To Lincoln, he said, “Mr. President, I was born in 1864 or ’65. Not exactly sure, but it was right around the time your war ended. My natural mama and daddy were slaves. So when you signed the Emancipation Proclamation, sir, you emancipated me.
“Now, it’s a long, crazy story, and I don’t want to bore you good people with it, but a white couple—Moses and Susan Carver—not only saved my life when Quantrill’s Raiders kidnapped my family, but they adopted me.
“It was Mama Carver who gave me this penny when it came out in 1909. There were a lot of them around then, of course, but she told me, ‘George, that man was your president, and he was a wonderful man.’ Mama said that I was to remember you with gratefulness in my heart and this penny in my pocket.
“Anyhow,” he continued, “that little copper picture of you that I just gave to the prime minister was one I got on my own not too long after Mama gave me this first one. I wanted two of ’em. A penny in each pocket, don’t you know, just seems to give a man some balance!” He laughed, and the others laughed with him.
David had a little deeper understanding of the ovation from the audience now. It wasn’t just that Carver had helped with whatever answer they were about to hear. Everyone loved this man. Odd, David mused. The greatest figures in the hi
story of the world, all of them together in one room, and a former slave is the most popular person in the place.
“Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Dr. Carver,” Winston said, holding up the penny before dramatically placing it into his suit-coat pocket. “I shall now be able to treasure this coin as a remembrance of two people. Again, thank you.”
“Dr. Carver?” David said, “I am eager to hear what you said over there that has gotten everyone so excited.
The others at the table added their encouragement, and Carver began. “Well, I can’t remember who it was, but as we were talking, someone remarked that all these virtues we have been offering up as ‘the answer’ were the components of greatness. All I said was, ‘No . . . these are merely the components of character. It is a person’s character that will determine greatness.’”
No one at the table said anything. Eyebrows were raised, and they looked at one another as if waiting for someone to disagree. But no one did.
“Building character,” Lincoln said softly. “Of course. Why does this seem so crystal clear now? But think of it: character—not hope, but character—makes a complete person.”
“Wisdom develops in quiet places,” Winston said. “Character is formed in the swirling storms that are human life.”
Eric nodded. “It makes sense. Courage generally requires bravery of the mind as it risks the body. Character requires bravery of the soul as it risks everything.”
“What do you want?” King David said. “Remember? That is the question of self-discipline. And the discipline of desire is the very basis of building character.”
Carver smiled. “‘It is not circumstances, but character alone that makes the man.’ ’Twas Dr. Booker T. Washington who said those words. Told me that on a hot day in Tuskegee, Alabama.” Thinking for a bit, he added, “See now, circumstances come and go . . . they ebb and flow. Not only is it not circumstances that make the man, but no change in circumstances can repair a defect in a man’s character.”
“Character isn’t something you are born with and can’t change,” Joan said. “It is something you are not born with. Character is a thing we alone are responsible to form . . . to build. And we build it with hope, wisdom, courage, and self-discipline.”
“Does adversity build character?” Eric asked.
“No,” King David responded quickly.
Everyone looked at the king and waited for him to explain his answer. When he did not, Eric said, “Okaaay.”
Lincoln chuckled and offered, “If I may . . . Certainly, I would never compare myself to the king, but”—he nodded toward Winston—“I believe the prime minister and I, having occupied positions of authority, have some idea of the mind-set from which that last answer originated.”
Winston blinked slowly and nodded once as an acknowledgment of the president’s words. Lincoln continued, “Does adversity build character? I agree that it does not. Almost all people can stand adversity of one sort or another. If you want to test a person’s character, give him power.
“Now, since we are concerning ourselves here with the very future of humanity, let me add one thing more. Power corrupts. Trust me on this. And because power corrupts, humanity’s need for those in power to be of high character increases as the importance of the position of leadership increases.
“We are discussing character, correct? Not intelligence. Some of the most intelligent leaders in history have brought disaster to their nations because intelligence is powerless to modify character. Great leadership is a product of great character. And this is why character matters.”
Winston looked to Carver. “Sir,” he said, “I have seen the statue and plaque that exists of you in London.” To the others, he remarked, “Dr. Carver is an elected member of the Royal Society for Encouragement of Arts—the world’s oldest scientific organization.” Back to Carver, he went on. “There are statues of you in Russia, India, and all over the African continent.”
Remembering more he wanted to say, Winston addressed those at the table again. “This man lived in a tiny apartment on the campus of Tuskegee Institute. Franklin and Eleanor told me this next bit, by the way. In that tiny apartment, the crown prince of Sweden came to stay. Not to visit for an afternoon, but to stay for a week! Mahatma Gandhi came all the way from India; bypassed Washington, D.C.; and went directly to Tuskegee. Henry Ford, Thomas Edison—these men and many more made their way to that apartment. There they spent the night, they ate their meals . . . all to be in the presence of this man.”
“Dr. Carver, sir,” Winston said shifting in his chair again, “I don’t know if you are even aware of this, but there exists in Missouri, the state of your birth, a national monument in your honor. This, sir, was the first national monument in the history of the United States established for a person of your color. But color has never been relevant. The race you represent is the human race. And we are the greater for having you a part of it.”
Churchill’s oration was typical of him. The words were formed beautifully and enunciated with passion. The subject of the discourse—George Washington Carver—was as awed as everyone else in the room. The prime minister’s ability to communicate was beyond extraordinary. Which was why they all laughed when Winston looked around and added at the end, “He did a lot of things with plants!”
When the laughter died down, Joan asked, “What did you do with plants, Dr. Carver? I’m sorry I don’t know, but I am curious.”
“Oh, dear child,” he said kindly, “there wasn’t much to it, really. I was just trying to help some farmers and ended up figuring a few extra ways to use what was already there.”
“Oh come on,” Eric snorted good-naturedly. “I know a little about you myself.” To Joan he said, “He created almost three hundred uses for the peanut and around about a hundred for the sweet potato. All those things are still being used today. Crop rotation, soybeans into plastic, cotton into paving blocks, wood chips into synthetic marble . . .”
Eric paused and thought for a moment, brightened, and said, “Got it. Listen to this. This quote is carved into the George Washington Carver monument: ‘He could have added fortune to fame, but caring for neither, he found happiness and honor in being helpful to the world.’” Popping his hand on the top of the table, Eric added, “That, my friends, is character.”
“That, my friends,” Carver said with a chuckle, “is enough about me.”
Ignoring Carver for the moment, Winston stared hard at Eric and asked, “That last part . . . the quote. How did you remember that?”
Eric replied with a grin. “Mr. Prime Minister, you aren’t the only person who has read books. And as for remembering, I have ‘total recall’ with regard to maps, plans, anything written down. Remembering things is what I do.”
“Hmm. Yes,” Winston said darkly. Grinning suddenly and jabbing a thumb toward Carver, he said, “Quite a reputation, eh?”
Carver frowned slightly. “If I may . . . ,” he said. Noting his expression, they all grew attentive. “While I appreciate so much your kind words, I feel I must insert here a reminder that it is not reputation about which one should be concerned. It is character. I cannot stress this enough.
“What must humanity do, individually and collectively, to restore itself to the pathway toward successful civilization? The answer, I believe we agree, is that we must build character. We must build character in our children. We must build character in ourselves. We must insist upon the presence of character in our leadership—insist upon it! Does not history show us that our leaders are a critical part—perhaps the critical part—of humanity’s journey on any pathway that has ever been traveled? One person leads us upon one pathway, while another leader might choose an entirely different direction.
“So please, let us remember that it is character—not reputation—that is the answer. If we build character, our reputations will take care of themselves.”
“True,” Lincoln said. “Reputation is merely what others think you might be. Character is what w
e really are. Character is what a man is in the dark.”
David said, “I am excited about this. I think we have it. But before we move to close this up, let’s talk a bit more about character itself. How is it determined? How is it built?”
Joan said, “I believe that my character—whatever that may be—is a result of the wisdom I have sought, the people with whom I associate, how I choose to spend my time, and the discipline I impose upon my attitude.” After pausing to think, she added, “I think my character is the sum total of my habits.”
“Nothing shows a person’s character more than his habits,” King David agreed.
“The things that amuse a person reveal much,” Eric tossed in. “What you laugh at, what you cry about, what disgusts you or doesn’t . . . I am telling you,” he said, “that the way people see the world and react to their fellow man is a huge indication of their character.”
They all looked at each other, and from the audience, a smattering of applause became a roar. Everyone at the table smiled in relief and anticipation. When the applause died away, David looked at everyone. “This is it,” he said. “Does anyone have anything to add before we call Gabriel?”
“I think you’ve done a marvelous job,” Winston said. “You’ve hit the right note leading this bunch.” To the others, he asked, “Don’t you think?”
“Absolutely,” Joan said. “And thank you, sir,” she added to Carver.
Accepting Joan’s gratitude, Carver deflected it. “Certainly, this was a group effort. I changed nothing . . . just added a small piece to the puzzle.” He looked to the audience, and as he did, David stood and applauded those in the theater seats. The others—even the king—joined in to show appreciation for their contribution.
“I am ready with the answer,” David said a few minutes later.
As the door opened and Gabriel entered, David asked Carver if he would do the honor of making the final presentation. But no, as was his wont, the humble man deferred. “You do this, David,” he said. “We have all been a part of it, but we want you to deliver the remedy to this challenge.” The others smiled and nodded their agreement.
