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Thackeray in that stanza used the word Gentleman in its true
sense-a man of personal honor and fine sensibilities, free from
malice and envy, generous and gracious in triumph, serene and
unbowed in adversity; tolerant of other men and their views,
neither high-hatting the humble nor catering to the powerful;
speaking ill of no one, considerate of everyone and ready with
a helpful word or a helping hand for others.
Of that excellent company was George Broom.
Life is a great deal of a battle, each man a warrior. Wordsworth
wrote noble lines defining "The Happy Warrior," a name now associated
with an American statesman. For George Broom there is the name,
"The Friendly Warrior." His weapons were the helpful word and
the helping hand.
George Broom was a good man in the highest meaning of that
term. But it never occurred to him to think of himself as such.
Quiet, unassuming, rather retiring, he thought of himself as
just one of us, no better, no worse-just human beings doing
the best we can, each according to his own lights and ability.
A great deal of a philosopher, his outlook on life was mellowed
by a kindly, tolerant humor that was a joy to many, many friends,
ashore and afloat.
He has passed on; but while he was here he made- life brighter
, more cheerful, more hopeful for all of us.
Men in all walks of life, prominent and obscure, held him in
deep affection.
The Old West in frontier days had a genius for appraising a
man in a single rugged phrase. It would have called George Broom
a "squareshooter! "
This is an age of hifaluting titles in business. We have presidents
and general managers and vice-presidents in charge of this and
that, even in small enterprises. There was none of that about
George Broom. He preferred to be known as the "sailmaker and
rigger and Northwest distributor of Preservo," and Seattle loved
to call him its "pioneer sailmaker and rigger." As a matter
of fact, he was one of our leading business men; he was the
founder and head of a business institution that for more than
a generation has ranked as a Northwest maritime asset, with
high standing in the financial as well as the commercial world.
He was a member of exclusive organizations, but always be was
George Broom, the "pioneer sailmaker and rigger." He made that
term venerated.
He lived a full life, teeming with interests. There was his
beautiful home set in broad acres on the shores of Port Madison.
He had much pleasure in his home and his flower gardens, lawns
and shrubbery. He was a lover of roses , growing rare and exquisite
varieties. He always had a rose in his lapel when he came to
the city each morning. Old timers will remember the long contest
between him and the late J. P. Todd; each striving to raise
the most beautiful roses. It was a friendly rivalry between
two devoted rosarians. They began getting up early in the morning
so as to have more time for the roses. First one and then the
other would get up a bit earlier until both were rising hours
before anyone else. But it was all good humored. Then Mr. Todd
passed away in 1922. To George Broom, rose culture was a thing
of absorbing and vivid interest.
He always had a dog-an Irish terrier of pedigreed lineage-and
he found keen pleasure in their companionship. Bestbeloved of
all his dogs was Fairholme, undoubtedly the finest Irish terrier
of this district. Fairholme was the son of Celtic Patriot, the
champion Irish terrier of all England in 1921. He was George
Broom's constant companion, often coming to the city with him.
There was a deep affection between man and dog. Fairholme's
death under the wheels of a motor truck in September, 1934,
was a sad loss to George Broom. He buried the terrier in the
shade of a large Camellia tree, where the dog used to sit and
watch his master at work among the roses. To the last George
Broom cared tenderly for the grave. He never forgot Fairholme.
(Incidentally our old friend chuckled often over the Beach Comber's
use of Fairholme as a character in one of this publication's
Wild Waves series, in which the dog had a leading part under
the name of Sirloin.)
George Broom loved the sea and boats and ships. He had pleasure
in his power cruiser Dunlin. Each summer, with a few old cronies,
he voyaged for a few weeks into British Columbia or Southeastern
Alaska waters, fishing and relaxing, forgetting business cares.
To be a guest on one of these expeditions was a high privilege,
sought by many.
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George Broom loved the marine view from his home. He spent
many a happy hour in contemplation of it. And then, above all,
he had his two sons, Grenville and Rupert, whom he brought up
with rare wisdom, after the death of their beloved mother, a
mother such as few men have. She passed away in 1926, an irreparable
loss to father and sons. George Broom took a keen pride in his
two stalwart sons; he watched over them with gentle solicitude,
but at the same time he gave free rein to their initiative and
enterprise, so that they have grown into self-reliant young
men. Grenville spent years in the Arctic, Rupert sailed on ocean
steamships as a seaman. Between these ventures, George Broom
trained his sons in the affairs of his own business so that
when he passed on, they could take charge in a smooth transition.
In his home life, George Broom was happiest of an evening when
he sat in an easy chair in front of the fireplace, a good book
in his hand, a dog curled up at his feet, and his two sons home
from sea or wilderness, one on each side of the fireplace, also
book in hand or exchanging stories of their experiences on sea
and land. George Broom was a companion to his sons.
He had great pleasure in his business, as well as in home,
family and friends. He found his business vividly interesting,
fascinating. He established it when the sailing vessel still
was a factor on the sea; he had friendships with mariners of
all kinds of craft-friendships that dated back to the years
when all were young. Many of the old-timers have passed on.
George Broom never forgot them. He loved to talk of them. The
list was long, including such colorful personalities as the
late Capt. Edward Cantillion, the noted sealer, and the late
Capt. John A. O'Brien, long the nestor of the Pacific. (We drank
toasts to their memory.)
George Broom lived a rounded life. He delighted in a good game
of poker; whether he won or lost made no difference to him;
it was the sport and fun of the thing that appealed to him.
He was a well-balanced man. He never talked religion, but he
lived it. He held fast to the old beliefs. As in all other matters,
there was a fine tolerance for the views and beliefs of others.
The range of his friendships was amazing, everything from the
waterfront worker in overalls to those who stand high in the
American business world, East and West.
We of the waterfront will always love to remember him at his
annual clam party, held in his sail loft each February for 21
successive years. He was the perfect host, moving quietly among
his throngs of old friendsmoving quietly and yet somehow infusing
the whole gathering with a glowing spirit of fellowship and
good cheer and happiness. As you entered the sail loft you stepped
into the past, into the old world of sea romance. You stepped
into an atmosphere of sailing ship days-the aroma of sailcloth,
hemp, tar, and rum in the air; walls covered with pictures of
famous ships and navigators; a large ship's wheel here, and
scattered about the loft a clutter of nautical instruments and
gear of all kinds, and over there in the center of the loft
the huge potbellied stove crackling cheerfully. And there at
the long tables, loaded with steaming clams and other viands,
the guests, from the local waterfronts, from East and West and
North and South! And at the head table Stanley Griffiths, the
shipping executive, rising to lead the singing of the ancient
sea chantey, "Blow the Man Down, Bully," and all hands joining
lustily in the refrain! What memories George Broom has left
us!
"George Broom beamed benignly on his guests," wrote H. E. Jamison
in the Seattle Star last February, after the 21st party, "and
his guests beamed back. He was happy to be with his friends
and his friends were happy to be with him."
George Broom lived the wellrounded life. He found much good
in life, far, far more of good than bad. He found much pleasure
in life, all clean and wholesome. The helpful word was always
on his lips, the helping hand extended. We shall miss him sorely.
A chair will always be vacant.
It is considered rather hackneyed to quote Shakespeare nowadays
and the truth is that many of his fine things have been quoted
so often, in season and out of season, that they have become
shop-worn. But all the time I have been trying to write this
sketch of a friend whom we all loved, some lines of Shakespeare
have kept coming into mind-the words spoken by Marc Antony over
the body of Brutus:
"His life was gentle, and the elements so mixed in him that
Nature might stand up and say to all the world. This was a man!"
Such was George Broom. He has left us a wonderful legacy-the
memory of himself.
JACKSON B. CORBET, JR.
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