Louis JANISSE died . He married Amanda MARENTETTE.
Amanda MARENTETTE [Parents] was born on 7 Sep 1890. She died . She married Louis JANISSE.
Charles Joseph Antoine BADICHON DIT LABADIE [Parents] was born on 18 Apr 1850 in Paw Paw, Van Buren County, Michigan. He died on 7 Oct 1933 in Detroit, Wayne County, Michigan. He married Sophie ARCHAMBEAU on 14 Oct 1877 in St. Alphonse Catholic Church, Windsor, Ontario, Canada.
Special Collections Library
University of Michigan
Birth and Early Life
Jo Labadie was both the great grandson and the great-great grandson of Antoine Louis Descompte dit Labadie, who was born in Montréal in 1730 and moved to the French fortress town of Detroit at the age of 10. He apparently sired 33 children among three wives, and with additional large families in the second generation, it became common for Labadie cousins in the Michigan-Ontario area to intermarry. Antoine Louis's second wife, Marie, said to be the daughter of an Ojibway chief, was Jo's great-great grandmother, and his third wife, Charlotte, was Jo's great grandmother.
Antoine Louis purchased a plot of land in Sandwich, Ontario in 1767 and moved there with his wife Marie, who died around 1784. This farm, with a windmill, stayed in the family until 1856, when a grandson representing the nine surviving children of Antoine Louis's first wife sold more than half the property to Hiram Walker, who built a distillery and mill there in 1857. The success of Walker's company town resulted in the naming of the area "Walkerville."
Louis Descompte dit Labadie, a son of Antoine Louis and Charlotte, had a daughter, Euphrosyne Angelique Labadie, who was Jo's mother. In 1849 Euphrosyne married her distant cousin Antoine (Anthony) Cleophis Labadie (great grandson of Antoine Louis and Marie), of Paw Paw, Michigan. Charles Joseph (Jo) Antoine Labadie, the eldest of their children, was born in Paw Paw on April 18, 1850. After the birth, the family moved to the Labadie estate on the Canadian side of the Detroit River where they lived in peace with the neighboring native people of Walpole Island. When Jo was six or seven, his family, being the dispossessed branch, was forced to move off the property in Ontario when it was sold to Hiram Walker, and they settled near his father's hometown of Paw Paw.
Jo's father, Anthony Cleophis, was most at home living in the wilderness, and was probably pleased to be made to vacate the Labadie estate and move his family back to the woods of southwestern Michigan. Having lived among the Native Americans in the forests of Michigan since the age of 14, he was uneasy with village life. He often took Jo on hunting expeditions or trips for which he served as interpreter between the Native Americans and Jesuit missionaries. This was the life that impressed young Jo, and that he remembered with fondness. Many of his poems ( 16, 17) and reminiscences reveal a passionate sentiment for this simple but fulfilling existence. Ultimately Jo's father could not subdue his wandering spirit and love of the wilderness, and in 1869 left his family and settled in Kalkaska in the northern lower peninsula of Michigan.
As the eldest child in a large and poor family, Jo became the mainstay of his mother and of his agreeable but feckless father. When adolescence neared, and with it the possibility of a more substantial livelihood, Jo was first sent to learn watchmaking with an uncle. After a year he left, being attracted to the hurly-burly of an apprenticeship in a printing shop with its lively discussion of the issues of the day. Printing was the profession he practiced for some twenty-five years, until ill health forced him to seek another livelihood. He remained a printer ( 34, 35) by avocation for the rest of his life.
Marriage and Family
Jo Labadie and Sophie Archambeau were married after an ardent courtship on October 14, 1877, at St. Alphonse's Catholic Church in Windsor. As first cousins, they were obliged to obtain a special dispensation. Despite Sophie's piety and Jo's agnosticism, their differences in religious faith did not diminish the regard they had for each other.
Their first child, Leo Donatus, was born in 1879 but lived only seventeen months. No information is known about his death. The birth of two daughters and one son followed: Laura Euphrosyne in 1886, Charlotte Antoinette in 1889, and Laurance Cleophis in 1898. The only child of the third generation was Carlotta, daughter of Charlotte Antoinette Labadie and her husband, Fred Hauser. Carlotta Hauser Anderson is the author of the biography of her grandfather, All-American Anarchist: Joseph A. Labadie and the Labor Movement (Wayne State University Press, 1998).
Sophie was a teacher who, unlike most women of her generation, continued in her profession after marriage. Jo gave her credit for bridging the gaps in his education.
In 1912, Jo's wealthy friend Carl Schmidt purchased 40 acres of land for the Labadie family, some thirty miles north of Detroit, off Grand River Road in Livingston County. This became the Labadies" summer home, and Jo built several structures ( 61, 67) on it for the purpose of providing a summer retreat for working people who could not afford private resorts and cottages. This venture proved more effort than the Labadies were able to handle, but they hosted many guests and friends throughout their years at Bubbling Waters, as the retreat came to be known.
Among the buildings Jo built were a cabin, a barn, a henhouse and a press shop where he worked and stored his printing press. Jo and Sophie committed themselves to setting up Bubbling Waters as a refuge from an increasingly noisy and congested Detroit. They returned to their home and family in Detroit during the winter months where Jo was able to resume his job at the Water Works.
In addition, Jo's brothers Oliver and Hubert, both entertainers ( 8, 11), purchased 300 acres of adjacent land and opened a film studio, the Labadie-Detroit Motion Picture Company ( 12, 13). Here several early silent films were made, including Three Bad Men (1915), The Rich Slave (1921), The First Woman (1922), and Then Came the Woman (1926). Famous Hollywood actors of the time could be seen there on location. The Labadie Collection owns a video print of the only extant Labadie film, a 62-minute segment of Then Came the Woman. This segment includes a forest fire scene which, according to one Labadie descendent, was started by pouring gasoline along the proposed path of the fire. Jo's brother, Francis, was also a professional entertainer at that time, and ran a company called the Labadie Lecture and Amusement Bureau.
The land at Bubbling Waters was passed down to Jo and Sophie's children, Laura, Charlotte, and Laurance, and in 1941 was deeded to the county to be preserved as parkland. Today, the Kensington Metropark Nature Center displays artifacts and information about the Labadie home, and although long since ravaged by time, remnants of the foundation of the cabin can still be seen along the Aspen Trail.
Labadie's later years were spent publishing new booklets on his old printing press, which was by that time considered antiquated but quaint. Forced to retire from his job at the Water Works Department in 1920, Labadie had no pension. Jo and Sophie again relied on the benevolence of their friend Carl Schmidt, whom they often visited at his vacation home, "Walhalla," ( 132, 133) on Lake Huron.
After Sophie died in 1931, their son, Laurance, spent the next two summers with Jo at Bubbling Waters, and in 1932 took him to visit the Labadie Collection at the University of Michigan one final time. Jo Labadie died ( 71, 80) on October 7, 1933, at Receiving Hospital in Detroit. He was 83 years old. He insisted on a simple funeral with no ceremony, although all his surviving friends attended. Jo and Sophie are buried side by side in Parkview Cemetery near Detroit, at Five Mile and Farmington Roads. In keeping with their tradition of simplicity and modesty in their lives, no stones mark their graves.
"It's a hard matter to 'line up' the Labadies. I cannot make out your family to my satisfaction... I cannot find out where Mr. Francis Labadie of Macomb County comes in. He moved to Macomb County about 1814 or 1815, and as Father Richard excommunicated him, he sued the Priest and got a judgment for $1600. Much trouble followed."
C. M. Burton to Joseph Labadie, November 30, 1917
On Cranky Notions: "These notions will occasionally be to some people like stroking the fur of an animal in the wrong direction, but I shall ask no one's advice as to what to say or how to say it... I shall write to please no one but myself, and if it please others, well and good. I hope to be able to write only the truth and to reason well."
Jo Labadie, The Sun, date unknown
Sophie ARCHAMBEAU died . She married Charles Joseph Antoine BADICHON DIT LABADIE on 14 Oct 1877 in St. Alphonse Catholic Church, Windsor, Ontario, Canada.
They had the following children:
M i Leo Donatus BADICHON DIT LABADIE was born in 1879. He died in 1881. F ii Laura Euphrosyne BADICHON DIT LABADIE was born in 1886. She died . F iii Charlotte Antoinette BADICHON DIT LABADIE M iv Laurance Cleophas BADICHON DIT LABADIE was born on 4 Jun 1898 in Detroit, Wayne County, Michigan. He died on 12 Aug 1975.
From the archives of The Memory Hole
Individualist Anarchism: Laurence Labadie
The following is James J. Martin's own introduction to a pamphlet from the Libertarian Broadsides Series, titled Laurance Labadie: Selected Essays.
Special announcement: As of February 1997, anarchist literature from the estate of Laurence Labadie is going on sale. Go here for further information.
WE NEVER CALLED HIM "LARRY": A REMINISCENCE OF LAURANCE LABADIE, WITH SOME NECESSARY ADDITIONAL COMMENTS ABOUT OUR MUTUAL FRIEND, AGNES INGLIS
The death of Laurance Labadie on August 12, 1975, in his 78th year, removed from the scene the last direct link to Benjamin R. Tucker, and amounted to the virtual closure and the last episode in the socio-economic impulse which became known in the early decades of the 20th century as "Mutualism." This blending of the ideas of Josiah Warren, P. J. Proudhon, William B. Greene, and Tucker, along with peripheral contributions from Stephen Pearl Andrews, Ezra Heywood, and additional embellishments of others less well known, was succinctly elucidated in the 1927 Vanguard editions What Is Mutualism? and Proudhon's Solution of the Social Problem, by Clarence Lee Swartz and Henry Cohen, respectively. From the early 1930s Laurance Labadie was the most polished exponent of this ideological tradition, his articulateness being commended by Tucker himself, in a dedication to a photograph he presented to Laurance dated September 6, 1936.
Laurance was born in Detroit on June 4, 1898. His father was Joseph A. Labadie, a celebrated figure in Detroit labor and radical activities, an almost lifelong associate of Tucker, and founder of the famed collection of printed and manuscript materials which has been housed in the Library of the University of Michigan under his name for over two generations. The family descended from mixed French and Indian stock which had settled in the Great Lakes region since the 17th century penetration of the area by the famed trappeurs and coureurs de bois. The Indian blood in the family undoubtedly had become extremely attenuated by Laurance's time, but it was part of his ancestry which he continually referred to with pride, and undoubtedly romanticized, while doing so. However, I remember spending time on several occasions examining thick albums of ancient photographs of the family, noting the reappearance generation after generation of short, stocky men, some with rather pronounced Indian physiognomy. In any case, Laurance was proud of both these ancestral strains, probably emphasized to him as time passed because he was the last of the line and sole survivor bearing the Labadie name. His only living relative is a married niece, daughter of one of his two sisters.
Laurance was the most unusual self-taught and intellectually self-disciplined person I have ever met. He learned to think and write over a long period of lonely years, perfecting his style and skills in solitary study. His teachers via literature were Tucker and the galaxy of writers in Tucker's journal, Liberty (1881-1908), Proudhon, Warren, and a substantial coterie of obscure and mainly unpublished controversialists with whom he corresponded on politico-economic themes for 40 years. But Tucker was his primary model, and he compared favorably to Tucker in clarity of expression several times.
Laurance as a letter-writer developed the most fiercely logical and precise style I have ever read, with an exceptional economy of words and absence of extraneous padding. But this characterized his other writing as well, a lengthy string of essays, very few of which were ever published. As he observed to me in his letter of May 28, 1948, "Clear and simple writing is the most difficult, if only for the reason that clear and simple thinking is so rare, and bluffing via nebulousness so easy." A related remark, which I heard from him several times, was, "When you get in deeper water you use bigger words."
The singular thing about Laurance was that he was not a professional writer or an academically-trained 'intellectual'; his formal education had barely taken him into high school, from which he thought he had providentially 'escaped' (even though secondary schools were formidable 65 years ago compared to what they are now). Unrelated even remotely to the pedagogical world of talk and print, he was essentially a skilled worker, one of the very first rank of tool makers in Detroit for years, with an accumulation of related skills which gained him the reputation of prime craftsmanship in anything he undertook. To appreciate the quality and excellence of his work one must take into consideration some of the difficulties under which men worked in the 1920s and early 1930s, before the electronic revolution, when men eyeballed tolerances of a ten thousandth of an inch. Among his talents were all the building trades: the rebuilding of much of the property he occupied for 25 years at Suffern, N.Y. (about which more later) demonstrated that. His shop on these premises was a model of compact, logical organization, even after he had become very careless about his personal affairs and habits. Here he preserved some examples of his tool-making prowess, which can only be described as exquisite.
In addition to all this, Laurance learned to set type and to operate a small job press, inherited from his father, and which the latter had used for several decades in printing his own small literary achievements, including a great deal of verse, issued sometimes in remarkable little editions often printed on the reverse side of wallpaper. This tradition of self-publication Laurance carried on for years, and a stream of small works issued from the basement of 2306 Buchanan Street, painstakingly set from fonts of tiny type by hand, locked up and run off on the small printing press. The first three essays in this collection were first produced in this manner. In the course of becoming acquainted with his father's libary, that part of it which had not been dispatched to Ann Arbor, Laurance not only learned writing style and his father's artistic achievements as a printer and publisher, but served as a preserver of several of the signal works of the individualist-anarchist tradition going back to the early 19th century; his editions of Tucker and John Badcock were especially praiseworthy.
But all this was what Laurance Labadie did in his spare time. He joined the labor force during the First World War, and began a substantial stint in the automotive industry with a job at the old Continental Motors out on East Jefferson Avenue in Detroit in 1918. He subsequently worked as well for Studebaker, Ford, and Chevrolet, in the latter becoming part of the team of advanced experimental mechanical specialists who worked closely with the designers, during the early 1920s. But Laurance changed jobs frequently, and tolerated little stupidity from foremen or other superiors. It was ironic that though he spent so many years working in the automotive industry, he never learned how to drive a car. (It was believed that Tucker never even rode in one.) Laurance worked in a number of shops during the Second World War, saved his money, and thereafter was never again employed in work involving his primary competence. Much of my personal contact with him occurred in the following five years, during which time I was pursuing graduate degrees or teaching at the University of Michigan.
The first time I met Laurance, he came out to Ann Arbor on a bus, and we conversed for a goodly span of time in the south cafeteria of the Michigan Union, where most of our conversations in the late 1940s took place. He liked the environment, with its semi-darkness and its massive oak tables carved with the initials of generations of students, and radiating a rather formidable atmosphere of respect for tradition. Here one rarely was heard to raise his voice, and there were days when there was more genuine intellectual traffic at its tables than the University's combined classrooms. Laurance loved coffee, and occasionally talked about another coffee-lover, John Basil Barnhill, editor of a famous journal of the Tucker era, The Eagle and the Serpent. (Henry Meulen, the editor in London of The Individualist, probably the only organ in the world advocating monetary ideas close to those of the Proudhon-Tucker-Labadie sort, once told a story of losing touch with Barnhill after years of contact, and then getting a cryptic postcard from him, from a Detroit hospital, which simply said, "Dear Meulen: coffee is the devil. Yours Barnhill.")
Laurance had been alerted about me by Agnes Inglis, the curator of the collection of materials housed in the general library on campus which bore the name of Laurance's father. My sustained burrowing and endless questions apparently indicated that I was serious about it all, though Laurance was somewhat wary on our first contact, long acquainted with dilettantes whose principal characteristic was the ability to ruin a good topic or subject. It did not take long to convince him I was not fooling and thenceforth we met regularly, in "the Collection," as we called it, in the Union, and on occasion at his home in Detroit on Buchanan Street. His home was easy to reach by bus from Ann Arbor. One rode it to the Detroit terminal on Grand River Avenue, then took the Grand River local out to Buchanan, got off and walked three blocks south to 18th Street; #2306 was on the corner.
Laurance's personal library was formidable, duplicating many things in the depository in Ann Arbor, but made more remarkable by his impressive correspondence files. Even at meals we 'worked,' I doing the cooking while Laurance read to me from copies of his letters to such as Henry Cohen, Gold O'Bay or E. C. Riegel and many others who became embroiled in the seemingly interminable matching especially of monetary ideas. It was this correspondence which first made me appreciate his fierce pursuit of logic and improved expression, which resulted in more clear thinking and straight writing than I have encountered from anyone else but Tucker over the year
But we inevitably graviated to "the Collection," as most people who knew of it usually referred to it. The mark of Laurance's father "Jo" was all over it, but it had grown enormously in the more than four decades since its creation, mainly as a consequence of the tireless labors and around-the-clock devotion to Agnes Inglis, its curator until her death in 195
Laurance and Agnes were the first and virtually the only enthusiastic supporters I found for the writing project which eventually appeared as Men Against the State, in the five years between the completion of its first draft and its first publication. Laurance read it all for the first time in the late spring of 1949, and wrote me on June 26 of that year. "I doubt whether anyone will ever do a better job on the subject you've tackled."
Agnes was so obviously a partisan of the manuscript that it made me self-conscious, but it was a vast boost to have such unqualified support from people who knew so much about the subject as these two, and who personally knew and had known several of those figuring in the study. It provided at times a kind of eerie feeling of having been involved personally from the start as well, a feeling which was much expanded after a research residence of several weeks in New Harmony, Indiana, and another later on a Brentwood, Long Island.
Laurance had seen parts of the first three chapters dealing with Josiah Warren in 1947, and we spent some time in correspondence and conversation about Warren's ideas and activities. He remarked that after I had reported on my findings at New Harmony that he had learned more about Warren from me than I had learned from him, but I was inclined to believe that it all about evened out. And contributing to our discussions when they occurred in "the Collection" was Agnes, who responded with the radiant energy of a teenager to our ongoing reconstruction of this long-neglected story.
I guess Laurance and I both loved "Aggie," as we sometimes called her, but in our own company only. (When people started calling Laurance "Larry" I do not know, but it was after he had left Michigan. Agnes never referred to him at any time in any way except "Laurance," and everyone I ever met who knew him in the 1940s in Michigan did the same. Though his father had been known by nearly all by the affectionalte "Jo," addressing his son as "Larry" always struck me as similar to calling Tucker "Benny.") but as to Agnes, both of us in our own personal, introverted, repressed and unexpressed ways, showed our affection through deeds instead of words. I guess there was nothing either of us would not have done for her, but she was not an easy person to do things for. It took her nearly eight years to call me by the familiar name used by all my associates, and no matter how informal things got, there was always a part of her kept in reserve. Laurance had known her for many years before I made her acquaintance, in 1943.
We occasionally went to lunch together in the Michigan League, and if the steps of the main library were icy, she would allow us to take her arm, but only until we had passed the treacherous spots; to do otherwise would have been an indication that she was no longer independent and capable of taking care of herself, even when approaching 80. That was important to her. I can remember a considerable succession of Sunday night vegetarian collations in her apartment near the U-M campus, listening to her recall ancient and exciting days, and her personal recollections of Emma Goldman, Hippolyte Havel, John Beverly Robinson and many others, among a formidable 'mist procession of related notables; active in radical circles since World War I, she knew more people in that world than most others even read about. (The meal was almost always the same: a spread of cold cooked vegetables, especially lots of carrots, hard-boiled eggs, and a dessert of dark wheat bread toast and cherry jam, and tea. I used to spoof her mildly about her vegetarian convictions against killing animals to eat, and she acknowledged that she did break ranks by wearing leather shoes. Had she lived into the plastic revolution she might have been able to eschew even leather footwear and enjoy the last laugh on me. But she was adamant in her refusal to bless any political system for the same reason she enjoined killing animals for food: she was against any and all political solutions achieved by murder, even if such a goal was to be achieved by just one murder.)
In a letter she wrote on the evening of October 28, 1951 (a Sunday, and probably the result of thinking about our Sunday night ritual meals of the past), she remarked, "I'm 81-nearly-and frail and don't work as I have worked, but it makes everything all right. My life is full." By that time Laurance had relocated at Suffern and I was in northern Illinois. We never had another gathering in Ann Arbor; Agnes Inglis died there January 29, 1952.
Perhaps the most painful piece of writing I ever had to put together was obituarial recollection I wrote about her for David T. Wieck's occasional journal Resistance. In a routine physical examination a short time before, she was discovered to have a mild diabetic condition, and probably was worried to death by the news. She wrote me repeatedly how demeaning she felt it to be to have to visit the huge University hospital, and leaving with the feeling that she had been dealt with like a piece of furniture. My memoir was not published until the August, 1953 issue of the journal, and Laurance did not comment on it until in a letter of October 20 of that year. With characteristic feigned detachment he wrote, "I read your article on Agnes. Wieck liked it. I wrote him that you were the only person I know of who was able to write anything about her." As this introduction was taking shape, it was realized that this entire project needed this tribute to her from me, to round it out properly, and it is reprinted here as an appendix, for the first time in a quarter of a century. But for some years Laurance and I continued to speak of her as though she was still around. "The Collection" was something we talked about to the very end, even during my visit with him at Suffern in November, 1973. Most of his library went there in 1976.
An intellectual relationship with Laurance Labadie was an education in itself. Conversationally or via correspondence, he would eat you alive at the faintest sign of wavering of intelligence. The injunction against tolerating fools was something he took very seriously. One of the surest cures for an attack of the stupids, many found out, was a tangle with Laurance. As a writer, his unpretentious, stripped-down, to-the-point style (which Tucker probably would have been delighted to print in Liberty decades before), was not maimed by academic bafflegab and the waffling resulting from the fence-straddling paralysis induced by the bogus "objectivity" disease of 'hire' education, contracted from training in the sophisticated concealment of opinions behind the technical disguise of simulated aloofness or disengagement.
Laurance had always developed his economic and politico-social ideas uncluttered with theological constructs such as "natural rights," "natural law," "objective morality," and the like, a large part of these and related ideas stemming from a power position occupied by their exponents, and utterly unamenable to any kind of proof, as is the case with all religious assertions, a circumstance which accounts for the interminable arguing which all such positions encourage, and for the never-ending contumaciousness which always attends the contentions that result. (If a case for a rational and equitable libertarian order cannot be structured without recourse to religious props, then the field might just as well be abandoned to the irrationalists and it be admitted that a world ungoverned by spooks is an utter impossibility. The polemics of economics are drenched in theological postures; the earnest exposures of one another's "errors" is done in language reminiscent of religious broadsides of the early 17th century, and fanciful theses concerning likely economic behavior in the future or in defense of systems which have never seen the light of day nor are likely ever to do so are advocated with a heat comparable to that which attended the controversies of early Christianity over the nature of Transsubstantiation.)
Of all the areas of economic theory, Laurance preferred to expand upon money. After Warren, and especially Proudhon and Tucker, he respected only two modern money theorists, Hugo Bilgram and E. C. Riegel. Bilgram's The Cause of Business Depressions (New York: 1913, reprinted, Bombay, India, 1950) and Riegel's Free Enterprise Money (New York, 1944) were the only works he ever recommended to me to read. He knew Riegel personally and though he thought him the best after Bilgram, nevertheless he and Riegel engaged in sustained correspondence over points in the latter's book which were considered unclear.
It is interesting that one of the two principal modern seers of the "Austrian" school of economic theory, Friedrich Hayek, has now come around to a variant of the proposals of these and other private money exponents in the past, to the dismay of his followers, long enmeshed in the dogmas of the gold standard. (An excellent summary of Hayek's Denationalization of Money was made by the veteran libertarian econonmist Prof. Oscar W. Cooley, titled "Nobel Prize Winner Would Privatize Money," in Colorado Springs Gazette Telegraph, April 26, 1978, p.7-B.) In actuality, the entire individualist anti-statist position from Warren and Proudhon to the present is inextricably tied into the insistence on the necessity of competing money systems and the evolution of marketplace control over money, credit and interest rates. It is still too strong medicine for most 'libertarians,' who persist in dogged devotion to the gold standard, which is essentially a formula for a different brand of State-controlled money, run in collusion between sly State finance ministers and the major holders of gold, tying currency to a gold price fixed by agreement, and made invulnerable to the free trade in gold and consequent frequent periodic adjustments in the light of changing gold prices, by force. That this results in a money system not much different in total effect from existing fiat money systems is obvious; says Prof. Cooley, "Our dollar today, in fact, is more truly a freedom dollar than the gold standard dollar [of the past] was." The evolution of the modern State suggest that a neo-gold-standard dollar would produce an even worse situation than the now-fashionable State-manipulated issuance of unsecured paper.
I listened to many of Laurance's monologues on money theory, some of them even for some time on the telephone, only contributing my approach at the end, which was usually expressed in the simple declaration that "Money is something that will buy something," for which I was reproached for neglecting the function of money as a "store of value" and concentrating only on its function as a "medium of exchange." But he admitted that mine was surely the concern of the overwhelming majority of the people of the world. (A recent promotional piece distributed by a venerable investment brokerage house in Colorado states as a fact that of every 100 persons who reach the age of 65 in the USA, 95 of them are "flat broke.")
Perhaps I became too much of a 'Stirnerite' for Laurance. He never came to terms with Tucker's abandonment of economic and financial analysis for Stirner, and mainly tried to treat the situation as one in which Tucker's views and enthusiasms between 1881 and 1901 were all that one needed to go on. My similar waning interest in economic and money theory changed much of the nature of our communications as I gradually moved to the Pacific Coast for a decade as Laurance settled on the Atlantic. There were times when the distance separating us resulted in sustained periods of silence from both ends. In 1951 and again in 1956 I spent from late spring to early fall in nine European countries. During the first of these Laurance was laboring mightily to bring the Borsodi property, the old School of Living of the 1930s, in Suffern, into the kind of shape he wanted it to be in. I wrote him on my return, remarking that we were getting to be rather irregular correspondents. In his hasty undated reply he commented, "Yes, we've been paying about as much attention to each other as couple of brothers," while concluding, "Please tell me something about your jaunt around Urup." On the other hand there were occasions when something of mutual interest touched off a stream of dispatches back and forth. Though our personal meetings ended our other contacts made things seem as though we had never parted ways, and our more substantial exchanges concerned more the larger issues and the general circumstances attending what might be called "man's lot."
This had to be, because I was convinced that wrangling over theoretical economics was a wearisome futility, and that the ideas of economists were like those of evangelists: unprovable; one either believed them or one did not. My own experiences as a 'businessman' in the latter half of the '60s indicated to me that such things as prices were mainly psychological and a reflection more of the warfare of wills among buyers and sellers than they were of 'supply and demand' factors and production costs, frequently plucked out of thin air on an experimental basis, and sometimes arbitrarily raised, not lowered, when the product did not sell. The subject of money was similarly to be understood through psychological explanation rather than through the turning over of the tenets of theorists. Something with no intrinsic value at all was functioning as the monetary basis of the largest part of the world's surface, including the USA, simply because it was acceptable to the great majority through whose hands it passed, and in full knowledge that it had no 'redeemable' content or quality. I am still waiting for a credible explanation why a worthless material may serve as the medium of exchange among hundreds of millions for many scores of years, such a circumstance being basically uninfluenced by the hostile bellows of its critics. (The volume of literature and talk pouring out in denunciation of the money system is absolutely paralyzing in its enormity, yet this unbelievable industry amounts to little that is perceptible in the form of change; the multitudes go on exchanging goods and services for this money with barely a murmur, the whole tableau made a little humorous by the eagerness of the denouncers of the "worthless paper" to accept large amounts of it for things they have for sale, ranging from scarce substances like gold to newsletters informing the buyers that the money they use is "no good." This kind of analysis makes sophisticates smile, but they in turn are still trying to tell us how an economy functions like the man trying to explain how a gun operates by pointing to the smoke emerging from the end of the barrel after it has been fired
When it came to ruminations concerning the 'big picture,' we got on somewhat better, particularly in the decade of the '60s. A matter which we occasionally dwelled upon, but on which Laurance did not write other than peripherally and indirectly, was the zero record of any government solving unemployment and inflation simultaneously. Economic history did not reveal, so far as either of us could recall, a case where these two situations had ever been tackled at the same time and successfully solved; they were always taken on seriatim, and reversed when palliatives to relieve one of them exacerbated the other, requiring a turnaround of attention, and vice versa. In the 20th century there had been only emergency authoritarian regimes which had grappled with both problems at once, though the apparent degree of success had really resulted in only cosmetic solutions, producing repressed inflation and repressed unemployment via various degrees of massive governmental intervention; it was only war which seemed to come to the rescue.
Few people were more aware than Laurance that private enterprise and free enterpise are anything but synonyms, which Tucker had discussed in different terminology and under different circumstance in his famous discourse of the trusts in 1899. As for the more recent period, for nearly 60 years an army of professional anti-communists had posed the problem in Persian opposites of capitalist children of light and communist demons of darkness. But in the late 1960s they suddenly discovered that Big Industry, Big Finance, Big Commerce, and Big Agriculture (the latter controlled by the other three) got along famously with Big Communism, and that there were more unions and union members hostile to communism than there were among the opulent and the plutocratic. Then there began the serious investigation of global collusion among them, and the attention to the Bilderbergers and the Trilateral Commission, and related international string-pullers. Laurance's analysis cut through to the core of the affair well before any of the eloquent mouthpieces of the Right or Left intellectual establishment stumbled across the situation, and elaborated their topical versio
There was one matter to which we returned many times, one which had nothing to do with current affairs, world politics and national programs. This was the train of thought loosed in a celebrated book titled Might Is Right, or the Survival of the Fittest, first published in 1898 under a pseudonym, "Ragnar Redbeard," whom no one has ever identified with any certitude. It is surely one of the most incendiary works ever to be published anywhere, and was subsequently reprinted in England in 1910, and two more times in the USA, in 1927 and as recently as 1972. Laurance gave me several copies of this over the years inclduing a hardbound copy which contained his marginal comments growing out of our various discussions, in his tiny and precise handwriting, almost all in red ink. In the late '40s we drifted to this work and its various theses on several occasions, and repeatedly thereafter.
"I am still waiting for a credible explanation why a worthless material may serve as the medium of exchange among hundreds of millions for many scores of years, such a circumstance being basically uninfluenced by the hostile bellows of its critics."
Wilfred NANTAIS [Parents] died . He married Mary Philomene MAJOR.
Mary Philomene MAJOR died . She married Wilfred NANTAIS.
They had the following children:
M i Ulysse NANTAIS M ii Henry NANTAIS died . M iii Ernest NANTAIS died . M iv Andrew NANTAIS died . M v Francis NANTAIS died . F vi Clara NANTAIS F vii Cecile NANTAIS F viii Isabelle NANTAIS
Charles Daniel NANTAU [Parents] was born 1 on 15 Nov 1878 in Windsor, Essex County, Ontario. He died . He was buried in Michigan. He married Edith NANTAU.
Edith NANTAU died . She married Charles Daniel NANTAU.
Edith Nantau's maiden name is not known.
Henry Nicholas NANTAIS [Parents] was born on 6 Feb 1881 in Windsor, Ontario, Canada. He died in 1957 in Windsor, Ontario, Canada. He was buried in Windsor Grove Cemetery, Windsor, Ontario, Canada. He married Emma NANTAIS. Henry was baptized on 25 Mar 1881 in St. Alphonsus Church, Windsor, Ontario.
Emma NANTAIS died . She married Henry Nicholas NANTAIS.
The maiden name for Emma Nantais is not known.
Ernest Isaac NANTAU [Parents] was born on 24 Mar 1884 in Windsor, Ontario, Canada. He died on 24 Dec 1963 in Windsor, Ontario, Canada. He was buried in Windsor Grove Cemtery, Windsor, Ontario, Canada. He married Lucy Louise WINSLADE on 15 Apr 1909 in All Saint's Church, Windsor, Ontario, Canada. Ernest was baptized on 24 Nov 1885 in St Adolphus Church, Windsor, Ontario, Canada.
Lucy Louise WINSLADE was born on 24 Nov 1886 in Liverpool, England. She died on 17 Apr 1960 in Windsor, Ontario, Canada. She was buried on 20 Apr 1960 in Windsor Grove Cemtery, Windsor, Ontario, Canada. She married Ernest Isaac NANTAU on 15 Apr 1909 in All Saint's Church, Windsor, Ontario, Canada.
They had the following children:
M i Ernest Jr. NANTAU was born in 1910 in Windsor Grove Cemtery, Windsor, Ontario, Canada. He died in 1911 in Windsor Grove Cemtery, Windsor, Ontario, Canada. He was buried in Windsor Grove Cemtery, Windsor, Ontario, Canada. M ii Harold John Charles NANTAU F iii Florence Myrtle NANTAU M iv Gordon Lawrence NANTAU
Charles BROOKS died on 15 Aug 1972. He married Ida May NANTAU.
Ida May NANTAU [Parents] was born on 10 Mar 1892 in Windsor, Ontario, Canada. She died on 6 Jul 1976 in Windsor, Ontario, Canada. She was buried on 9 Jul 1976 in Windsor Grove Cemtery, Windsor, Ontario Canada. She married Charles BROOKS.
Alexander NANTAIS [Parents] was born in 1893 in Windsor, Ontario, Canada. He died on 13 Feb 1919 in Windsor, Ontario, Canada. He was buried in Windsor Grove Cemtery, Windsor, Ontario, Canada. He married Lilly NANTAIS on 28 Jun 1911 in All Saint's Church, Windsor, Ontario, Canada.
Lilly NANTAIS died . She married Alexander NANTAIS on 28 Jun 1911 in All Saint's Church, Windsor, Ontario, Canada.
The maiden name for Lilly Nantais is not known.
Harold BANKS died in 1959 in Windsor, Ontario, Canada. He married Catherine NANTAIS.
Catherine NANTAIS [Parents] was born on 27 Sep 1897 in Windsor, Ontario, Canada. She died on 22 Feb 1991 in London, Ontario, Canada. She was buried in Victoria Memorial. She married Harold BANKS. Catherine was baptized on 24 Oct 1897 in St. Adolphus Church, Windsor, Ontario, Canada.
Samuel W. HILL died . He married Avis E. COGGESHALL.
Avis E. COGGESHALL died . She married Samuel W. HILL.
They had the following children:
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