CHAPTER IV
THE P----N COMPANY
The P----n Company is a big palace, dining and sleeping car company thatmost American people know a great deal about. I had long desired to havea run on one of the magnificent sleepers that operated out of Chicago toevery part of North America, that I might have an opportunity to see thecountry and make money at the same time, and from Monday to Friday I hadnothing to do but report at one of the three P----n offices in my effortto get such a position. One office where I was particularly attentive,operated cars on four roads, so I called on this office about twice aweek, but a long, slim chief clerk whose chair guarded the entrance tothe Superintendent's office would drawl out lazily: "We don't need anymen today." I had been to the office a number of times before I leftEaton and had heard his drawl so often that I grew nervous whenever helooked at me. That district employed over a thousand porters and therewas no doubt that they hired them every day. One day I was telling mytroubles to a friendly porter whom I later learned to be George Cole(former husband of the present wife of Bert Williams, the comedian). Headvised me to see Mr. Miltzow, the Superintendent.
"But I can never see him" I said despairingly, "for that long imbecileof a clerk."
"Jump him some day when he is on the way from luncheon, talk fast, tellhim how you have been trying all summer to 'get on', the old man" hesaid, referring to the superintendent, "likes big, stout youngsters likeyou, so try it." The next day I watched him from the street and when hestarted to descend the long stairway to his office, I gathered mycourage and stepped to his side. I told him how I had fairly haunted hisoffice, only to be turned away regularly by the same words; that I wouldlike a position if he would at any time need any men. He went into hisoffice, leaving me standing at the railing, where I held my grounds indefiance of the chief clerk's insolent stare. After a few minutes helooked up and called out "Come in here, you." As I stood before him helooked me over searchingly and inquired as to whether I had anyreferences.
"No Sir," I answered quickly, "but I can get them." I was beside myselfwith nervous excitement and watched him eagerly for fear he might turnme away at the physicological moment, and that I would fail to get whatI had wanted so long.
"Well," he said in a decisive tone, "get good references, showing whatyou have been doing for the last five years, bring them around and I'lltalk to you."
"Thank you Sir," I blurted out and with hopes soaring I hurried out anddown the steps. Going to my room, I wrote for references to people inM--pls who had known me all my life. Of course they sent me the best ofletters, which I took immediately to Mr. Miltzow's office. After lookingthem over carelessly he handed them to his secretary asking me whetherI was able to buy a uniform. When I answered in the affirmative he gaveme a letter to the company's tailor, and one to the instructor, who thenext day gave me my first lessons in a car called the "school" in anearby railroad yard placed there for that purpose. I learned all thatwas required in a day, although he had some pupils who had been with himfive days before I started and who graduated with me. I now thought Iwas a full-fledged porter and was given an order for equipment, combs,brushes, etc., a letter from the instructor to the man that signed outthe runs, a very apt appearing young man with a gift for rememberingnames and faces, who instructed me to report on the morrow. The thoughtof my first trip the next day, perhaps to some distant city I had neverseen, caused me to lie awake the greater part of the night.
When I went into the porter's room the next day, or "down in the hole,"as the basement was called, and looked into the place, I found itcrowded with men, and mostly old men at that and I felt sure it would bea long time before I was sent out. However, I soon learned that the mostof them were "emergency men" or emergies, men who had been dischargedand who appeared regularly in hopes of getting a car that could not besupplied with a regular man.
There was one by the name of Knight, a pitiable and forlorn character inwhose breast "hope sprang eternal," who came to the "hole" every day,and in an entire year he had made one lone trip. He lived by "mooching"a dime, quarter or fifty cents from first one porter then another andby helping some porters make down beds in cars that went out on midnighttrains. It was said that he had been discharged on account of too strictadherence to duty. Every member of a train crew, whether porter,brakeman or conductor, must carry a book of rules; more as a matter ofform than to show to passengers as Knight had done. A trainman should,and does, depend more on his judgment than on any set of rules, andpermits the rule to be stretched now and then to fit circumstances.Knight, however, courted his rule book and when a passenger requestedsome service that the rules prohibited, such for instance as an extrapillow to a berth, and if the passenger insisted or showeddissatisfaction Knight would get his book of rules, turn to the chapterwhich dwelt on the subject and read it aloud to the already disgruntledpassenger, thereby making more or less of a nuisance to the travelingpublic.
But I am digressing. Fred, the "sign-out-clerk" came along and the manyvoices indulging in loud and raucous conversation so characteristic ofporters off duty, gave way to respectful silence. He looked favorably onthe regular men but seemed to pass up the emergies as he entered. Thepoor fellows didn't expect to be sent out but it seemed to fascinatethem to hear the clerk assign the regular men their cars to some distantcities in his cheerful language such as: "Hello! Brooks, where did youcome from?--From San Antonio? Well take the car 'Litchfield' to Oakland;leaves on Number Three at eleven o'clock to-night over the B. & R.N.;have the car all ready, eight lowers made down." And from one to theother he would go, signing one to go east and another west. Respectfullysilent and attentive the men's eyes would follow him as he moved on,each and every man eager to know where he would be sent.
Finally he got to me. He had an excellent memory and seemed to know allmen by name. "Well Devereaux," he said, "do you think that you can run acar?"
"Yes Sir!" I answered quickly. He fumbled his pencil thoughtfully whileI waited nervously then went on:
"And you feel quite capable of running a car, do you?"
"Yes Sir" I replied with emphasis, "I learned thoroughly yesterday."
"Well," he spoke as one who has weighed the matter and is not quitecertain but willing to risk, and taking his pad and pencil he wrote,speaking at the same time, "You go out to the Ft. Wayne yards and get onthe car 'Altata', goes extra to Washington D.C. at three o'clock; putaway the linen, put out combs, brushes and have the car in order whenthe train backs down."
"Yes Sir," and I hurried out of the room, up the steps and onto thestreet where I could give vent to my elation. To Washington, first ofall places. O Glory! and I fairly flew out to Sixteenth street where theP.F. & W. passenger yards were located. Here not less than seven hundredpassenger and and P----n cars are cleaned and put in readiness for eachtrip daily, and standing among them I found the Altata. O wonderfulname! She was a brand new observation car just out of the shops. I darednot believe my eyes, and felt that there must be some mistake; surelythe company didn't expect to send me out with such a fine car on myfirst trip. But I should have known better, for among the many thousandsof P----n cars with their picturesque names, there was not another"Altata." I looked around the yards and finally inquired of a cleaner asto where the Altata was. "Right there," he said, pointing to the car Ihad been looking at and I boarded her nervously; found the linen andlockers but was at a loss to know how and where to start getting the carin order. I was more than confused and what I had learned so quickly theday before had vanished like smoke. I was afraid too, that if I didn'thave the car in order I'd be taken off when the train backed down andbecome an "emergie" myself. This shocked me so it brought me to mysenses and I got busy putting the linen somewhere and when the trainstopped in the shed the car, as well as myself, was fairly presentableand ready to receive.
Then came the rush of passengers with all their attending requests forattention. "Ah Poiter, put my grip in Thoiteen," and "Ah Poiter, willyou raise my window and put in a deflector?" Holy Smitherin
es! I rushedback and forth like a lost calf, trying to recall what a deflector was,and I couldn't distinguish thoiteen from three. Then--"Ah, Poiter, willyou tell me when we get to Valparaiso?" called a little blonde lady,"You see, I have a son who is attending the Univoisity theah--now Poiterdon't forget please" she asked winsomely.
"Oh! No, Maam," I assured her confidently that I never forgot anything.My confusion became so intense had I gotten off the car I'd probably nothave known which way to get on again.
The clerk seemed to sense my embarrassment and helped me seat thepassengers in their proper places, as well as to answer the numerousquestions directed at me. The G.A.R. encampment was on in Washington andthe rush was greater than usual on that account. By the time the trainreached Valparaiso I had gotten somewhat accustomed to the situation andrecalled my promise to the little blonde lady and filled it. She hadbeen asleep and it was raining to beat-the-band. With a sigh she lookedout of the window and then turned on her side and fell asleep again. AtPittsburg I was chagrined to be turned back and sent over the P.H. & D.to Chicago.
At Columbus, Ohio, we took on a colored preacher who had a ticket for anupper berth over a Southerner who had the lower. The Southern gentlemanin that "holier than thou" attitude made a vigorous kick to theconductor to have the colored "Sky-pilot," as he termed him, removed. Iheard the conductor tell him gently but firmly, that he couldn't do it.Then after a few characteristic haughty remarks the Southerner wentforward to the chair car and sat up all night. When I got the shoesshined and lavatory ready for the morning rush I slipped into theSoutherner's berth and had a good snooze. However, longer than it shouldhave been, for the conductor found me the next morning as the train waspulling into Chicago. He threatened to report me but when I told himthat it was my first trip out, that I hadn't had any sleep the nightbefore and none the night before that on account of my restlessness inanticipation of the trip, he relented and helped me to make up the beds.
I barely got to my room before I was called to go out again. This timegoing through to Washington. The P.F. & W. tracks pass right throughWashington's "black belt" and it might be interesting to the reader toknow that Washington has more colored people than any other Americancity. I had never seen so many colored people. In fact, the entirepopulation seemed to be negroes. There was an old lady from South Dakotaon my car who seemed surprised at the many colored people and afterlooking quite intently for some time she touched me on the sleeve,whispering, "Porter, aren't there anything but colored people here?" Ireplied that it seemed so.
At the station a near-mob of colored boys huddled before the steps and Ithought they would fairly take the passengers off their feet by the waythey crowded around them. However, they were harmless and only wanted toearn a dime by carrying grips. Two of them got a jui jitsu grip on thatof the old lady from South Dakota, and to say that she became frightenedwould be putting it mildly. Just then a policeman came along and theboys scattered like flies and the old lady seemed much relieved. Havingsince taken up my abode in that state myself, and knowing that therewere but few negroes inhabiting it, I have often wondered since how shemust have felt on that memorable trip of hers, as well as mine.
After working some four months on various and irregular runs that tookme to all the important cities of the United States east of theMississippi River, I was put on a regular run to Portland, Oregon. Thiswas along in February and about the same time that I banked my first onehundred dollars. If my former bank account had stirred my ambition andbecome an incentive to economy and a life of modest habits, the largerone put everything foolish and impractical entirely out of my mind, andeconomy, modesty and frugality became fixed habits of my life.
At a point in Wyoming on my run to Portland my car left the main lineand went over another through Idaho and Oregon. From there no berthtickets were sold by the station agents and the conductors collected thecash fares, and had for many years mixed the company's money with theirown. I soon found myself in the mire along with the conductors. "Gettingin" was easy and tips were good for a hundred dollars a month andsometimes more. "Good Conductors," a name applied to "color blind" cons,were worth seventy-five, and with the twenty-five dollar salary from thecompany, I averaged two hundred dollars a month for eighteen months.
There is something fascinating about railroading, and few men reallytire of it. In fact, most men, like myself, rather enjoy it. I nevertired of hearing the t-clack of the trucks and the general roar of thetrain as it thundered over streams and crossings throughout the days andnights across the continent to the Pacific coast. The scenery nevergrew old, as it was quite varied between Chicago and North Platte.During the summer it is one large garden farm, dotted with numerouscities, thriving hamlets and towns, fine country homes so characteristicof the great middle west, and is always pleasing to the eye.
Between North Platte and Julesburg, Colorado, is the heart of thesemi-arid region, where the yearly rainfall is insufficient to maturecrops, but where the short buffalo grass feeds the rancher's herdswinter and summer. As the car continues westward, climbing higher andhigher as it approaches the Rockies, the air becomes quite rare. AtCheyenne the air is so light it blows a gale almost steadily, and theeye can discern objects for miles away while the ear cannot hear soundsover twenty rods. I shall not soon forget how I was wont to gaze at theherds of cattle ten to thirty miles away grazing peacefully on the greatLaramie plains to the south, while beyond that lay the great AmericanRockies, their ragged peaks towering above in great sepulchral forms,filling me alternately with a feeling of romance or adventure, dependingsomewhat on whether it was a story of the "Roundup," or some otherarticle typical of the west, I was reading.
Nearing the Continental divide the car pulls into Rawlins, which isabout the highest, driest and most uninviting place on the line. Fromhere the stage lines radiate for a hundred miles to the north and south.Near here is Medicine Bow, where Owen Wister lays the beginning scenesof the "Virginian"; and beyond lies Rock Springs, the home of the famouscoal that bears its name and which commands the highest price of anybituminous coal. The coal lies in wide veins, the shafts runhorizontally and there are no deep shafts as there are in the coalfields of Illinois and other Central states.
From here the train descends a gentle slope to Green River, Wyoming, adivision point in the U.P. South on the D. & R.G. is Green River, Utah.Arriving at Granger one feels as though he had arrived at the jumpingoff place of creation. Like most all desert stations it contains nothingof interest and time becomes a bore. Here the traffic is divided and theO.S.L. takes the Portland and Butte section into Idaho where the scenerysuddenly begins to get brighter. Indeed, the country seems to take on abeautiful and cheerful appearance; civilization and beautiful farms takethe place of the wilderness, sage brush and skulking coyotes. Thanks tothe irrigation ditch.
After crossing the picturesque American Falls of Snake River, the trainsoon arrives at Minidoka. This is the seat of the great Minidokaproject, in which the United States Government has taken such an activeinterest and constructed a canal over seventy miles in length. This hasconverted about a quarter of a million acres of Idaho's volcanic ashsoil into productive lands that bloom as the rose. It was the beautifulvalley of the Snake River, with its indescribable scenery and its manybeautiful little cities, that attracted my attention and looked asthough it had a promising future. I had contemplated investing in someof its lands and locating, if I should happen to be compelled by stressof circumstances to change my occupation. This came to pass shortlythereafter.
The end came after a trip between Granger and Portland, in company witha shrewd Irish conductor by the name of Wright, who not only "knockeddown" the company's money, but drank a good deal more whiskey than wasgood for him. On this last trip, when Wright took charge of the car atGranger, he began telling about his newly acquired "dear little wifey."Also confiding to me that he had quit drinking and was going to quit"knocking down"--after that trip. Oh, yes! Wright was always going todispense with all things dishonest and dish
onorable--at some futuredate. Another bad thing about Wright was that he would steal, not onlyfrom the company, but from the porter as well, by virtue of the rulethat required the porter to take a duplicate receipt from the conductorfor each and every passenger riding on his car, whether the passengerhas a ticket or pays cash fare. These receipts are forwarded to theAuditor of the company at the end of each run.
Wright's method of stealing from the porter was not to turn over anyduplicates or receipts until arriving at the terminus. Then he wouldchoose a time when the porter was very busy brushing the passengers'clothes and getting the tips, and would then have no time to count up ortell just how many people had ridden. I had received information fromothers concerning him and was cautioned to watch. So on our first trip Iquietly checked up all the passengers as they got on and where they gotoff, as well as the berth or seat they occupied. Arriving at Grangergoing east he gave me the wink and taking me into the smoking room heproceeded to give me the duplicates and divide the spoils. He gave mesix dollars, saying he had cut such and such a passenger's fare and thatwas my part. I summed up and the amount "knocked down" was thirty-onedollars. I showed him my figures and at the same time told him to handover nine-fifty more. How he did rage and swear about theresponsibilities being all on him, that he did all the collecting andthe "dirty work" in connection therewith, that the company didn't firethe porter. He said before he would concede to my demands he would turnall the money in to the company and report me for insolence. I satcalmly through it all and when he had exhausted his vituperations Icalmly said "nine-fifty, please." I had no fear of his doing any of thethings threatened for I had dealt with grafting conductors long enoughto know that when they determined on keeping a fare they weren't likelyto turn in their portion to spite the porter, and Wright was noexception.
But getting back to the last trip. An old lady had given me a quart ofOld Crow Whiskey bottled in bond. There had been perhaps a half pinttaken out. I thanked her profusely and put it in the locker, and sinceWright found that he could not keep any of my share of the "knockeddown" fares he was running straight--that is with me, and we were quitefriendly, so I told him of the gift and where to find it if he wanted a"smile." In one end of the P----n where the drawing room cuts off themain portion of the car, and at the beginning of the curved aisle andopposite to the drawing room, is the locker. When its door is open itcompletely closes the aisle, thus hiding a person from view behind it.Before long I saw Wright open the door and a little later could hear himease the bottle down after taking a drink.
When we got to Portland, Wright was feeling "about right" and the bottlewas empty. As he divided the money with me he cried: "Let her run onthree wheels." It was the last time he divided any of the company'smoney with a porter. When he stepped into the office at the end of thattrip he was told that they "had a message from Ager" the assistantgeneral superintendent, concerning him. Every employee knew that amessage from this individual meant "off goes the bean." I never sawWright afterwards, for they "got" me too that trip.
The little Irish conductor, who was considered the shrewdest of theshrewd, had run a long time and "knocked down" a great amount of thecompany's money but the system of "spotting" eventually got him as itdoes the best of them.
I now had two thousand, three hundred and forty dollars in the bank. Theodd forty I drew out, and left the remainder on deposit, packed my trunkand bid farewell to Armour Avenue and Chicago's Black Belt with its beercans, drunken men and women, and turned my face westward with the spiritof Horace Greeley before and his words "Go west, young man, and grow upwith the country" ringing in my ears. So westward I journeyed to theland of raw material, which my dreams had pictured to me as the land ofreal beginning, and where I was soon to learn more than a mere observerever could by living in the realm of a great city.
The Conquest: The Story of a Negro Pioneer Page 5