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Learning in
Information-Rich
Environments
I-LEARN and the Construction of
Knowledge from Information
Second Edition
Learning in Information-Rich Environments
Delia Neuman • Mary Jean Tecce DeCarlo
Vera J. Lee • Stacey Greenwell • Allen Grant
Learning in Information-Rich
Environments
I-LEARN and the Construction
of Knowledge from Information
Second Edition
Delia Neuman Mary Jean Tecce DeCarlo
College of Computing and Informatics School of Education
Drexel University Drexel University
Philadelphia, PA, USA Philadelphia, PA, USA
Allen Grant
School of Education and Professional
Studies
SUNY-Potsdam
Potsdam, NY, USA
This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
For Michael Neuman
For Dan, Danielle, Casey, and Faith
DeCarlo
For Dave Kurz and Charis and Phoebe Wu
For Rick Drasch
For Kristin, Hunter, and Sophia Grant
Preface
The information environment has exploded since the first edition of this book
appeared in 2011, a little less than a decade ago. Not only have the amount and
kinds of information ballooned—all the ways in which information is created, dis-
seminated, manipulated, and interpreted have soared as well. Nevertheless, all of us
are still learners—as we were in 2011—and now we must navigate an even more
agitated sea of information to make sense of the world. From the time the cell phone
alarm beeps or chimes in the morning to the time the last tweet is received for the
night, we are flooded with information
• that asks us to pay attention (or gives us a way to vegetate),
• that invites us to distinguish the useful from the useless (or allows us to lose
ourselves in the fog), or
• that calls on us to create new products of our own (or encourages us to be passive
consumers of others’ ideas).
The information comes in all formats—print, visuals, music, talk, exhibits, digi-
tal files, and even odors. It comes through avenues as traditional as the daily news-
paper and television news and as modern as the latest blog or social media site. The
one characteristic that all the formats and avenues have in common is that they all
convey varieties of information. Together, they offer a tsunami of facts, ideas, and
opinions that we can access, evaluate, and use to build an understanding of the
world and of ourselves—that is, to learn.
The amount and range of information available to us today is unprecedented.
Phrases like “the information revolution,” “the information (or knowledge) society,”
“the knowledge economy,” and similar expressions underscore the truism that our
society has been transformed by virtually instantaneous access to virtually unlim-
ited stores of information. Thomas Friedman was among the first to tell us that the
world is flat (2005/2007) and that we must devise new political and economic
understandings based on the ceaseless communication of information from all cor-
ners of the world. Governments continue to tell us that information relating to
national security is so time-sensitive that we must allow new kinds of surveillance
to keep society safe. Teenage subscribers to social networks not only access
vii
viii Preface
information but enter text and video images and publish them widely—becoming
the first adolescents in history to be creators as well as consumers of vast quantities
of information.
If the characteristics of “the information age” demand new conceptions of com-
merce, national security, and publishing—among other things—it is logical to
assume that they carry implications for education as well. In fact, a good deal has
been written about how education as a whole must transform its structure and cur-
riculum to accommodate the possibilities offered by new technologies. Far less has
been written, however, about the specific implications of these technologies—and
the information they allow students (and all learners) to access and create—for the
central purpose of education: learning. What does “learning” mean in an information-
rich environment? What are its characteristics? What kinds of tasks should it
involve? What concepts, strategies, attitudes, and skills must educators and students
master to learn effectively and efficiently in such an environment? How can research-
ers, theorists, and practitioners foster the well-founded and widespread develop-
ment of such key elements of the learning process?
This book explores these questions and suggests some tentative answers. All its
original chapters have been revised—some quite extensively—and several new
chapters have been added to provide fresh insights. Chapter 1 still begins by por-
traying information not just as a collection of facts, ideas, and opinions but as a tool
for learning that provides the basic building blocks for critical thinking and problem
solving. Chapters 2 and 3 expand on their predecessors in the first edition to define
and describe the formal and informal information-rich environments that surround
us and to show how their evolution suggests a need for an expanded conception of
learning itself. Chapter 4 and new Chap. 5 paint an updated picture of learners as
“information users” and describe their needs and abilities for learning in information-
rich environments—particularly as elements of digital and critical literacies have
come to enrich the notion of “information literacy.” Chapter 6 (formerly Chap. 5)
draws on the core ideas found in the earlier chapters to provide a framework for
learning in the kinds of dynamic, information-rich environments available today
and to offer Neuman’s (2011a, b) I-LEARN model as a way to guide information-
based learning at the highest levels. Chapter 7 (formerly Chap. 6) closes the book’s
theoretical focus on learning in information-rich environments by discussing con-
temporary assessment approaches and describing how the model can serve as a tool
for evaluating learning in both formal and informal settings. New Chap. 8 draws on
all five authors’ research over the past several years to validate the I-LEARN model
in a variety of schools and at all levels of the educational system. This final chapter
completes the circle from theory to design to practice by illustrating how using the
model can help learners master the process of learning with information.
Today, information in all its vastness and variety provides the raw material for
the kind of learning that all of us must master as we encounter new realities in soci-
ety and in our personal lives. Indeed, the process of accessing, evaluating, using,
and creating information constitutes the “authentic learning” that contemporary
education promotes and that all of us must pursue throughout our lives. By explor-
ing some of the key ideas and issues related to learning with information at this
Preface ix
point in the information age, this book attempts to provide some insights and sug-
gestions that will help educators and those we serve make steady progress in that
pursuit.
The authors are indebted to many people for insights and encouragement that
played an essential role in creating this book. Delia Neuman is still deeply grateful
to all those cited in the original edition—especially to her husband Michael for his
continuing encouragement and support and to Kara Howland, whose illustrations
continue to grace this edition—and to the four coauthors whose hard work and solid
insights have given this revised edition a broader perspective, a deeper research
base, and far richer practical guidance than its predecessor was able to offer. Mary
Jean Tecce DeCarlo would like to thank her patient family and the wonderful real-
world teachers and students who inspired Chap. 8. Vera Lee would like to thank her
husband and children for their flexibility and understanding about late nights and
work weekends. Stacey Greenwell would like to thank her partner and best friend,
Rick Drasch, for all his support during this project, and Dr. Gary J. Anglin, her dis-
sertation advisor, for introducing her to Delia. Allen Grant would like to thank the
early adopters of I-LEARN for their enthusiasm and willingness to share their ideas,
materials, and students in order to advance the fields of information, digital, and
critical literacy. All the authors are utterly in debt to graduate assistant Aly Meloche,
whose substantive knowledge, technical skills, and quiet patience have been invalu-
able. Finally, Delia Neuman published the first edition of the book in 2011. Without
her vision, this updated book—and the I-LEARN-related research, presentations,
and publications noted here—would not have been possible. Her coauthors would
like to thank her for her invaluable mentorship and her scholarly generosity.
Any errors in the book belong, of course, to the authors; any value it offers is
attributable to many others as well.
Reference
Friedman, T. (2007). The world is flat. New York: Farrar, Strauss, and Giroux. (Original work
published 2005)
Neuman, D. (2011a). Constructing knowledge in the 21st century: I-LEARN and using infor-
mation as a tool for learning. School Library Media Research, 14. Available at http://www.
ala.org/aasl/sites/ala.org.aasl/files/content/aaslpubsandjournals/slr/vol14/SLR_Constructing
Knowledge_V14.pdf
Neuman, D. (2011b). Learning in information-rich environments: I-LEARN and the construction
of knowledge in the 21st century. New York: Spinger
Contents
xi
xii Contents
xvii
xviii List of Figures
Over a 100 years ago, the philosopher William James described the infant’s view of
the world as a “big, blooming, buzzing confusion” that enveloped his or her mind
(1890, p. 488). If he were writing today, James might conclude that information is the
“buzzing confusion” that seems to suffuse our every waking moment. In fact, many
authors have provided colorful interpretations of “information”: we have all heard that
“information is power,” and McCandless (2012) told us that “information is beautiful”
(http://www.informationisbeautiful.net). President Ronald Reagan once referred to
information as “the oxygen of the modern age” that “seeps through the walls topped
by barbed wire [and] wafts across the electrified borders” (London Guardian 1989,
June 14). T.S. Eliot, musing in 1934 on behalf of many humanists facing the modern
age, offered perhaps the most famous questions of all about the nature and role of
information: “Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowl-
edge we have lost in information?” (1962, p. 96).
Every scholarly and professional field defines “information” in ways that con-
note its own particular needs and foci. For medicine, information includes vital
signs, data on drug interactions, and test results; for journalism, it consists (at least
in part) of leads, leaks, tweets, and recovered emails. For information profession-
als—librarians, information scientists, information managers, and others who work
with various kinds of information in a range of contexts—and for educators—teach-
ers, curriculum developers, instructional designers, librarians, media specialists,
administrators, and others who work with information in various learning environ-
ments—information also has specialized connotations.
This book takes the position that information is not only powerful and beautiful
but that it is the basic building block for human learning. Drawing primarily on
research and practice in the fields of information studies and instructional design
and development, the book suggests a way to think about constructing knowledge
that is directly applicable in today’s information age. It offers ideas that will be of
interest to researchers and theorists from its two core disciplines and related fields
and also to those who teach the research process—postsecondary faculty, librarians,
and information specialists as well as K-12 teachers, school librarians, and media
specialists. In sum, this book is intended for anyone who believes—or who at least
wants to consider—the proposition that “developing expertise in accessing, evaluat-
ing, and using information is in fact the authentic learning that modern education
seeks to promote” (American Association of School Librarians and Association for
Educational Communications and Technology, 1998, p. 2).
Looking at information as it is understood by information professionals and by
those who design and deliver instruction leads to a powerful insight: in today’s
world, information is, at bottom, the basis for learning. Understanding the nature
and role of information in learning is crucial to understanding how learning itself
has changed in the information age. Recognizing the profundity of this change is, in
turn, critical to fostering deep and meaningful learning in today’s information-rich
environments. The perspectives reviewed and offered here provide key informa-
tion—yes, information—about this phenomenon.
Within the overarching field of education, the subfield of instructional design and
development is the source of most of the theory underlying the conceptualization
and creation of learning activities. Also known as “instructional systems design,”
“instructional technology,” and “educational technology,” this area has been a for-
mal discipline for over 60 years and has been defined as “an organized procedure
that includes the steps of analyzing, designing, developing, implementing, and
evaluating instruction” (Seels & Richey, 1994, p. 31). As the definition suggests,
the central “information” concern of instructional designers involves selecting,
organizing, and presenting information in ways that enhance the possibility of
learning.
Instructional designers—the usual title for practitioners in the field—are more
concerned with the pedagogical uses of information than with organizing informa-
tion for access and retrieval. But writings from this field echo information special-
ists’ understanding of information as a set of entities that are discrete and have
specific characteristics and relationships. Early—and key—theorists like Gagne
(1985) and Merrill (1983, 1999) proposed “categories of learning” and “compo-
nents of learning” that correspond closely to different types of information and of
information use, from making simple stimulus-response connections to engaging in
complex problem solving. While the details of their work—and the work of many
others over the years—need not concern us here, some illustration of the “pieces” of
information these two theorists posited provides a useful context.
After a lifetime of work on classifying kinds of learning and looking for ways to
achieve each kind, Gagne (1985) ultimately proposed five types of “learned capabili-
ties”—verbal information, intellectual skills, motor skills, attitudes, and cognitive strat-
egies—and specified four kinds of “intellectual skills”—discriminations, concepts,
rules, and problem solving. Focusing on those categories most closely allied with the
cognitive dimension implied by the definitions of “information” above, we can see that
Gagne’s hierarchy assumes a number of more or less clearly defined subcategories, or
types, of information:
• Verbal information might be called information at face value, since it consists of
symbols such as words or musical notations without reference to their underlying
meanings.
• Cognitive strategies are techniques and skills—all of which involve knowledge
of types of information—that individuals use to manage their learning.
• Discriminations involve differences among objects varying in such basic proper-
ties as color, shape, and size.
• Concepts can be concrete (e.g., table) or defined (e.g., democracy) and are in
essence ideas about things that are joined by particular relationships into basic
categories.
1.2 What Is Information? The View from Instructional Design and Development 5
• Rules are statements that relate classes of stimuli to classes of responses (e.g.,
two pints make a quart) that enable us to respond predictably to situations even
when we are unable to state an appropriate rule. Gagne considered rules the
“stuff of thinking” (Gagne, 1985, p. 157).
• Problem solving—the category in which a specific kind of information merges
inseparably with information use—involves “discover[ing] a combination of pre-
viously learned rules which can be applied to achieve a solution for a novel situ-
ation” (Gagne, 1985, p. 155). The elements of discovery, combination, and
novelty move this kind of thinking with rules to a higher kind of knowledge.
Merrill’s (1983) “component display theory” provides another example of the
notion that information consists of discrete but interrelated entities that have particu-
lar uses. Merrill proposed that information to be learned consists of four types—facts,
concepts, principles, and procedures. He further posited that learning involves three
different kinds of performance—remember, use, and find. According to Ragan and
Smith (2004), Merrill formed the rationale for his categorization on “some assump-
tions about the nature of subject matter” (Merrill, 1983, p. 298, quoted in Ragan and
Smith, p. 632)—suggesting, once again, that theorists of instructional design and
development view information as consisting of interrelated entities. Merrill expanded
the number and breadth of those entities in his later work by identifying 13 types of
learning in his “instructional transaction theory” (Merrill, 1999; Merrill, Jones, & Li,
1992). This refinement of his thinking reaffirms his early work and its proposition
that information consists of multifaceted and interrelated components.
These early ideas are revisited and reflected in a key contemporary view of informa-
tion from the perspective of instructional development and design: “the knowledge
dimension” outlined in Anderson and Krathwohl’s (2001) A Taxonomy for Learning,
Teaching, and Assessing. This dimension posits that knowledge—or, in other words,
information, as defined above—can be characterized as falling into four categories:
factual knowledge, conceptual knowledge, procedural knowledge, and metacogni-
tive knowledge. What is significant about this formulation for a discussion of infor-
mation and learning is that it appears in what is considered the current version of
“Bloom’s Taxonomy,” one of the most important and widely used sets of ideas in
instructional design and indeed in American education for over 50 years. Bloom’s
original Taxonomy of Educational Objectives, published in 1956, delineated six
“levels of learning” but did not directly specify the types of information involved in
these levels. The inclusion of a “knowledge dimension” in this first-ever revision
and update of Bloom’s Taxonomy indicates the importance to contemporary instruc-
tional design and development of understanding the components of information that
underlie learning across the spectrum of levels of complexity.
6 1 Information as a Tool for Learning
As shown in Fig. 1.1, Anderson and Krathwohl (2001) define four “types of
knowledge”: factual knowledge, conceptual knowledge, procedural knowledge, and
metacognitive knowledge.
Figure 1.2 displays Anderson and Krathwohl’s (2001) “cognitive process dimen-
sion.” This dimension—a revision of the “levels of learning” that comprised Bloom’s
(1956) original Taxonomy—lays out six categories of learning arranged in a hierar-
chy based on complexity: remember, understand, apply, analyze, evaluate, and cre-
ate. Each of these categories also includes its own subcategories—19 in all—that
further delineate the chunks within the categories themselves: classifying is a sub-
category of understand, for example, while critiquing is a subcategory of evaluate.
Like the taxonomy provided for kinds of knowledge, the one provided for catego-
ries of learning mirrors similar work in information science.
To varying degrees, the different types of knowledge support different kinds of
processing, but this relationship is obviously flexible: both factual knowledge and
metacognitive knowledge can support all six levels, for example, although each is
more likely than others to come into play at various levels. The existence of this
Web of relationships reflects the connections between content and process, com-
plexity and dynamism, which are characteristic of conceptions of information held
by the instructional-design field in general. Heer’s (2012) three-dimensional repre-
sentation of Anderson and Krathwohl’s taxonomy both provides a graphic image of
this Web and shows examples of links to specific learning outcomes (www.celt.
iastate.edu/teaching/RevisedBlooms1.html).
8 1 Information as a Tool for Learning
The conceptions of information presented above suggest that the fields of informa-
tion science and instructional design and development consider information in
much the same way. Anderson and Krathwohl’s (2001) Taxonomy maps closely to
Buckland’s (1991) process-knowledge-thing characterization of information and to
Marchionini’s (1995) object-representation-knowledge typology. Both the
“information-science” and the “instructional-design-and-development” viewpoints
10 1 Information as a Tool for Learning
What are the implications for learning that flow from instructional designers’ and
information scientists’ shared understanding of information? The question is key, of
course, but it cannot be answered without consideration of the nature and processes
of learning itself. Theorists have pondered these phenomena for centuries, although
the “scientific” study of learning began only about a 100 years ago. Today, as a
result of extensive research into what has been called “cognitive information pro-
cessing,” our understanding of learning is as dynamic, complex, and multifaceted as
our understanding of information itself.
That holistic view prevails today, when contemporary learning theorists study not
only developmental influences on learning but social, cultural, psychological, and
biochemical influences as well. In the National Research Council’s influential report
entitled How People Learn, Bransford, Brown, and Cocking (2000) include all these
areas in their definition of the field now called “cognitive science”—an approach to
the study of learning “from a multidisciplinary perspective that include[s] anthro-
pology, linguistics, philosophy, developmental psychology, computer science, neu-
roscience, and several branches of psychology” (p. 8). Delving deeply into the black
box that the behaviorists declined to examine, today’s learning theorists describe
learning as an active, personalized, and self-directed internal process by which
human beings make sense of the world: “In the most general sense, the contempo-
rary view of learning is that people construct new knowledge and understandings
based on what they already know and believe” (p. 10).
Cognitive science encompasses views of learning as an outcome as well as a
process. It generally assumes the existence of facts, concepts, procedures, and strat-
egies—the categories noted by Anderson and Krathwohl (2001) above—but is more
concerned with how the mind represents and structures these types of information
in long-term memory than with the nature of the information itself. Whether called
“schemata” or “mental models,” these structures are organized collections of infor-
mation that exist at a higher level of abstraction than immediate experience, that are
dynamic and changeable as a result of experience or instruction, and that provide a
context for interpreting new knowledge (Winn, 2004). Although theorists still quar-
rel about specific distinctions between these two kinds of structures, they agree on
the central point that “learning” exists in our minds as an interconnected, multifac-
eted, dynamic, and complex web of information.
Contemporary learning theory marries dimensions of process and content to cre-
ate an overall picture of how individuals acquire, understand, and use information.
Drawing on theories and research from the full spectrum of associated disciplines,
cognitive scientists work to discover how people “learn with understanding” rather
than simply making stimulus-response associations or retrieving “mere list[s] of
12 1 Information as a Tool for Learning
disconnected facts” (Bransford et al., 2000, pp. 8–9). Cognitive scientists define the
process of learning as a highly individualized and complex set of activities that
involves the active construction of personal understandings of information that can
be put to relevant use. They see the results of this process—the state of learning—as
a rich and multidimensional collection of content, process, and strategic knowledge
that is unique to each individual.
ies, and Hill and Hannafin (2001) also brought related ideas to the fore. Direct atten-
tion to the theoretical relationship between learning and information has advanced
only marginally since Eisenberg & Small’s (1993) lament—which was published
before the Internet, the World Wide Web, and other technological advances made
information ubiquitous and its role in society a constant theme and a constant chal-
lenge. Only one academic journal—Education and Information Technologies, which
began publication in 1996—was devoted to the topic before the turn of the century.
Still, several scholars have laid important groundwork for understanding and
promoting the relationship between information and learning. Mayer’s (1999)
instructional-design model is actually information-based, although he does not
make the connection explicit. Kuhlthau, Maniotes, & Caspari’s (2015) promotion of
“guided inquiry” assumes that information is at the heart of learning, and Hannafin
and Hill’s (2008) decision to revisit the field of “resource-based learning” because
“information has changed dramatically during the past 25 years” (p. 525) suggests
that the role of information in learning is well represented in the literature of instruc-
tional design and development as well. Ford’s (2008) announcement of a “new”
field he calls “educational informatics” suggests that the relationship between infor-
mation and learning continues to intrigue scholars and practitioners alike. Lazonder’s
(2014) chapter on inqury learning in the most recent Handbook of Research on
Educational Communications and Technology brings the relationship directly to
current scholars in the field.
So far, explicit theoretical grounding for working across the disciplines of informa-
tion studies and instructional design and development has come largely from the world
of information studies. Wilson’s (1981, 1999) model of “information behavior” pro-
vides perhaps this field’s earliest insights into the relationship between information
seeking and learning and suggests a bridge between the information professions and
the instructional ones. His model embeds information seeking within a broader context
and extends the purview of the information field to include what might be done with
information after it has been found. His model’s inclusion of a step entitled “informa-
tion processing and use”—a step generally not found in information-seeking mod-
els—invites students of information, and not just researchers in end users’ disciplines,
to investigate ways in which information is actually used after it has been found.
In addition, the comprehensive work of communications theorist (Brenda Dervin
1983, 1992, 1998; Dervin et al., 2003; Dervin & Nilan, 1986) has had a strong influ-
ence on the field of information studies and has long been cited as a conceptual
bridge between information seeking and the ways in which people actually engage
with the information they seek and find. Her “sense-making” methods and her
emphasis on closing the “cognitive gap” to make sense of observed data led many
information researchers to look to relevant cognitive issues. Offering “a set of
metatheoretic assumptions and propositions about the nature of information, the
nature of human use of information, and the nature of human communication”
(Dervin, 1992, pp. 61–62), Dervin might be said to have set the stage for a consid-
eration of information as a tool for learning. Similarly, Kuhlthau’s (1985, 1988,
1993, 1997) work on the information search process laid important groundwork for
looking at information-seeking within particular learning situations—elementary,
14 1 Information as a Tool for Learning
Merging ideas from information studies and instructional design and development
yields a compelling theoretical framework for studying the role of information in
learning in a direct and comprehensive way. Indeed, the fact that contemporary lit-
erature largely avoids discussions of this theoretical relationship suggests that its
importance has not only been established but has also been incorporated into
research agendas that focus specifically on the relationship of information and
learning—not in theory but in practice.
The surge of publications in “information literacy” over the past two decades—
and especially in recent years—provides ample evidence that many scholars (and
practitioners) have recognized the bedrock connection between learning and infor-
mation and are working to address the information-learning needs and interests of a
variety of learners. (See, for just a few examples, Beheshti & Large, 2015; Bilal &
Behishti, 2014; Bruce, 1997; Bruce et al., 2017; Case, 2016; Johnston & Webber,
2003, 2005; Julien & Williamson, 2011; Koltay, Spiranec, & Karvalics, 2015;
Lloyd, 2017; Lloyd & Talja, 2010; Mackey & Jacobson, 2011; Neuman, 2016;
Reynolds, Willenborg, McClellan, Linares, & Sterner, 2017; Webber & Johnston,
2000). The emergence of at least two new journals—Communications in Information
Literacy and the Journal of Information Literacy, both of which began publishing in
2007—as well as conferences on information literacy—for example, the annual
European Conference on Information Literacy, first held in 2013—attest to the
growing international interest in the relationship between information and learning.
Chapter 4 in this book—“Today’s Learners and Learning with Information”—pro-
vides more details about the current trends and issues that continue to contribute to
both the theory and practice of using information as a tool for learning.
1.7 Conclusion
I would not describe London if I could. It has been done too often
already, well and ill; and, truth to tell, I was still very young, and for
the greater part of the time spent there, lived too much in a dream to
be able to deal with the realities that surged around me.
My first trip across the ocean was quite uneventful. Never seasick
for a single minute, I enjoyed excellent health; but this did not give
me immunity from the symptoms of others. That any one fails to be
seasick is to be wondered at, indeed, considering that seasickness is
the first subject of conversation between passengers when they
become acquainted. They speak so knowingly of the feelings, the
symptoms, the effects and the causes. The clever ones prophesy
who among the passenger list will be sick, and when they will be
sick. Those who have been seasick talk feelingly of their experience,
and go into such details that it is surprising that any one can
maintain a gastric balance. A fair example of this was a conversation
I overheard.
“Ever been across before?”
“No.”
“Then you do not know whether you will be seasick or not?”
“No, I don’t know. I am afraid I will.”
“I’m always sick. It does me good.”
“Does you good? Great Heavens!”
“Oh, yes, I always feel better after it is over, and I am really beastly
sick.”
“Really!”
“Yes, the first day we have a big swell on just watch me.”
“Thanks.”
“But I never miss one meal, so I always have something to come
and go on.”
“That’s nice; you keep a kind of debit and credit account with your
stomach, and the swell strikes the balance.”
“Ah, ah! Very good. I think I’ll go below a bit; beginning to feel
queer now. Good-bye.”
Such conversations are the regular stock-in-trade of some people
for the first few hours on an ocean liner. If such observations are not
inflicted upon you personally, you overhear them, and they do not
help matters.
Our trip to Liverpool was very enjoyable, but flat and uneventful.
Chess in the morning and shuffleboard in the afternoon; a nap, a
book, and perhaps whist in the evening made the time pass
pleasantly enough. There was no one on board who was really worth
while to me, and I did not find Skillmore to my taste at close quarters.
After a few weeks in London my feelings towards him reached the
point of absolute dislike and suspicion. These feelings were more
instinctive than founded on any important detail of his actions. I felt
that he was not to be depended on. Skillmore was an Americanised
Canadian, of that smart, flashy type, called clever and pushing. I
cannot state that he was deliberately dishonest; but certainly the
tangle into which he managed to get our business indicated
carelessness, incompetence or intentional trickery, with an end in
view which was never plain to me. A thing that made me lose
confidence in him was that he drank too much. He was not a
drunkard, but a steady tippler, who was good for nothing unless he
was more or less in drink. Wonderful things have been done by men
under the influence of alcohol, but I have always had a dread of it,
and am to-day afraid of drunkards.
I spent several months in London. For a few weeks we stayed at
the Old Tavistock Hotel in Covent Garden, then as our stay seemed
likely to run into months, we rented a furnished house. The renting of
the house in Bayswater was brought about by a chap for whom I
formed a great liking on first sight. I met him through Skillmore, who
had been his schoolmate in Toronto. His name was Jarman, and he
was to me a new and charming type. He lived on his wits by doing
apparently what he liked, when he liked, writing magazine articles,
plays, theatrical news and criticisms, acting sometimes for a few
weeks, and doing various other things in a free “devil-may-care” and
brilliant manner which seemed to me a wonderful feat for a young
man to perform in hard and tough old London town. He lived a
precarious Bohemian existence amongst the most fascinating people
I had ever met—singers, actors, writers, painters and newspaper
men who had not yet arrived but were in the making. Jarman was a
drinker, but of a type different from Skillmore, who never went under
the table. I was always sorry to see Jarman drunk, but in him it did
not seem so very horrible. He could get drunk in such distinguished
style, and was always witty and cheerful, and when it was over that
was the end of it. With Skillmore it was different. He was surly,
morose, and heavy. He seemed to be always brooding or scheming;
I never could feel that I knew the man.
The renting of the furnished house in Kildare Gardens, Bayswater,
near Whiteley’s stores, was Jarman’s brilliant suggestion, and we
four—Skillmore, the mechanic, Jarman and myself—lived in great
comfort for very little money, as compared with expenses at an hotel.
This American quartette, I am afraid, gave one house in London a
reputation which may yet hang as a cloud about the highly
respectable neighbourhood of Kildare Gardens. Our house was
referred to as “where the Indians live.” What Jarman considered
entertaining in a quiet way was not looked upon by the neighbours
as quiet, and some even went so far as to doubt our sanity and
respectability. Jarman was on all such occasions master of
ceremonies, and without him my stay in London would have been a
dull affair. He knew London thoroughly—bad, good, and indifferent.
His list of acquaintances, who called him Bill, included every class of
society from the aristocrat to the costermonger. Poor, merry, care-
free, generous and loving, Bill Jarman died of pneumonia a year
after I returned home.
While things were going pleasantly enough as to our
housekeeping and our entertainment, our business did not seem to
me to make such progress as it should. Skillmore was very non-
committal and uncommunicative. I could never draw any details from
him, and he never explained the steps he was taking in the business
that brought us to London. Big people in whose hands he pretended
to be were by his account always on the Continent or ill, and my
cross-examinations of him were met with general statements and
obvious evasions. This made me uneasy, and after some weeks of
worry I wrote Walter disclosing my feelings in the matter, advising
him to put a limit on his expenditure, and to call upon Skillmore to
make a specific statement of the condition of our affairs. My letter
alarmed Walter, and he immediately took my advice and put a stop
order on funds. I was perhaps hasty in conclusions, and, not being a
man of business but simply an accountant, should not have been so
readily alarmed at the spending of time and money. But I felt that we
could not remain indefinitely in London spending Walter’s money
without being able to show good cause. Cause I could not show,
unless Skillmore could produce some evidence of progress in the
promotion of our patent. As Skillmore failed to satisfy me, I booked
my return passage, giving him a week’s notice of my intention and
demanding all correspondence and documents, which would show
what had so far been done. The stand I took enraged Skillmore, who
possibly was quite honest in his intentions. He handed me a large
folio of papers, and declared his responsibility in the matter at an
end. As he refused to go with me to a solicitor and explain his
position, I went alone, placing the portfolio in the hands of an
eminent lawyer, who shortly gave me a written opinion of the
condition of our business. This report showed a rather uncertain
condition of affairs. Skillmore had, through carelessness or design,
so tied us up with patents pending and options that we could do
nothing but sit in patience and await developments. We were in the
hands of a promoter who later became very well-known indeed, to
the cost of a great many, Walter among the rest.
Returning to Montreal with the best face I could put upon the
matter, I made a brave pretence of seeing bright things in the future.
In my heart I knew, however, that I was mixed up with another
failure; and so it turned out. I resolved never again to introduce
friends to financial adventures.
My return home discovered the fact that the German, Leidman,
had practically lived on Walter during the whole five months of my
absence, and had every intention of continuing to live on him till our
company matured and bore fruit. This last, however, I was able to
prevent. Walter took his loss like a philosopher; he did not swear,
weep, or blame me or fortune. He had plenty of money, and the loss
of a few thousand dollars put him to no real inconvenience; but I felt
the burden of my responsibility keenly, especially as through me and
Leidman he became known as a man with money, easily exploited.
CHAPTER XVI
My trip abroad had a very widening influence upon me, and I saw
many things in a different light from that in which they had appeared
to me before my visit to London. Muriel and our children looked
different to me, and my duty to render a strict account of my life to
them came home to me. I realised that I did not belong to myself.
Hitherto I had been living by my feelings and instincts, as most
people do, like a chip upon a stream, driven hither and thither by
current, counter-current, and by every breeze. I perceived that I was
not a chip, but a ship, my brains in control of the rudder. These ideas
came late to me, and I made but poor use of them; but I tried.
I was now in as much need of the immediate dollar as I had ever
been, and I returned to my regular beat on St. James Street, to do
such work as offered, from a deal in real estate, down to gathering in
an insignificant commission on a small fire policy. I loathed the life;
but I had to provide. I discovered that I could scribble things that
newspapers and magazines would pay for. The first five-dollar bill I
received for this work, I felt to be the biggest and cleanest money I
had ever earned. While struggling thus once more with necessity, I
gave much thought to the future. A new light on things, as it seemed,
had come to me; had I been religiously inclined, it would have led me
to believe I was experiencing a change of heart, being born again, or
undergoing some such mysterious process, as that through which
certain kinds of people go. But this was not so. I was learning to
think; and to take myself more seriously. I had children growing up,
to whom I owed more than I could ever pay. I had accomplished
nothing and arrived nowhere. In this condition of mind I bethought
me of Muriel’s cousin Rex. Rex was a lawyer and a politician high up
in the councils of a political party. He was the cunning and wise
counsellor, and the “right bower” of a Minister of the Crown. Rex’s
father had been a plain, hard-working man. In a little unpretentious
place he had lived by making shirts to order. An artist in shirts, he
knew his work and loved it, and he made good shirts. He raised Rex,
his first-born, and educated him and several other children on shirts,
and died poor.
Rex was different. He was ambitious. He cared nothing for using
his hands, and he despised shirt-making. He never made anything
but peace or trouble, whichever paid the better, for he was a lawyer
and a schemer. He became a clever politician, able and resourceful,
and some day he will be a millionaire, as he deserves—for having
had the perspicacity to observe that it does not pay to make useful
things with one’s hands.
Withal, I doubt if he has had the satisfaction out of life that his
father got out of making shirts.
Through Rex I became a political worker for the Minister to whom
he was adviser. As it will be necessary to speak of several Ministers
of the Crown, who must be nameless, I will call this Minister “One.”
An election was about to fall upon the country with all the
disorganising influences of a great storm. The wind of political
excitement was just beginning to blow in fitful gusts, now from one
direction, now from another, and the powers of the two great parties
were beginning to line up and count heads. Workers of all kinds were
wanted—writers, good liars, common touts, organisers, poseurs,
talkers, walkers and mockers. For Minister One I checked lists of
people, made calls at offices, talked to working men at noon hour,
and even made my way into private houses in the evenings, and did
many other things as I was bid, and learned all the mysteries of what
is known as “the dirty work” of an election. I was well paid; but I did
not work for pay alone. I was serving my apprenticeship in the way
Rex thought necessary, before I could be made a Civil servant.
During the weeks I spent at this work I had beautiful dreams of a
near future, when I would assume the cowl and retire from the world
into the seclusion of the Civil Service, where I would enjoy peace
and leisure, with time to think, study, and write for magazines, teach
music and follow my bent. I had very hazy ideas regarding the Civil
Service. I thought, as many think, that it was a collection of highly
fortunate and cultivated gentlemen, who enjoyed ridiculous salaries
for services of a very light kind; that being a Civil servant gave one a
social standing of some importance, next, at least, to that of
gentlemen of the black robe and collar buttoned behind. I was to live
and discover how exceedingly foolish were these ideas.
The election being over, to the satisfaction of one party and the
discomfiture of another, Minister One being re-established in his
position of Minister of Ways and Means, where he had been before
the election, I called upon him; my movements, of course, being
advised by Rex. Calling on a Minister is by no means a simple
process. Minister One had several offices in several cities, two of
them being in Montreal—one in the post office, the other in the
offices of a newspaper. He was never anywhere for a long time, and
was always busy and surrounded by watchful bodyguards and
lieutenants, who protected him from the protesting, begging and
demanding mob. However, I camped upon his trail and finally
tracked him to his lair.
Minister One was a little nervous man of wonderful energy, with
unbounded faith in himself and his destiny. He was very amusing in
some of his aspects, but the comical side of his character was a side
he never recognised in himself. He received me as kindly and
condescendingly as he could—he being only five foot seven and a
Minister of the Crown; and I being six foot and one of his jackals,
who knew that his election had not been made with prayers.
Compliments being exchanged, I came at once to the point.
“Mr. Minister,” I said, “I would exceedingly like a Government
position.”
“What?” exclaimed One, pretending to be surprised. “Government
position at your age? In the name of high Heaven, why?” And he
took a turn about the room with his head thrown forward on his
chest, and his hands clasped behind his back.
“Because,” I replied, “I have had enough; I want peace and a
reliable source of income.”
“Peace! ha, ha!” said One laughing. “You want peace while still
young and able to fight? What is the use of peace? Give me war.”
“Every one to his taste,” I said; “war for you, peace for me. War I
know something about. I have fought a bitter fight, and am tired. War
I give you, but peace is a thing I have yet to experience. I would like
to taste it, and so I want a Government position.”
“Oh, very well,” said One, and he waved his arms in disgust. He
waved his arms about his head in everything. “To go into the Civil
Service is not to achieve peace, it is to die. Go to Rex and tell him I
say you are to be placed.”
“I come from Rex to ask you to place me,” I said.
“Well, go back to him and say that it is all right, and I will see him
about it. Good-morning, good-bye, and good luck,” he said, in a tone
which indicated that he would have been delighted to add, “go to
hell,” or something like it.
I went immediately to Rex, who pitied me as one of the many
kinds of jackasses who fail to take advantage of the great
opportunities offering to ride on the other fellow’s back. I gave him
Minister One’s message, and said things to him relative to my
wishes, hopes, desires and condition. He looked at me sorrowfully.
I was a large, bare-faced man with long hair; neither ordinary or
commonplace to look upon. To wear my hair a little long is my taste
and Muriel’s. Rex wore his hair cropped like a pork butcher and the
beard upon his face trimmed to a pattern. “Chacun à son goût.” He
was like a great many other people in thinking that matters of taste
are matters of fact, and that style and gait not of this or that type
must necessarily be bad taste.
“John,” he said, “get your hair cut, and you shall have the position
you desire.”
“Consider it cut,” I said. “If thy hair offend thy protector, cut if off; it
will grow again.” And we both laughed.
We were both mere boys under forty. It flattered him to be referred
to as my protector. Not only in the matter of hair did we disagree. We
looked with different eyes on all subjects; yet we were friends, and I
had his sympathy and help, which he gave me as if I were his
brother.
I had what used to be considered as claims upon a position in the
Civil Service, to wit:
Item: I had worked for the Minister of Ways and Means.
Item: I was the only Red in a Blue family, the little leaven, which
might in time leaven the whole.
Item: My wife was related to a man who had arrived politically.
Item: My father-in-law had been a big gun, and an intimate friend
of Sir ——, who had been a Prime Minister.
These were considered good and sufficient claims, and counted
very high in the game. We do still count them, but not so highly as in
the year Thirty-Six.
CHAPTER XVII
When I came into the Service, one got in on a Minister’s “say so.”
That was all that was necessary. If your Minister intended you to get
in, you got in quickly, without heart-breaking waiting or examinations
that did not examine. A Minister’s “say so” was secured if you could
get close enough to him to enable you to point your gun at his head
and whisper in his ear in a threatening, stagey voice that the gun
was loaded with a great charge of influence, family connections,
friends, contractors, manufacturers, etc. It really mattered very little
whether the gun was actually loaded or not, for all politicians are
most notoriously nervous, and take for granted that every gun they
see is loaded. It is a safe way. Politicians forget easily, so sometimes
the gun had to be produced several times to bring about fulfilment of
the promise; but with a gun, or something that looked like a gun, a
determined air, and nerve, you could do a great deal.
During these manœuvres I had not mentioned the matter of a Civil
Service position to Muriel or my family. When it was as good as
settled, I told my father. He said “What?” so loudly that the windows
rattled. He said other things not necessary to mention. My mother’s
father had been a Civil servant, and my decision to follow the same
life seemed to my father a horrible case of reversion. Muriel was not
enthusiastic about the prospective change; but she was resigned to
her fate. “I suppose it is the best thing,” she said and shrugged her
shoulders. She had no great confidence in my judgment, but she had
great faith in my luck.
Not many weeks elapsed between my interview with Minister One
and my instalment in the service of the Queen. This, of course, was
due to Rex, who was keeper of the Minister’s memory. One day Rex
sent for me, and I was presented to Mr. Gobble, the Deputy Minister
of Ways and Means, and received the very pleasing information that
I was to report for duty at Ottawa immediately. Details were
discussed. I was a little disappointed to learn that the promise of my
Minister, of a position of fifteen hundred dollars per annum, had to be
modified. As I was over thirty-five, I could not enter on the permanent
staff or Civil Service List, but had to enter as an extra clerk, at the
regular rate in such cases, namely, three dollars per day. I was
assured, however, by Minister One, his Deputy and Rex, that very
soon after I was placed they would see to it that I was raised to the
promised sum. I believed every word they said.
Fifteen hundred a year, coming in regularly and systematically,
whether business was good or bad, looked bigger than a house to
me at the time, and was magnified many times in my eyes before I
really got it. I had often lived on more money, but more often had
lived on less, and I saw myself writing for magazines and papers,
teaching music, living in peace and comfort, and bringing up my
children. It was a very modest ambition.
On Monday, the fourteenth day of January, in the year Thirty-
Seven, I arrived in Ottawa. When I walked into the Government
building the policeman on the door touched his hat to my English
clothes, which were still good. I presented myself at the green baize
door of Mr. Gobble’s office, and was presently shown in by a
messenger, who had first taken in my card. Mr. Gobble had already
forgotten me, so shook hands heartily as if he were pleased to see
me again and invited me to sit down. “Well, Mr. Wesblock, what
now?” he said, waiting for the cue which would show him who the
deuce I was.
“I am Three-Dollar-a-Day-Wesblock,” I said; “told to report here to-
day, and here I am.”
Light broke upon Mr. Gobble and he laughed loudly at a point I did
not see, but I joined his laugh.
“You will go into the office of Mercenary Dispensations,” said
Gobble. “You will like the Chief Dispenser, Mr. Kingdom. I will present
you to him now, if you will come with me.” He rose and I followed him
to Mr. Kingdom’s office. It was a small place which had not been
thoroughly cleaned for a long time. Everything in the room was old-
fashioned and dingy. A litter of papers was strewn in every direction;
papers were piled on a little counter that stood before the door, on
the chairs in bundles, on the floor in a corner, and in huge
heterogeneous stacks upon an ancient desk. Before this object sat a
sad-eyed, prematurely decayed and old-fashioned man, who rose as
we entered. “Mr. Kingdom,” said the Deputy, “this is Mr. Wesblock,
your newly appointed clerk.”
“Ah!” sighed Mr. Kingdom, and he busied himself clearing a chair
for me to sit upon. “Sit down, Mr. Wesblock,” and he smiled upon me
sadly.
“I will leave Mr. Wesblock with you,” said the Deputy to Mr.
Kingdom, and to me, “Good-morning, Mr. Wesblock,” and he left the
room.
Mr. Kingdom mildly and tentatively cross-examined me, and I gave
a short account of myself. His manner said nearly as plainly as
words, “God knows what I am going to do with you.”
I have excellent sight, and while we talked I noted a piece of paper
before Mr. Kingdom upon which was type-written a long column of
figures. Some one had evidently just added this column and the total
was written in blue pencil on a pad before me. These little things
were of no particular interest to me, but I idly noted them for want of
better occupation.
“Just add this column for me, Mr. Wesblock,” said Mr. Kingdom,
and he pushed towards me the paper I had noticed. Whether he
thought I looked as if I could not do simple addition, or not, I do not
know. Carefully noting the total I had already observed in blue pencil,
which was still nearly under my nose, I gave him an exhibition of
lightning addition, which seemed to enthuse him to mild satisfaction.
We were each satisfied with ourselves; he, that he had a clerk who
could read, write, and add; I, that I had a chief with whom any one
could get along without half trying, and I intended to try.
“I will now take you to Father Steve,” said Mr. Kingdom, “whom
you will assist.” We went into the adjoining room, which was very
much like Mr. Kingdom’s, with the exception that it was inhabited by
two ancients instead of one.
I was presented to Father Steve and Mr. Ernest, the two ancients.
Father Steve was a little old man with white whiskers. He wore
spectacles far down on his nose, and glared at me with two fiery
eyes, as if he were indignant at some affront I had put upon him.
Ernest was a younger man, handsome, intelligent looking, but seedy.
I judged by the expectant smile on Ernest’s face that Father Steve
was in some way amusing him at my expense. Mr. Kingdom left the
room, and Father Steve walked coolly over to me, where I stood in
the middle of the room near a high desk. He walked around me very
much as one dog walks around another before the fight begins. Then
he posted himself before me, and looking into my face most
impertinently said, “What the devil are you going to do here?” I saw
now that the old buffer was a little bit of all right, and that he was
acting for his pal Ernest. “I am going to assist you, Mr. Steve,” I said.
“Assist me?” he growled. “Oh hell! Assist me! Now look here,
Blockhead, I do not intend to be assisted, and I’ll be damned if I’ll be
assisted. I am only a young chap of seventy years of age. I’ve been
here for thirty years at three dollars a day, and I don’t need
assistance.” I believe the old chap would have worked himself into
an actual rage in a minute.
“Now look here, Pa,” I said, placing my hand on his shoulder,
much to his surprise, “I am going to assist you or not, just as you
say, but first of all let us be friends, and I fancy we can have a bit of
fun together.”
“What did you call me, sir?” he asked, pretending indignation.
“I called you ‘Pa,’” I said.
“Damned familiarity,” he exclaimed.
Ernest was now laughing heartily and the old man joined him with
me.
“What did you call me?” I asked in pretended anger.
“‘Blockhead,’” said the old man, “and good enough for you, damn
you.” And from that day till his death we were “Pa” and “Blockhead”
to each other, and many were the pranks we played on others. The
merry old soul died at seventy-six.