up for herself eugenic capital.

I have always wished that California would strike off a series of medals
symbolic of some of the Utopian conditions which prevail there. I would
like to suggest a model for one. I was walking once in the vicinity of
the Ferry with a woman who knows the labor movement of California as
well as an outsider may. Suddenly she whispered in my ear, "Oh look!
Isn't he a typical California labor man?"

It was his noon hour and, in his shirt sleeves, he was leaning against
the wall, a pipe in his mouth. He was tall and lean; not an ounce of
superfluous flesh on his splendid frame, but a great deal of muscle that
lay in long, faintly swelling contours against it. He was black haired
and black-mustached; both hair and mustache were lightly touched
with grey. His thicklashed blue eyes sparkled as clear and happy as a
child's. In their expression and, indeed, in the whole relaxed attitude
of his fine, long figure, was an entertained, contented interest, an
amused tolerance of the passing crowd. You will see this type, among
others equally fine, again and again, in the unions of California.

Yes, that spirit of democracy is not only strong but militant.

Militant! I never could make up my mind which made the fightingest
reading in the San Francisco papers, the account of Friday's boxing
contest or of Monday's meeting of the Board of Supervisors. They do
say that a visiting Easterner was taken to the Board of Supervisors
one afternoon. In the evening he was regaled with a battle royal. And,
and--they do say--he fell asleep at the battle royal because it seemed
so tame in comparison with the Board of Supervisors.

The athletic instinct in the Native Son accounts for the star athletes,
boxers, tennis players, ball players; that art instinct for the
painters, illustrators, sculptors, playwrights, fiction writers, poets,
actors, photographers, producers; that spirit of democracy for the labor
leaders and politicians with whom California has inundated the rest of
the country.

I started to make a list of the famous Californians in all these
classes. But, when I had filled one sheet with names, realizing that
no matter how hard I cudgelled my memory, I would inevitably forget
somebody of importance, I tore it up. Take a copy of "Who's Who" and
cut out the lives of all those who don't come from California and see
what a respectable-sized volume you have left.

If any woman tourist should ask me what wa