Or, in other words—You Have No clue who I am!
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Let’s rewind to the late 19th century. A brilliant young man had just cracked the main problem with taking photos in that era. And he invented dry film photography. Until then, taking pictures was an expensive, complicated mess. Then along came this dude with his shiny new Kodak camera, and boom—people went nuts.
Enter George Eastman.
One minute, a nobody. The next? Filthy rich.
But George wasn’t just another greedy capitalist. He was a revolutionary in business. His factory wasn’t a soul-crushing hellhole like most others in that era. No, sir. His workers had shorter hours, fair pay, disability benefits, life insurance, and even a retirement plan—all decades ahead of its time.
And the man didn’t just hoard his wealth—he gave it away. He handed over company stock to employees and poured his fortune into social causes. If there was ever a rich guy who did capitalism right, it was George.
So when the news broke on March 14, 1932, that George Eastman shot himself in the chest—people were stunned.
Why did he do that?!!??
Meanwhile, in the Same Country, a Few Decades Earlier…
Meet Adolph Fischer. A completely different kind of guy.
He was no millionaire, just a small-time newspaper editor who spoke up for workers in Chicago. Back then, factory workers weren’t just exploited—they were treated worse than the machines they worked on. A few protests turned violent, and although Adolph wasn’t even there, the system had to find someone to blame.
They picked him.
The courts sentenced him to death by hanging, despite the fact that his involvement in the crime was zero. On execution day, just before they pulled the lever, Adolph smiled and said:
“Today is the happiest day of my life!”
And then—snap.
Gone.
Why the hell was he happy?
Two Men. Two Deaths. Two Completely Opposite Endings.
One was a self-made tycoon who had everything—money, success, a lasting legacy.
The other? A working-class revolutionary with nothing—no money, no power, just an unfair trial.
So why did one die smiling, while the other pulled the trigger on himself?
That’s the question.
And the reason we think we know the answer? We don’t.
We’re All Judging People Based on a Few Sentences. Whatever information is available. The availability error.
What If I Was Adolph?
Picture this: I’m a poor immigrant worker in 19th-century Chicago.
Every day, I wake up to brutal working conditions. Factory bosses treat us like trash, and the rich live like gods.
I finally get a platform—I write articles. I shout out against injustice. It does nothing.
One day, a riot happens, and I get framed. Suddenly, my words matter. My name is in the newspapers. People are talking about me.
And when I step onto that scaffold, I think:
“At least I fought. At least my words didn’t disappear into the void.”
Boom. A sense of purpose.
Boom. A reason to die smiling.
What If I Was George?
Now, imagine: I invent something revolutionary. I get rich. Super rich. I make people’s lives better. I see my ideas change the world.
But then, I get old.
My body betrays me. A disease eats away at my spine, and I can barely move.
I’ve done everything I set out to do. Nothing excites me anymore.
One day, I sit at my desk and write:
“My work is done. Why wait?”
And that’s it.
So, Who Are You to Judge?
You didn’t know Adolph Fischer’s whole story- Yet you judged.
You didn’t know George Eastman’s whole story- Yet you judged
Man (and woman!)- we don’t even know our own.
Because the truth?
No one really knows anyone.
So maybe, just maybe—we should stop judging people based on a few headlines.
(Jimmy Mathew)
