EVEN FROM EARLIEST memory, life always has seemed unusual, eventful, exciting. I was born July 31, 1892, of respected and upright parents who were of solid Quaker stock. My ancestors had emigrated from England to Pennsylvania with William Penn, a hundred years before the United States became a nation. My ancestry, through a paternal great-grandmother, traces back to Edward I, King of England. I first saw the light of day in a red brick two-apartment flat on the northwest corner of East 14th and Grand Avenue, in Des Moines, Iowa. Of course I remember absolutely nothing of the day of my birth - even as you remember nothing of the day you were born. But my mother always remembered it, especially since I was her first-born, as my father was a first-born son before me. A friend in Des Moines, some years ago, jestingly remarked that I "became famous too late" - the flat in which I was born long since had been replaced by a business property.
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