AN OLD DESPATCHER'S MISTAKE--MY FIRST TRICK
I had become thoroughly proficient and more frequently than ever
Borroughs would let me "spell" for him for a while each day. Be it said
to his credit, however, he was always within hearing, when I was doing
any of his work. He was carefulness personified, and the following
incident only serves to show what unaccountable errors will be made by
even the best of men.
One cold morning in January, I started to the office as usual. The air
was so still, crisp and biting that the air-pumps of the engines had
that peculiar sharp, snappy sound heard only in a panting engine in cold
weather. They seemed almost imbued with life. As I went into the office
at eight o'clock to go to work, the night man remarked that I must be
feeling pretty brash; my spirits seemed so high. And in fact, that was
no joke; I was feeling fine as silk and showed it all over. But as I
said good morning to Borroughs, I noticed that he seemed rather glum,
and I asked: "What's the matter, Dad? Feeling bad this morning?"
He snapped back in a manner entirely foreign to him, "No, but I don't
feel much like chaffing this day. I feel as if something was going to
happen, and I don't like the feeling."
I answered, "Oh! bosh, Dad. You'll feel all right in a few minutes; I
reckon you've got a good old attack of dyspepsia; brace up."
Just then the wires started up, and he gruffly told me to sit down and
go to work and our conversation ceased. That was the first time he had
ever used anything but a gentle tone to me, and I felt hurt. The first
trick is always the busiest, and under the stress of work the incident
soon passed from my mind. Pat remarked once, that the general
superintendent was going to leave Chaminade in a special at 10:30 A. M.,
on a tour of inspection over the road. That was about all the talking he
did that morning. His work was as good as ever, and in fact, he made
some of the prettiest meets that morning I had ever seen.
[Illustration: "... Half lying on the table, face downward, dead by
his own hand"]
About 10:35, I asked Borroughs to allow me to go over to the hotel to
get a cigar. I would be gone only a few minutes. He assented, and I
slipped on my overcoat and went out. I wasn't gone over ten minutes, and
as I stepped into the doorway to come upstairs on my return, I heard
what sounded like a shot in the office. I flew upstairs two steps at a
time, and never to my dying day will I forget the sight that met my
gaze. Borroughs, whom I had left but a few moments before full of life
and energy, was half lying on the table, face downwards, dead by his own
hand. The blood was oozing from a jagged wound in his temple, and on the
floor was the smoking pistol he had used. Fred Bennett, the chief
despatcher, as pale as a ghost, was bending over him, while the two call
boys were standing near paralyzed with fright. It was an intensely
dramatic setting for a powerful stage picture, and my heart stood still
for a minute as I contemplated the awful scene. Mr. Hebron, the division
superintendent, came in from the outer office, and was transfixed with
horror and amazement when he saw the terrible picture.
Bennett turned to me and said, "Bates, come here and help me lift poor
Borroughs out of this chair."
Gently and carefully we laid him down on the floor and sent one of the
badly frightened boys for a surgeon. Medical skill was powerless,
however, and the spirit of honest Pat Borroughs had crossed the dark
river to its final reckoning.
Work in the office was at a standstill on account of the tragic
occurrence, but all of a sudden I heard Monte Carlo calling "DS" and
using the signal "WK," which means "wreck." Bennett told me to sit down
and take the trick until the second trick man could be called. I went
over and sat down in the chair, still warm from the body of my late
friend, and wiping his blood off the train sheet with my handkerchief, I
answered.
It would be impossible to describe the state of my feelings as I first
touched the key; I had completely lost track of trains, orders and
everything else. However, I gradually pulled myself together, and got
the hang of the road again, and then I learned how the wreck had
occurred. About a minute after I went out, Borroughs had given a
right-of-track order to an express freight from Monte Carlo to
Johnsonville, and had told them to hurry up. Johnsonville is on the
outskirts of Chaminade, and Borroughs had completely forgotten that the
general superintendent's special had left there just five minutes before
with a clean sweep order. That he had known of it was evident from the
fact that it was recorded on the train sheet. Two minutes after the
freight had left Monte Carlo, poor Pat realized he had at last made his
mistake. He said not a word to any person, but quietly ordered out the
wrecking outfit, and then reaching in the drawer he took out a revolver
and--snuffed out his candle. He fell forward on the train sheet, as if
to cover up with his lifeless body, the terrible blunder he had just
made. Many other despatchers had made serious errors, and in a measure
outlived them; but here was a man who had grown gray in the service of
railroads, with never a bad mark against him. Day and night, in season
and out, he had given the best of his brain and life to the service, and
finally by one slip of the memory he had, as he thought, ruined himself;
and, too proud to bear the disgrace, he killed himself. He was
absolutely alone in the world and left none to mourn his loss save a
large number of operators he had helped over the rough places of the
profession.
The wreck was an awful one. The superintendent's son was riding on the
engine, and he and the engineer and the fireman were mashed and crushed
almost beyond recognition. The superintendent, his wife and daughter,
and a friend, were badly bruised, but none of them seriously injured.
The second trick man was not to be found immediately, so I worked until
four o'clock, and the impression of that awful day will never leave me.
Pat's personality was constantly before me in the shape of the blood
stain on the train sheet. It was a long time before I recovered my
equanimity.
The next afternoon we buried poor Pat under the snow, and the earth
closed over him forever; and thus passed from life a man whose character
was the purest, whose nature was the gentlest: honest and upright, I
have never seen his equal in the profession or out. I often think if I
had not gone over to the hotel that morning, the accident might have
been averted, because, perhaps, I would have noticed the mistake in time
to have prevented the collision. But, on the other hand, it is probable
I would not have noticed it, because operators, not having the
responsibility of the despatchers, rarely concentrate their minds
intensely on what they are taking. A man will sit and copy by the hour
with the greatest accuracy, and at the same time be utterly oblivious of
the purport of what he has been taking. There can be no explanation as
to why Pat forgot the special. It is one of those things that happen;
that's all.
The rule of seniority was followed in the office, and in the natural
sequence of events the night man got my job, I was promoted to the third
trick--from twelve midnight until eight A. M.--and a new copy operator
was brought in from Vining.
If any trick is easier than another it is the third, but none of them
are by any means sinecures. When I was a copy operator I used to imagine
it was an easy thing to sit over on the other side of the table and give
orders, "jack up" operators, conductors and engineers, and incidentally
haul some men over the coals every time I had to call them a few
minutes; but when I reached the summit of an operator's ambition, and
was assigned to a trick I found things very different. Copying with no
responsibility was dead easy; but despatching trains I found about the
stiffest job I had ever undertaken. I had to be on the alert with every
faculty and every minute during the eight hours I was on duty. While the
first and second trick men, have perhaps more train order work attached
to them, the third is about on a par with them as far as actual labor is
concerned, because, in addition to the regular train order work, a new
train sheet has to be opened every night at twelve o'clock, which
necessitates keeping two sheets until all the trains on the old one have
completed their runs. There is also a consolidated train report to be
made at this time, which is a re-capitulation of the movements of all
trains for the preceding twenty-four hours, giving delays, causes
thereof, accidents, cars hauled, etc. This is submitted to the division
superintendent in the morning, and after he has perused and digested its
contents he sends a condensed copy to the general superintendent. Many a
man loses his job by a report against him on that train sheet.
To show the strain on a man's mind when he is despatching trains, let me
tell a little incident that happened to me just in the beginning of my
career as a despatcher. Every morning about five o'clock, the third
trick man begins to figure on his work train orders for the day and when
he has completed them he sends them out to the different crews. Work
train orders, it may not be amiss to explain, are orders given to the
different construction crews, such as the bridge gang, the grading gang,
the track gang, etc., to work between certain points at certain times.
They must be very full and explicit in detail as to all trains that are
to run during the continuance of the order. For regular trains running
on time, no notification need be given, because the time card rules
would apply; but for all extras, specials, and delayed trains, warnings
must be given, so that the work trains can get out of the way for them,
otherwise the results might be very serious, and business be greatly
delayed. Work orders are the bane of a new despatcher's existence, and
the manner in which he handles them is a sure indication as to whether
he will be successful or not. Many a man gets to a trick only to fall
down on these work orders.
I stumbled along fairly well the first night as a despatcher, and had no
mishaps to speak of, although I delayed a through passenger some ten
minutes, by hanging it up on a siding for a fast freight train, and I
put a through freight on a siding for a train of an inferior class. For
these little errors of judgment I was "cussed out" by all the conductors
and engineers on the division when they came in; and the division
superintendent, on looking over the train sheet the next morning,
remarked, that delaying a passenger train would never do--in such a tone
of voice that I could plainly see my finish should I ever so offend
again.
The second night passed all right enough, and by 5:30 A. M., I had
completed my work orders and sent them out. From that time on until
eight o'clock when the first trick man relieved me I was kept busy. He
read over my outstanding orders, verified the sheet, and signed the
transfer on the order book, and after a few moments' chat I went home.
I went to bed about nine o'clock, and was on the point of dropping off
to sleep, when all at once I remembered that an extra fast freight was
due to leave at 9:45 A. M., and that there was a train working in a cut
four miles out. I wondered if I had notified her to get out of the way
of the extra. That extra would go down through that cut like a streak of
greased lightning, because Horace Daniels, on engine 341, was going to
pull her, and Horace was known as a runner from away back. I reviewed in
my mind, as carefully as I could all the orders I had given to the work
train, and was rather sure I had notified them, but still I was not
absolutely certain, and began to feel very uncomfortable. Poor Borroughs
had just had his smash up, and I didn't want "poor Bates," to have his
right away. Maybe it was the spirit of this same old man Borroughs, who
was sleeping so peacefully under the ground that made me feel and act
carefully. I looked at my watch and found it was 9:20. The extra would
leave in twenty-five minutes and I lived nearly a mile from the office.
The strain was beginning to be too much, so I slipped on my clothes and
without putting on a collar or a cravat, I caught up my hat and ran with
all my might for the depot. As I approached I saw Daniels giving 341
the last touch of oil before he pulled out. Thank God, they hadn't gone.
I shouted to him, "Don't pull out for a minute, Daniels; I think there
is a mistake in your orders."
Daniels was a gruff sort of a fellow, and he snapped back at me, "What's
the matter with you? I hain't got no orders yet. Come here until I oil
those wheels in your head."
I went up in the office and Daniels followed me. Bennett, the chief, was
standing by the counter as I went in, and after a glance at me he said,
"What's up, kid? Seen a ghost? You look almost pale enough to be one
yourself."
I said, "No, I haven't seen any ghosts, but I am afraid I forgot to
notify that gang working just east of here about this extra."
The conductor and engineer were both there and they smiled very audibly
at my discomfiture; in fact, it was so audible you could hear it for a
block. Bennett went over to the table, glanced at the order book and
train sheet for a minute and then said, "Oh, bosh! of course you
notified them. Here it is as big as life, 'Look out for extra east,
engine 341, leaving El Monte at 9:45 A. M.' What do you want to get such
a case of the rattles and scare us all that way for?"
I was about to depart for home to resume my sleep, and was
congratulating myself on my escape, when Bennett called me over to one
side of the room, and in a low, but very firm voice, metaphorically ran
up and down my spinal column with a rake. He asked me if I didn't know
there were other despatchers in that office besides myself; men who knew
more in a minute about the business than I did in a month; and didn't I
suppose that the order book would be verified, and the train sheet
consulted before sending out the extra? He hoped I would never show such
a case of the rattles again. That was all. Good morning. All the same I
was glad I went back to the office that morning, because I had satisfied
myself that I had not committed an unpardonable error at the outset of
my career.
_In case of doubt always take the safe side._