domain, has won the praise of the world. Our rough and ready brethren
are finding that, as society rapidly becomes more highly organized,
this old-time efficiency must be supplemented with technical
education. So you find your self-made magnate giving his sons college
educations. The only regrettable part is that to make it easy the old
man raises the low joints for the boys and they do not always get
bumpings enough to test their equipment thoroughly. Time will correct
this, and more college men, more presidents' sons, will fire, will
switch, will brake, will become men behind cars as well as men behind
desks. It is not only what you know, but what you make people believe
you know, that counts in this little game of life. The American people
never go back on a man who puts aside birth or education and stakes
his all upon his manhood; who is willing to share the dangers and the
hardships of his calling. Our military men have long since learned
this lesson, and the son of the general must do the same guard duty,
make the same marches, dig the same trenches, and face the same
bullets as his fellows. His father knows that for it to be otherwise
would be to handicap the son by the contempt of his comrades. Like the
Spartan mother, he says: "My son, return with your shield or upon it."
Did you ever consider how uncertain a quantity is opportunity, as
inscrutable as the ways of Providence? In all ages and in all callings
it has been one of the numerous mysteries that make life so
attractive. There is many a veteran conductor, many a gray-haired
station agent, who, if he could have had the chance to start, would
have become a general manager. Some men have to go to another road to
be fully appreciated. When a man is young he is criticized if he
changes roads. When he is older his services are sought because of his
varied experience with different roads. Human nature is prone to limit
the length of everybody's train to the capacity of its own sidetracks.
In the spring of 1861 there went from his tannery at Galena to the
capital of Illinois an ex-officer, a professional soldier, whose
gallantry and efficiency had stood the tests of the war with Mexico.
Springfield was filled with commission seekers, natives of the State,
and Illinois, like some railroads, did not wish to go off her own
rails for talent. She needed trained clerks to make out muster rolls,
to book wheel reports in the yard office, as it were. This humble
employment the silent soldier accepted with better grace than has
characterized some former railway officials under similar
circumstances. The opportunity came in the shape of a mutinous
regiment, which, like a mountain division, was hard to handle. Three
years later the clerk had run around all the officers, was commanding
all the armies of the Union, and the world rang with the military fame
of Ulysses S. Grant. Strange indeed is opportunity. Some successful
railroad men owe their official start to the seeming bad luck of being
let out as an employe.
Your general manager said that he had read some of my letters to you;
threw me a warm jolly by remarking that you are a credit to such
teaching. Then he confessed that he had asked the son if the old man
always practices what he preaches. I am pleased to know from his own
lips that you uncovered his headlight on that point.
Affectionately, your own
D. A. D.
LETTER IX.
CORRESPONDENCE AND TELEGRAMS.
May 15, 1904.
My Dear Boy:--You have asked me to say something more on the subject
of correspondence and telegrams. In these days of push the button for
the stenographer, letters and telegrams are longer than when the
officials themselves wrote out communications in long-hand. It
therefore usually remains for employes like yardmasters, conductors
and operators to preserve the good old terse style of the past. Some
of them send messages that are models of comprehensiveness and
brevity. When you run across a man who is an artist in that sort of
thing keep an eye on him. The chances are that he uses the same good
judgment in all of his work; that he accomplishes the greatest
possible amount with the least possible effort; that he takes
advantage of the easiest and best way; that he has the prime
requisites of a coming official, namely, a cool head and horse sense.
Of course, the matter of terseness can be run into the ground.
Clearness should not be sacrificed to brevity. There is a happy medium
between the off agin, on agin, gone agin, Finnegan, of the Irish
section foreman and the regretsky to reportsky of the Russian general.
The point to be gained is to avoid repetition and unnecessary words.
When wiring your office that you will go east on Number Two, the word
east is superfluous for the reason that on your road Number Two can
not possibly run west. For years in our train orders we used the
phrase, right of track. Then somebody was bright enough to think that
as Stonewall Jackson is no longer hauling locomotives from one line to
another over the Valley turnpike in Virginia, the words "of track"
might be cut out. Similar amputations have been made in the morning
delay reports of many roads.
Human nature is so prone to grasp at the shadow rather than the
substance that men cling to words rather than to ideas. When you have
written a bulletin directing something to be done, do not discount
your faith in its effect by the introduction of our good old friend,
"Be Governed Accordingly." We get in the habit of doing a thing simply
because we have always seen it done and know no other way. We paint on
the sides of our cars such unnecessary words as baggage, chair,
dining, parlor, furniture, stock, etc., etc., just as though these
cars were never used for anything else; just as though the words
really served some useful purpose. The people who do not know the
different kinds of cars are beyond the reach of instruction through
such information. You have heard of the man who entered the dining car
by mistake and asked, "Is this the smoking car?" Whereupon a waiter
grinned and replied, "No, suh, this is the chewin' cah." The Pullman
people years ago discontinued the use of the words "sleeping car" on
their equipment. It is not of record that the voices of the car
inspectors and the switchmen on the outside have awakened any more
passengers than usual on account of such omission.
We borrowed from the army and the navy the idea of uniforms for
employes, brass buttons, gold lace and all. Lately soldiers and
sailors are wearing plainer, simpler service uniforms. We, however,
have not taken a tumble, perhaps because no one has hit us with a
club, or run into our switch shanty and knocked it off the right of
way. The cap is the essential feature of a trainman's uniform. He
doesn't exactly talk through it, but its badge and ornaments identify
his responsibilities and proclaim his authority. Add to the cap a
plain blue uniform suit with the detachable black buttons the tailor
furnishes, and you have a very satisfactory result. The cap then
becomes the only difference between the costume for the road and that
for the street. Where tried, it has been found that men wore their
best suits on duty and on the street, and kept their worn and shabby
suits to wear around home. At present on nearly all roads, as the
uniform is too conspicuous to be worn off duty, the men are tempted to
defer buying a new uniform until the old becomes very shabby. It has
been found that freight crews are easily induced to take advantage of
the contract price to buy such plain uniforms for street wear. Such
freight crews can be provided with extra caps from the office in
emergencies and be utilized to advantage; sometimes reducing the
amount of deadhead mileage in making special one-way passenger
movements. The street railway of at least one large city has tried
this system of plain uniforms with excellent results. Why should the
most of us be so timid that we must have a precedent before we can
endorse a proposed plan? Like a successful after-dinner speaker, I am
responding to the toast on expression by talking about other things.
In writing important letters or instructions it often pays to take the
time to sit down and make a rough draft with a lead pencil. If you
have the dictation habit so firmly fixed that this is irksome, revise
the first draft made by the stenographer. Except when writing in the
familiar style, the third person should be used rather than the first
or second. The use of the second person should be carefully avoided in
formulating general instructions; its use in special instructions to a
few individuals is sometimes, but rarely, permissible. In writing or
dictating telegrams figure roughly what the message would cost the
company for transmission at commercial rates, and its probable
reduction if the price per extra word came out of your own pocket. As
far as possible avoid letting your initials become cheap by being used
by too many people. If the management do not disapprove, encourage your
subordinates to do routine business over their own initials or over
symbols, as S. for superintendent (G.S. for general superintendent,
and so on), so that when your initials come over the wire they will
indicate personal attention and final action. This, too, has been
tried successfully in contravention of the fallacy that unquestioning
obedience must be rendered even when it is known that the official's
initials have been signed by the office boy. It may be remarked in
passing, that appreciation and fame await the individual who will be
able to coin some short and expressive words to replace such awkward
and cumbrous designations as superintendent of motive power, engineer
maintenance of way, assistant to the first vice-president, etc., etc.
Did you ever think how desirable and practicable it would be to adopt
the Government method of addressing the office instead of the
incumbent by name? We do this with train orders, and usually in
addressing station agents. We should also address "The Superintendent,
Getthere Division, Suchtown, Somestate," and not use his name unless
it is intended as personal and to be opened by him alone.
In all correspondence remember that a reprimand, expressed or implied,
may be taken in a very different sense by the recipient from that
intended by the sender. Your old dad has maintained satisfactory
discipline among quite a bunch of men on more than one trunk line
without ever writing a letter of reprimand or sending a hot message
over the wire. The advice of the famous politician to walk ten miles
to see a man rather than write him a letter is paraphrased for our
business to mean rawhide yourself fifty or a hundred miles over the
road to jack up a man rather than play him a tune on the typewriter.
Another useful injunction is that of a famous soldier and diplomat,
"Never underrate yourself in action; never overrate yourself in a
report."
Affectionately, your own
D. A. D.
LETTER X.
THE BAYONET PRECEDES THE GOSPEL.
May 22, 1904.
My Dear Boy:--The evolution of the relative importance of the several
departments in railroad work is an interesting study. The early
railroads were short and usually had for president the most important
man of affairs in the community, a banker, a lawyer, a publicist, a
what-not. Frequently this man could not give his whole time to the
road and he leaned heavily upon his superintendent, who, perhaps, had
been the engineer in charge of construction. The superintendent of the
early days was general manager on a small scale, and with limited
facilities had to be a man fertile in resources. The superintendent of
to-day is a better man, because the race improves all the time, but he
performs duties of a decidedly different nature. It is idle to
speculate as to just what he would do under primitive conditions. A
return to such circumstances is impossible. We know that in a pinch
our railway officials and employes, as a class, are never found
wanting. They will measure up to standard in the future as they have
in the past. One fact they must never forget is that, like soldiers
and sailors, their faculties must be so alert, their grasp so
comprehensive, that they will not get lost when the fortunes of the
service bring them into strange territory. The pace is too swift to
admit of standing still to get one's bearings.
There were few officials and the conductors were very important
personages. When the superintendent needed an assistant it was natural
to take a conductor who helped around the office, ran the pay car and
specials, and made himself generally useful. Later on, train
dispatching developed splendid tests of executive ability and the
official staff was recruited by promotions from dispatchers. Still
later, the growing importance of terminal problems gave yardmasters a
chance for recognition and advancement.
As West Point was the nursery of the early constructing engineers,
many of the early roads were built and operated by military men, whose
impress in railway methods has survived to this day. When the civil
war was over the railroads gained for their service thousands of men
whose ability had stood the stern test of camp and battle, men who
could meet unexpected conditions. These men bore the brunt in the
wonderful railroad development that secured forever the commercial
greatness of our country. The value of military methods was
appreciated by them and almost unconsciously such methods were copied
in organization, in discipline, in correspondence. One reason the
great Pennsylvania organization is so strong and successful is the
training some of its embryo high officials received in the military
railway bureau of the War Department during the great conflict. The
bayonet always precedes the gospel. When the military have cleared the
wilderness of the savage foe the railroad brings a permanent
civilization. Witness the marvelous growth of the great West during
the last forty years.
A majority of the railroads in the country at some time or other
passed through a receivership. Here came a chance for legal men, and
after reorganizations lawyer presidents have not been uncommon. At the
next stage of development many railroads had been built and systems
were growing larger. The civil engineer, who in earlier years would
have become the president or chief operating official, was now taken
care of in a newly necessitated department, that of maintenance and
construction, sufficiently important to attract his talents. Following
this period competition was keen; it was a struggle for existence. The
man who could get the business was IT. The traffic man had his inning
and, if not president, dictated policies and the amount of his own
salary and perquisites. With the growth of the community of interest
idea the traffic man is just as important; but he is no longer
wreckmaster, and the transportation man is up under the lime light
near the derrick car. Between the different dynasties of departments
the transportation man, like the rock of ages, is always the standby
and always will be. The other departments come and go in relative
importance, but the transportation never shuts off, and is there with
the sand when the others unload from the gangway.
The revolution in standards of power and equipment incident to recent
years of tractive units and ton-mile costs has brought the mechanical
man prominently in front of the headlight. Fortunately for himself and
for the service in general he has not dodged the rays when anyone
cared to read figures, and the way to higher executive positions has
not been left dark for him. The pendulum is already coming back toward
the transportation man. Whether the next swing will be toward the
signal engineer or toward the electrician it is hard to say.
The lesson a superintendent should learn from all this is that he has
more and more superiors to please, more and more fads to follow, more
and more improvements to develop, more and more different points of
view to reconcile. He must merge his own importance, his likes and
dislikes in the great corporation with which he has cast his lot. If
his superiors spell traveler with two l's or labor with a u, let him
do likewise. By so yielding he is not losing any manhood. He is
winning a victory over the crotchety part of his individuality and
leaving room for its development along broader lines. He that ruleth
his spirit is greater than he that taketh a city. As no man can take a
city or do any great work unaided he must learn first to rule his own
spirit in order that he may rule others and gain their heartiest
co-operation. The superintendent who is habitually calm and polite,
however great the provocation to speak angrily, will soon find that if
he is firm and just his men are worrying even more than he lest things
go wrong on the division.
In the matter of discipline there has been a great change in sentiment
and in method. Whether or not it is all advisable is very much of a
question. There are too many collisions in proportion to the
improvement in material and personnel. In the old days the crew at
fault, whether they actually got together or not, were discharged and
forever barred off the road. Nowadays we are apt to give them another
trial on the theory that we are immune from future mistakes on their
part. This may or may not be so, but how about the effect on others in
the service? How about the men who are thereby entitled to promotion?
Is not a failure to make an example of such offenders holding life and
property too cheap? We may pity the unfortunate blunderers, just as we
may pity a drunkard or a thief, but their usefulness to us should be
over. They may start in again, but it must be on some other road. Our
duty to the public and to our stockholders demands that the safety of
a train should be sacred. One of the most absurd conclusions is to
measure the punishment by the amount of damage, according to how
straight the track happened to be, according to how hard they happened
to hit. Some railroad sins can be forgiven, but drunkenness, chronic
or periodic; stealing, money or property; and collisions, actual or
constructive, should be unpardonable on any road, however thoroughly
they may be blotted out elsewhere. Less sentiment and more discharges
will mean fewer collisions.
Affectionately, your own
D. A. D.
LETTER XI.
PREVENTING WRECKS BEFORE THEY HAPPEN.
May 29, 1904.
My Dear Boy:--An able and successful general manager--not all able men
and not all general managers are successful--recently called attention
to a most important distinction in the training and practice of
superintendents. He says that too much stress is laid upon the
development of ability to locate responsibility after a wreck occurs,
and not enough upon the quality of controlling circumstances, of
cultivating precautionary habits that will prevent disaster. As he
aptly puts it, the superintendent should be a doctor, a health
officer, rather than a coroner; his staff a sanitary commission, a
board of health to prevent disease rather than a jury to determine its
causes and effects. Some superintendents pride themselves on their
legal acumen, their ability to cross-examine, and on the way they can
catch a crew trying to lie out of a mix-up. This is all very well if
it does not obscure the main object, namely, to minimize disaster in
the future. The investigation serves, perhaps, to determine what men
to discipline and discharge as an example to others in the service. It
should also serve as a lesson in official methods. However thorough
and searching, it cannot restore life or return property. The damage
has been done. All the king's horses and all the king's men cannot put
Humpty-Dumpty together again.
Some of your men every day will give you the old hot air, "As long as
there are railroads there will be wrecks." To which you should hand
back the stereotyped reply, "Very true, but let's figure on letting
the other fellow have them." A discreet remark or suggestion that will
put a man to thinking for himself is one of the secrets of success in
handling men. Never miss an opportunity to make the point that wrecks
seldom occur from the neglect of any one man. It is when two or more
forget at the same time or fall down together that trouble results.
Impress on the brakeman the fact that the very stop he neglects to
flag is the time when the operator is most likely to let two trains in
the same block. Remind your conductor that when he fails to read the
orders to the engineman in person and sends them forward by the porter
or the head brakeman, that is the very trip the orders get torn or
smeared so that a fatal mistake results. When a passenger train breaks
in two the air usually sets on both portions. It fails to do so when
bums or misplaced safety chains have turned the angle cocks; and that
is the time there should be a trainman riding in the rear car. Men
will tell you so and so cannot happen, but next week it does happen
just the same. The whistle hose and the brake hose cannot be coupled
together because the connections are purposely made of a different
pattern. A green apprentice coupling an engine to a tender at a
roundhouse managed to pound together the couplings of the wrong pairs
of hose, which the engine inspector had failed to notice were badly
worn. That was the day the car inspectors neglected to try the signal
and the air before the train left the terminal. By a strange fatality
the conductor trusted the car men for the station test. The engineman
was too busy to make a running test. They all got wise when the air
wouldn't work at the first railroad crossing. Watch the inspectors to
see that they do not form the lazy habit of giving the signal to try
the air from the next to the last car, of walking only half the length
of the train to see the pistons and the brakeshoes. Never wink at an
irregularity of that sort. It will come back to plague you a
hundredfold. Go right after it quietly, but promptly and effectually.
Do not wait for disaster or for investigation by your superiors to
tell you that a loose practice prevails. Get such information with
your own senses or from observations of your staff.
It is vigilance, eternal vigilance, that is the price of safety. Teach
your men that a hundred successes do not justify an avoidable failure,
that twenty years of faithful service cannot condone criminal
carelessness. A fundamental is that when backing up there should
always be a man on the rear end. Educate your men to feel that neglect
of this wise precaution is just as mortifying as to appear in public
without clothes. In shoving long cuts of cars without using air, get
your brakemen and switchmen to feel a pride in setting a hand brake on
the end car to take the slack and save the jerk on the drawbars. Work
for the old-time feeling of chagrin that came to the calloused-armed
passenger brakeman, in the days of Armstrong brakes, when he did not
go after them soon enough and let his train run by the station. The
men are not to blame for this loss of pride and interest. We, the
officials, are at fault. We have not kept ahead of the game. We have
been coroners, not sanitary inspectors.
If an engine is waiting at a hand derail or at a crossover for a
train, neither switch should be thrown until the train has passed.
Then, if the throttle happens to fly open at just the wrong moment,
the train will not be sideswiped. If not trained, your switchmen will
throw every switch possible beforehand so as to be ready. They may
think such precautions are old womanish, but the time will come when
your wisdom will be vindicated. If a train is waiting for a
connection, with a siding switch in rear, the facing point switch
should be opened, so that if the incoming man loses his air or
misjudges distances the train will not be hit. Similarly a flagman
going back to protect a train between switches should open the siding
switch as he passes it. The switch is more effectual than a torpedo,
and if a following train happens to get by him and his torpedoes his
own train will not be hit. He should flag just the same, because a
train entering the open switch too fast might turn over. It is better
to take a chance on a derailment than on a collision. It is better
still to have such training, vigilance and discipline that there will
be little chance of either disaster.
Train your men to do things because they are right, because it is
manly to do good railroading. Then, when you hold an investigation you
will not find at the moment the accident happened that the engineman
was priming his injector, the fireman putting in a fire, the head
brakeman shoveling down coal, the conductor sorting his bills, and the
hind man starting to boil coffee for supper.
There is hardly a conductor or an engineman of any length of service
who has not at some time overlooked an order or a train. When he has
forgotten, his partner has remembered. The trouble has come, bad luck,
they call it, when they both forgot. Many a $50 operator has saved the
job of a $150 engineman. Keep your men keyed up to the idea that this
is too uncertain; that each must watch his own job, that in so doing
he may keep his comrade out of the hole, that by conscientious
vigilance he becomes a better man and more of a credit to his calling.
No man wilfully courts danger to life and property. His failures are
an accompaniment, a concomitant they call it in logic, of officials
being better coroners than they are doctors.
Affectionately, your own
D. A. D.