Читать книгу Seeking Fortune in America - F. W. Grey - Страница 7

Table of Contents

Chicago—American Business Methods—Work as a Carbonator—Chicago Fair—“Hard-luck” Stories—Remittance-men.

Chicago, which lays claim to having the largest in everything, whether it be drainage canals, skyscrapers, slaughter-houses, or the amount of railroad traffic, is certainly a wonderful city.

The first thing that strikes any one on arrival is the hurry and rush. Everybody seems to be going somewhere in a terrible hurry, but after you have been there a few months you find yourself getting into the same habit. My first position—i.e., appointment as distinguished from job—I got through a friend, a Mr. Bole, of New York, who gave me a letter to the Chicago Great Western Railway, where I secured a post in the claims department of that road. Here I worked two months, and drew the large salary for a beginner of $50 per month. Then there came a change of management, and out I went along with hundreds of others. Here, let me remark, lies one of the curses of American business methods. A new head of a department, new manager, or new president in any corporation, generally means a change of men all the way down the line, as all of them have men of their own to fill the places. So that generally a superintendent, manager, or president has a set of men that follow him around from place to place. These are his henchmen, and he sees that they get places where he is. They are, of course, efficient, and men he can trust, and whom, therefore, he wants near him; but what of the poor devils that are ousted?

Of course none of this applied to my case, as I got my position through pull (recommendation), though I had to hold it down myself, and naturally went as soon as my pull went. But I have known many cases where there was much hardship and wrong done. I know a man who worked twenty-six years for one railroad corporation, working his way up from brakeman to divisional superintendent, which position he held during the four years I knew him; a harder worker and a finer man I never knew. A new president was elected from another railroad, and this man and five other divisional superintendents were forced to resign in the first three weeks of the new reign, to make way for men off the railroad from which the new president had come.

Long service can claim no reward as in England, and that is why there is not the same loyalty of the men to their employers as there; and that is why a man is always ready to leave one firm and give his work and the experience he has gained to an opposition firm, provided there are any inducements offered. However, the main thing was to get another job, and I was lucky enough to hear of one almost at once. The firm who had the soda-water concession at the fair-grounds were looking for carbonators, and were offering $3 per day; so I hastened to apply. I had not the remotest idea what the work consisted of, but in America that is not considered a bar to a man applying for any job. When I was shown into the august presence, he snapped out, “What do you want?” I replied, “Job as a carbonator.” He scribbled on a piece of paper, handed it to me, and said, “Report Monday, office electrical building,” and I was duly hired. Luckily, he was too busy to ask me for any references. The next thing was to find out what I was hired to do. So off I went to the fair-ground, and looked around till I saw some men installing a soda-fountain in one of the buildings. These I asked where I could find one of the carbonators, and, getting the desired information, I looked the man up, got into conversation, and, finding him a decent sort of fellow, proceeded to explain to him the situation, and offered him $5 if he would show me the work and teach me enough to pass inspection the Monday following. He started right in, and I spent the rest of the time with him, learning to rock the cradle, handle the gas-tanks, and watch the pressure-gauge—in fact, all the secrets of carbonating. On Monday I reported for duty, and was given a section of about a hundred tanks, which I was supposed to keep charged. The company had about two hundred soda-fountains in the grounds, and about twelve hundred tanks scattered all through the buildings. I have a natural bent for mechanics, and also great good luck, and I was soon able to carbonate with any of them. In fact, I got quite “cocky” about it, till one day my pride got a fall, and under unfortunate circumstances. The firm who had the concession were wholesale liquor dealers, and one of them who had taken a fancy to me (the reason I will explain later) would sometimes stop and talk to me if he met me on my rounds. Well, one day I was just going down into the basement of one of the buildings to charge some tanks, when he came along. So as not to delay me, he came down into the basement with me, to talk while I worked. We were in the midst of a great discussion while I happened to be screwing the cap into one of the tanks, and being so interested in the conversation I was careless, and did not notice that the cap had “cross-threaded,” and that, when I thought it tight, only about two or three threads were holding. I opened the gas-tank cock and commenced rocking, talking all the time while watching the gauge. I had almost got it to 140 lbs. pressure (which was the pressure we used, so that there should be lots of froth and little liquid), when bang! fizz! away went the cap, and soda-water was shooting all over the place. It was a sight to see that fat man take those steps at a bound; and I only waited to shut off the carbonic acid gas-tank, before I followed at the same gait, to head him off from the office. He was near the head of the stairs getting his breath when I reached him. I managed to calm him down, and explained what had happened, and how, and begged him not to report me. He promised not to, but said “he thought it a most dangerous occupation.” He had taken a fancy to me for two reasons, first because, when time hung heavy on my hands and I had nothing to do, I would go over to the office and ask them if there was not something they wanted done, and would carry “small change” out to the cashiers and bring in the bills, and, besides, never kicked about working a little late, as we sometimes did in the evenings. Of course, when we worked over an hour late we got extra pay for it; but what I allude to is the ten or fifteen minutes late we often were. The second reason was because I was English, and he a rabid American of the “greatest-country-on-earth” type; and he loved to argue with me on the relative greatness and strength of the two countries. I really think that when I left the firm’s employ he was beginning to believe that the State of Rhode Island alone could not lick the British Empire, but might need some assistance from Delaware!

Out in the lake, near the British building, a half-sized model had been built, of brick, of the battleship Illinois (or the cruiser Chicago, I forget which). One day this man insisted on taking me over to look at it, and then said to me quite seriously, “Now do you really dare to tell me that there is a ship in the British navy as big and fine as that?” To argue with such a man as this one has to stretch a point, as Americans are very fond of doing, and I told him that a boat of that size was generally used as a pinnace aboard a British man-of-war. Americans love humorous exaggeration. An American, discussing with a stranger the forty-five-storey building of the Singer Company in New York, said, “Yes, they are really getting too high now; in Chicago they have a building that has snow on the roof all the year round.” However, the best of friends must part, and I left the firm’s employ through a nephew of my friend, who did not care to argue. One night there was something special on—I think it was the night they had fireworks for the Princess Eulalia of Spain—and the firm wanted to keep running till 12 P.M. Just as I was leaving, this nephew came and asked me if I would stay on if he would allow me a full day’s pay for the six hours. I agreed and stayed, but when Saturday came round I only received my regular wages. The nephew was standing outside the office, so I went up to him and spoke to him about it, and he denied having made me any such promise. He reached the office door just one jump in the lead, and all that saved him was the fact that they had a wire netting from the pay counter clear to the ceiling, which I could not get through. The old man, hearing the racket, came up and offered to pay me out of his own pocket; but I was young and independent, and would have none of it.

One rather amusing experience I had out at the fair-grounds before this occurred. At that time I had not quite forgotten the Hindustani learned during a year in India. I had just delivered some change at one of the fountains, and was taking a drink of ice-cream soda, when I overheard two gentlemen, who were also taking a drink, making comments, in Hindustani, on the good looks of the girl cashier. In fun I said, also in Hindustani, “Be careful what you say.” I thought they would choke as they hastily swallowed their drinks and fled. It must have astonished them to find an American labourer in overalls who was able to understand and answer them in a language they naturally thought unknown over here.

Next I tried to get work in the grounds, and failed; and then began the hardest struggle for existence I have ever had. At the time I thought it a terrible experience, but I have realised since that the year I spent in Chicago has been worth more to me in education than all the years previous to it. It taught me the value of money; to curb my temper, even under the greatest provocation; to hang on to one job, no matter what it was, till I had another one better; and, last but not least (since I became an employer of labour), always to give a young, inexperienced lad a chance and see what is in him. I have in hundreds of places been met with the answer, “We only need experienced men,” and have wondered how on earth a man was to get experience unless some one would give him a chance to start and learn. I met with much hardness, and also with exceptional kindness; and now that I have pulled through, I am glad that I went through the experience.

I am afraid I am getting long-winded over what we call “hard-luck” stories here, but it really seems a bad state of affairs that a man who is really willing to work, and is not particular what the work is, has actually to go hungry for the want of it. The greatest curse to the English name in the United States is a class of Englishmen who are known as “remittance-men.” They are content to live on what they are able to get from home, and live as “gentlemen,” but would be insulted if you asked them why they do not go to work. I have met hundreds of such men, who would tell you that the reason they do not work is that they cannot find work that a gentleman could do, and could not think of taking other work, as they have the family name in their keeping. They are the laughing-stock of the communities in which they live.