Chapter 24

Critics were comparing him to Eric Hoffer. He didn’t mind the connection at all—Hoffer was one of his life’s examples. The longshoreman philosopher who had educated himself. Who had written “The True Believer” and other works of penetrating social insight without formal academic training. A man who had found wisdom through labor and observation rather than conventional channels.

The question Nicholas still asked himself every day was what was his plan going forward. He was now 24 years old, still a kid in most people’s minds. He had money in the bank from his books. His handyman business was keeping him busy, providing a steady income that he barely needed to touch.

The conventional path was obvious. The dean and the college president assured him the path was clear for him to pursue his PhD in either philosophy or anthropology. They hinted it was a slam dunk given the attention his books had received. And the offer was tempting. A lifetime around books and scholars. The speaking opportunities would be lucrative as well. There were other opportunities as well—offers from publishers for more books, invitations from other universities, including Dr. Whitney’s suggestion to come to Harvard, and there were offers from advocacy organizations to become a spokesperson for juvenile justice reform.

All these paths had merit. All would have allowed him to continue the work that had unexpectedly become significant to others.

But none of them felt right. And he felt down deep in his bones that his survival depended on doing right.

The dark was still real.

So, he left college and enrolled in the four-year program at the Holzbau Schweiz Trade School in Switzerland. It was an odd choice by everyone’s standards. With two successful books and growing influence, pivoting to traditional carpentry training seemed like a step backward. But Nicholas was still pursuing his own concept of arete. He wanted to learn his trade at the most rigorous carpentry school in the world.

When he told Eleanor his decision, she was one of the few who didn’t question it.

“You’re following your vision,” she observed. “Pursuing excellence in its most traditional form.”

“Something like that,” he agreed. “I’ve written about the dignity of craft. Now I want to explore mastery.”

The application process was intensive. Holzbau Schweiz didn’t care about Nicholas’s Pulitzer or the laws his writing had helped change. They wanted evidence of aptitude, of basic skills already developed, of seriousness of purpose. He submitted a portfolio of his handyman and construction work, letters from Al and other tradespeople he’d worked with, and completed a series of technical assessments to demonstrate his understanding of fundamentals.

The language requirement was another hurdle. The program required functional German, which Nicholas didn’t speak. He spent six intensive months with a tutor, learning enough to meet their minimum requirements with the understanding that he would continue language study upon arrival.

In the end, he was accepted. He got his passport, his truck and purchased a one-way ticket to Zürich. The day before he left for Switzerland out of O’Hare airport, he had dinner with Al.

“Most guys want to get away from physical work as they get older, not dive deeper into it,” Al observed as they had pizza and beer at their favorite pizza place.