[THE GENERAL MANAGER'S STORY.]
THE LIFE OF THE RAILROAD MAN.
DRAWN FROM FIFTEEN YEARS' EXPERIENCE AS BRAKEMAN, FIRE-MAN, AND ENGINEER.
By Herbert E. Hamblen ("Fred. B. Williams"),
Author of "On Many Seas."
EXPERIENCES AND ADVENTURES AS A BRAKEMAN IN THE YARD AND ON THE ROAD.
Illustrated with Drawings from Life by W. D. Stevens.
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HOW little does the average passenger realize, when he steps on the sumptuously furnished car and quietly reads the newspaper until the brakeman calls out his station and he steps off to go to his family or his business, that his train has been under the keen supervision of an army of trained officials and employees during every minute of its progress; that its arrival at, and departure from, each station has been ticked over the wire to the train despatcher; that all meeting-points with other trains have been carefully prepared for; that rules and orders have been issued providing for every possible contingency; that, in fact, as an old railroad man said to me once, "if everybody obeyed orders, collisions would be possible only when brought about by unavoidable accidents!"
These men are carefully chosen, and only long and faithful service, a strictly first-class moral character, and undoubted ability to perform the duties of the position will insure their promotion to the higher offices or their retention in them.
Promotion on a railroad is slow, and for merit only.
MY FIRST JOB.
"Very well," said the young man; "I am the yardmaster here, and as I am rather short of brakemen and you appear to be a likely young fellow, I will give you a job. Keep your eyes and ears open; obey orders strictly, whether you can or not, and"—here he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back just as I was about to step directly in front of a rapidly approaching car which an engine had kicked in on that track and which would certainly have put an end to my railroading there and then—"be careful never, under any circumstances, no matter how big a hurry you are in, to step upon a railroad track anywhere, without first looking both ways; and if you see anything approaching near enough, so that there is any doubt about your being able to cross in perfect safety at an ordinary walk, don't go; always give everything on wheels the right of way."
I have remembered and followed that rule to this day, even in the city streets, and to it I attribute in a great measure the fact that I am alive yet.
"When will you be ready to go to work?" asked the yardmaster. I told him, "Right away." "All right," said he, and then, looking at his watch:
"Well, I don't know but that you had better get your dinner first; it's now eleven thirty, and there's no use of your getting killed on an empty stomach. Do you see that office over there by those green cars?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, go and get your dinner, and report to me there at 1 p.m. sharp."
"All right, sir," said I, "and thank you very much for your kindness."
"Oh, that's all right. Go along now, and be sure and get back on time."
Away I went to my hotel for dinner, highly elated at my success. I was now indeed, I thought, a genuine railroad man. To be sure, I didn't quite like all those allusions to killing and maiming; but I thought they had only been thrown out to try my nerve, and I congratulated myself that I had shown no sign of flinching.
I was wrong in my conjecture, however; for, like all railroad yards, it was more or less of a slaughter-house, and one poor fellow's life was crushed out of
Copyright, 1897, by Herbert E. Hamblen.
