thieves stole nine pianos and four phonographs from one railway company
in a large city, and to date six had been recovered. Claims arising
from damage, delay, theft, loss and wrecks are traffic men’s enemies
that play the mischief and filter through all departments to the chief
legal authorities. Of late years the railway companies have been
stimulated to eternal vigilance in order to combat daring robbers with
confederate organization quite far reaching and involving from twenty
to forty people within the ranks of employees and outside. Such a gang
is said to have stolen from one company in four months goods valued at
$35,000, comprising candy, cameras, sugar, liquors, musical instruments
and clothing. The investigation departments have recovered from beneath
hay stacks not far from Toronto, Canada, for instance, forty suits of
underwear and a dozen pairs of ladies high suede boots. Imagine the
temerity of the men making off with twenty head of sheep from under the
eyes of yardmen and special officers. The public press not long ago
chronicled details of the loss of fifteen sacks of flour from one car
en route Buffalo to Belleville. Whiskey is an outstanding temptation
and many a headache that starts rolling fails to join the soda waiting
at the other end. Out of a thirty case consignment from further west,
making the one night journey from St. Thomas to Black Rock, there
checked fifteen cases missing, lock, stock and barrel--the wood only of
four cases remained and eleven cases were intact. Unmerited onus for
losses is now and then thought to rest with the railroads which enquiry
does not substantiate. A well known firm in the congested wholesale
zone of a neighboring city engaged a detective who pussy-footed about
the premises for a year without locating a leak. This human bloodhound
may have had a cold in his head and was a poor scenter as it was
developed later that the shortages were manipulated as a side line by
a vinegar mill shipper who got away with also $6,000 of the hardened
cider--mostly recovered--and had been supplying a small pickle factory
through the medium of a carter who drove up daily for kegs.
Railway companies very seldom pilfer, but the action of more than one
railroad on this continent in appropriating urgently needed steam
coal billed to others during the winters of 1917–18, will prepare the
reader’s viewpoint for a claim for reimbursement placed in the hands of
the Silverplate Road, covering fifty cars of slack coal, lost and being
vigorously traced, which that line had seized and hastily dumped into a
big washout cavity.
Whitewashing coal would seem to be a labor as unheard of as washing
the spots off the leopard, yet, says the Saturday Evening Post, that
apparently crazy scheme is carried out by some western railroads. The
coal is whitewashed, not for aesthetic reasons, but simply to prevent
theft in transit. Before a car of coal starts on its journey the top
layers are sprayed with limewater, which leaves a white coating on each
lump of black coal after the water evaporates. The removal of even a
small quantity from that whitewashed layer is immediately detected, so
that the exact junction or station at which the theft occurred can be
noticed.
Once upon a time when many boys were investigating the fallacy of the
supposed transformation of a black horse hair into a snake after nine
days sojourn in the rain barrel, a loaded oil tank car was glued to
the rails in Detroit yards, but urgently needed on the other side of
the international boundary. Giving a clear receipt, a connecting line
hooked on to it, but almost immediately finding the tank in a leaking
condition because the discharge pipe had been snapped in a rough shunt,
they shot it back to the original carriers. The latter were on guard
and refused it, the tank in the meantime losing 200 gallons of oil.
To aggravate matters, a third railway whose office was to deliver the
shipment, looked askance at the “cripple” and thus both exits were
closed. Despite the pleadings of the consignees for the oil, the middle
line holding the “white elephant” turned to them a deaf ear until a
settlement would be made. After much fencing and correspondence an
adjustment on a mileage basis was arrived at. The road accepting the
“bad order” tank was held liable for a proportion gauged by a thirty
mile haul, and the comparatively innocent delivering company, being ten
miles longer, drew a debit of $4,000.
The interpretation of a maze of tariff rates and a thousand lights
and shadows affecting their application, as well as classification,
deadlocks regarding analogous goods perplex and keep bright the wits
of railway people, that the responsibility may be placed where it
should rest. To elucidate this remark let me refer in passing, to a
partly demented and very undependable dealer in a commodity that was
barrelled--long since gone to his reward--who requested and obtained
a quotation on a specific shipment of twenty cars, each to contain a
stated number of barrels, which were to be of agreed size and weight.
He then had made a larger barrel, forwarded the product in them and, of
course, when weighed a heavy undercharge claim developed, the carriers
holding the short end.
Different from this was the experience of a car of eastbound California
oranges traveling via the gorges and canyons of a Rocky Mountain
railway. A broken axle precipitated trouble in the middle of the train
which threw the “cripple” out of alignment and in shorter time than is
consumed in relating it, the down-grade impetus and pressure wrenched
it free throwing the disabled car clear. It fell to the bottom of the
gorge, the automatic couplers linked the drawheads of the separated
halves of the train and no one was wiser until the following springtime
freshets uncovered the debris at the base of a cliff, clearing up a
mystery for the checkers and claim department.
Sparks from passing locomotives do widespread damage to crops and
fencing and a battalion of agents are continually engrossed with
personal injury matters and destruction of stock. A car of expensive
western steers was recently heading eastward to the seaboard when early
in the morning prairie grass in the racks of troughs igniting from
sparks started a blaze. Being under way, the crew did not detect the
trouble at once but, on learning the danger, they raced to the water
tank at Ingersoll. Before the water was reached a draw bar pulled out
and broke setting the emergency brakes hard, jolting the train to a
sudden stop. Fifteen head of the cattle were found roasted to death and
three jumped from the car and ran amuck crazed with blisters and the
intense heat. Railroading is not all profit. Some days you cannot lay
up a cent. The following true story is apropos:--
“How many cows have you now?” inquired the visitor.
“Eight,” replied Farmer Corntossel, discontentedly; “all comin’ home
reg’lar every night to make work for somebody.”
“I understand two of your neighbor’s cows got hit by railway trains
last week.”
“Yep. An’ he got cash fur ’em, too. I don’t see how that feller trains
his cattle not to shy at a locomotive.”--_Washington Star._
When the public magnifies the cash returns from ticket sales and
freight traffic it has not an accurate conception of the immense sums
paid out annually by the railway companies for the adjustment of
even small claims. Traffic Manager Adam Scott of the F. W. Woolworth
Company, with eighty-five stores in Canada, was instrumental in having
authorized during the past fiscal year $16,000 in vouchers issued to
write off small claims on less than carload shipments of glassware and
crockery. This firm controls nine hundred and ninety-eight stores in
America and the sums involved in this phase of profit and loss must be
immense.
On one occasion the Great Northern Railway wrote the Heinz Pickle
Company, Leamington, Ont., regarding the collection of an undercharge
amounting to $40.09, which arose from an error in prepaying the freight
charges on a carload shipped to Vancouver, B.C. The Pickle Company’s
Traffic Manager, at Pittsburg, Pa., working in accordance with the
Inter-state Commerce Act Rules, promptly acknowledged the liability in
an elaborate statement, with cheque, assuring the railway company that
the correct amount of the discrepancy was, on further investigation,
found to be $80.45. In other days we all knew some people who would
have gasped at such an evidence of gratuitous fair dealing, but to
quote from William Shakespeare, the listener would be fit for “treason,
stratagem and spoils” whose risibilities are not tickled with a recital
of the claim of a cautious old sexton, made on the Canadian Northern
Railway at Winnipeg for two funeral tollings at $2 each which he would
have received had the railway delivered the expected church bell in
time. And so the old world and the amusing people on it, with their
pleasantries and foibles, roll across the stage of every-day existence.
[Illustration]
LINES ADDRESSED TO FREDERICK P. NELSON
Traveling Agent, Grand Trunk Railway, on the occasion of his marriage,
Hamilton, Canada, May 27th, 1912
“We must encourage the young,” said a former acquaintance of your
father--a benevolent old benedict--who cheerfully swung into line with
the friends wishing to mark your approaching marriage and who would
honor you with more than the sentiments expressed herein.
The matrimonial contract of that railroading knight is nearing
completion; yours is about to be undertaken with ideals, hope and
resolve. Undoubtedly the trail will develop many joys and some kinks
in the path, but we are convinced that you can measure up to the best
traditions of the lords of creation. Those who have basked in the rays
of your genial personality prophecy you will prove docile “In bond” and
all of us will “Watch your smoke.”
You spring from sturdy stock, long identified with railway construction
in Canada, and since those other days in the loft of Hamilton’s smoke
smeared freight shed, down the avenue of occupations in your native
city, abroad in Western Ontario and throughout the business zone of
Toronto, few dare question your reputation for urbanity, commercial
sense and thoroughness. Where master and man wrest for silver fortunes
in Cobalt Camp, they say your methods and diplomatic behavior were “as
smooth as a kitten’s wrist” and a decided asset to the Grand Trunk
Railway.
As a reminder of your bachelor days and associations: as a token of
regard when nearing the threshold of a momentous event in your life,
accept from subscribing friends whose names are attached hereto, the
accompanying gift of dining room furniture--a contribution towards your
household gods.
To the estimable lady who is to become Mrs. Nelson, please convey our
profound respect; we presume her journey from Brockville to Hamilton
will be a personally conducted tour. You both have our earnest and best
wishes for a happy future.
For the Committees--J. A. YORICK, C.B. & Q.R.
J. M. COPELAND, C.M. & St. P.R.
A. S. MUNRO, G.T.R.
LYNN C. DOYLE, The Irish
[Illustration]
HAMILTON, A HOTHOUSE FOR TRANSPORTATION MEN
Her numerous railway and navigation sons abroad
[Illustration: E. ALEXANDER
Secretary, Can. Pac. Railway Montreal, Que.]
L. J. BURNS, D.F.A., Canada Steamship Lines, Toronto, Ont.
1. J. J. BYRNE, Ass’t. Pass. Traffic Mgr., Santa Fe Lines, Los
Angeles.
2. G. J. CHARLTON, Pass. Traffic Mgr., Chicago & Alton Road,
Chicago.
3. H. W. COWAN, Operating Mgr., Canada Steamship Lines, Montreal.
4. K. J. FITZPATRICK, T.P.A., L.V.R., Toronto, Ont.
D. E. GALLOWAY, Ass’t. to President, G.T.R., Montreal.
5. J. GORMAN, Supt. Dining and Sleeping Cars, G.T.P.R., Winnipeg.
W. HERMAN, Ex-General Passenger Agent, “D. & C.” Line, Cleveland.
6. A. HILTON, Pass. Traffic Mgr., Frisco Lines, St. Louis.
J. HORSBURGH, Ex-Gen. Passenger Agent, Southern Pacific Railway.
J. T. LEWIS, Superintendent, Tenn. Central Railway, Nashville, Tenn.
7. T. MARSHALL, Traffic Manager, Board of Trade, Toronto, Canada.
8. C. R. MORGAN, Ex-C.P. & T.A., G.T.R.--Fighting for us in France.
9. A. S. MUNRO, Commercial Agent, G.T.R., London, Ont.
10. G. W. NORMAN, Traveling Passenger Agent, G.T.R., Chicago.
11. H. PARRY, General Passenger Agent, N.Y.C. & H.R.R., Buffalo.
12. N. J. POWER, Ex-General Passenger Agent, G.T.R., now in
California.
ROBERT SOMERVILLE, President, Judson F. F. Co., Chicago.
13. A. A. TISDALE, Assistant to Vice-President, G.T.P.R.,
Winnipeg.
H. E. WATKINS, General Eastern Canadian Agent, Great Northern
Railway.
14. R. J. S. WEATHERSTON, Division Freight Agent, G.T.R.,
Stratford, Ont.
N. VAN WYCK, Purchasing Agent, Canada Steamship Lines, Montreal.
15. J. A. YORICK, Canadian Agent, C.B. & Q.R., Toronto, Canada.
A PILFERED POT-POURRI
Timid Traveler vs. Tantalizing Ticket Clerk at the Bureau of Information
[Illustration: The Timid Traveler.]
Ticket Clerk--Where do you wish to go, Sir?
Timid Traveler--Well, what stations have you?
T.C.--We have Portland, Oregon and Portland, Maine.
T.T.--Which is the cheapest?
T.C.--To Maine for $15 and tax, if you sit up nights.
T.T.--It hadn’t orter come so high, I paid my taxes!
Can you carry me to New York State, please?
T.C.--Delighted, if I could, but you’re too heavy.
T.T.--(Puzzled). I mean could you sell me through to the Bronx?
T.C.--The strange animals are all there--you might be caged.
T.T.--Well then, Iona Station?
T.C.--What station do you own?
T.T.--You seem stupid, I mean I might go to Iona Station.
T.C.--You have my permission, Ruben.
T.T.--I do want to go there in the worst way.
T.C.--Then don’t use this line, we’re the best way--P.D.Q. way.
T.T.--Oh indeed, what does “P.D.Q.” mean?
T.C.--I hate to tell you.
T.T.--But listen, my dear young man:
T.C.--Nay, Cæsar, I’m not your dear young man!
T.T.--May I leave this basket of potatoes in the Office?
T.C.--Read that warning:
ALL PARCELS, PACKAGES AND GRIPS LEFT AND NOT CHECKED, MUST BE
CHECKED OR THEY CANNOT BE LEFT IN THE DEPOT.
T.C.--What kind of nuggets are the spuds?
T.T.--Early Rose, my fine fellow.
T.C.--Some mistake, never knew Rose to rise early since Daylight
Saving came.
T.T.--When will the 2.00 o’clock train come?
T.C.--One sixty.
T.T.--Will she be long?
T.C.--Oh, about seven cars.
T.T.--Does she arrive soon?
T.C.--She’s about due, there comes the conductor’s dog.
T.T.--Where will she come in, you Smart Aleck?
T.C.--Right behind the engine to-day, I think.
T.T.--How long will she wait here?
T.C.--From two to two, to two two!
T.T.--(Musingly), he thinks he’s the whistle on the locomotive.
What part of the train do you consider most dangerous?
T.C.--Dining car, answered the dyspeptic.
T.T.--What became of the other clerk who was here?
T.C.--In the asylum--one day a woman got a ticket without asking
questions.
T.T.--Mercy Mister, this is terryble, give me a ticket to
Moffat’s Corners.
T.C.--Can’t give you one, but I will sell it.
T.T.--Why is my train arriving so late?
T.C.--It’s just like this: the train ahead is behind, and this
train was behind before besides.
T.T.--Ma’ conscience!
When they found the old gentleman towards sundown, he had wandered to
the yard limits and was seated in a free reclining chair car waiting
for a hair cut. On hearing the doctor’s diagnosis: “Reason undermined,”
he was assisted to an ambulance, as a hoot owl settled on the bridge at
midnight, and a yellow fog enveloped the sleeping city.
❦ ❦ ❦
A DESERVED REBUKE
Speaking of “Back talk” at a railwaymen’s dinner, President Howard
Elliott of the New Haven Lines, expressed sympathy for an employee
temporarily under unbearable conditions and explained that when
the conductor was punching tickets a man said to him, with a nasty
sneer--“You have a lot of wrecks on this road, don’t you?” “Oh no,”
said the conductor, “You’re the first I’ve seen for some time”.
PHILADELPHIA BULLETIN
❦ ❦ ❦
ONCE WAS ENOUGH
A sweet young thing who had not traveled much, was riding on a high
speed interurban trolley noted for its accidents.
“How deliciously dangerous”, she was thinking as the conductor
approached. “How often do you kill a person on this road?” she
enquired. The ticket collector smiled and as he pocketed her coupon he
said, “Just once, Miss”.
ELECTRIC SERVICE MAGAZINE
THE TRANSPORTATION CLUB OF TORONTO
Although the members of this Club carefully safeguard their Death
Benefit Fund and derive profit from periodical addresses delivered to
them by qualified speakers on topics of specific or general interest,
they have realized that all work with trains or traffic affairs and
no play, is an unwise plan of campaign. Until war time exigencies
discouraged the practice, the Transportation Club indulged in an Annual
June outing.
[Illustration: Some incidents--not posed for--photographed at Jackson’s
Point Picnic.]
THE TRAIL OF THE SERPENT
“Let go the balloon and come to earth you crimson-thatched,
wind-jamming bush ranger,” called Tommy Nelson, president of the
Brantford Green Socks, from the convention hall vestibule to discursive
Claudius O’Toole, manager of the Ottawas, and the centre of a group
following on the flight of steps above.
“Heraus mit him!” vamoose with that lingo you ivory-crested Fenian,
we’ll shoot your team in the air like puffed rice from a Quaker Oats
gun,” was the manager’s quick rejoinder, as he lighted a fragrant
panatela.
“You’ll think you are playing in a vat of molasses when our merry men
begin to stampede your bronchos,” continued Mr. Nelson, winking at Duff
Adams and Will Lahey to the accompaniment of covert snickers from the
near by delegates dispersing after the session.
AT THE BALL GAME
The members and guests in the circular group ardently participated.
They are:--E. CALLAGHAN, General Agent, B. & L.E.R., Toronto; W.
J. CONNELL, Traffic Manager, Linington, Connell Co., Toronto;
L. L. GRABILL, General Baggage Agent, G.T.R., Toronto; Late
JOHN GRAY, Agent, G.T.R., Toronto; F. G. GOULD, Traveling
Freight Agent, G.T.R., Toronto; W. J. HAMILTON, Canadian
Passenger Agent, L.V.R., Toronto; T. JACKSON, Traffic
Manager, Jackson Manufacturing Co., Clinton; F. JACKSON,
Merchant, Clinton; JOHN JOLLY, Contracting Freight Agent,
C.P.R., Toronto; R. MCRAE, Accountant, G.T.R., Toronto; P. G.
MOONEY, Assistant General Freight Agent, C.N.R., Toronto; T.
MULLINS, City Passenger Agent, C.P.R., Toronto; F. P. NELSON,
C.C., D.F.A., G.T.R., Hamilton, and JOHN RANSFORD, Passenger
Agent, G.T.R., Clinton.
SOME OF THE PLAYERS WERE:--H. C. BOURLIER, G.A.P.D., C.N.R.,
Toronto; H. A. CARSON, C.F.A., G.T.R., Montreal; A. CRAIG,
C.P.A., C.P.R., Hamilton; GEO. DONALDSON, C.F.A., G.T.R.,
Toronto (Overseas); T. HAGARTY, L.F.O., G.T.R., Toronto; R.
M. HAMILTON, Superintendent, Hendrie Co., Hamilton; W. M.
HOOD, D.F. & P.A., C.N.R., Sudbury; W. J. HOTRUM, C.C.L.A.,
G.T.R., Toronto; H. J. LECLAIR, T.P.A., C.N.R., Quebec; TOM
LOCKWOOD, T.A., Allan Line; C. MCHARG, M.C.P.A., T.H. &
B.R., Hamilton; A. J. MITCHELL, L.O., G.T.R., Toronto; J. A.
MORICE, Import Department, C.P.R., Toronto; H. PETERS, Fruit
Merchant, Toronto; I. G. REECE, C.P.A., C.N.R., Ottawa; H.
J. ROBERTS, C.C., D.T.A., C.P.R., Toronto; R. M. SEDGEWICK,
Traffic Manager, Standard Chemical Co.; S. S. STACKPOLE,
G.C.F.A., P.R.R.; J. THOMSON, Superintendent, Canadian
Transfer Co., Toronto; E. R. THORPE, City Freight Agent,
G.T.R., Toronto; C.L. WORTH, C.C., M. D., G.T.R., Toronto.
“Ho! Ho! merry men and molasses is it? We’ll feed them the syrup to
sweeten their tempers after the Redskins scalp their cow-licks and
curly-me-Q’s,” the Ottawas’ chief exclaimed.
“Your bunch of pretenders would grade about Tenth in the Western
Classification and that’s the tariff rating the railways give sand,
bricks and other heavy, commodities” answered the director of the Green
Sox.
“Believe me, President you have a raft of flotsom and jetsom as
variegated as a hedge of Sweet William; a flock of tortoises I call
them,” responded the ladylike O’Toole, appropriating the last word.
However, “Opinion is private property which the law cannot seize,” the
old saw says.
As with all other mortals of divers pursuits, these ball tossers can
stand just so much baiting and then they bristle like an old cock when
young chantecler invades his yard reaching for high C. With plenty
of such good natured badinage and the dissemination of unlimited
sunshine, the owners and managers of the clubs composing the Inter-lake
League finished the early spring meeting convened to arrange the games
schedule for the current season, making due allowance for national
holidays and discussing railway fares with ticket agents Jack Campbell,
Albert Craig and J. B. Doran. This league comprised the Brantford Green
Socks, Knotty Lee’s Hamilton Bengal Tigers, Saints of St. Thomas, home
town of Bob. Emslie, National League umpire, and Gladstone Graney with
Lajoie’s Cleveland “Naps”; also the Cockneys of London, where Pittsburg
Pirate George Gibson dwells neighborly beside the railway triumvirate
Messrs. Ernie Ruse, Harry MacCallum and Hubert Hays, with Ottawas of
Ottawa and Peterborough Blue Jays completing the roster. The rivalry
and fortunes of the bustling sextette, as will later be seen, ebbed
and flowed between Brantford, the hub of two thirds of the circuit,
presided over by president Silent Thomas Nelson, C.P.A., G.T.R.,
nick-named the “Sphinx” for his wisdom and ability to guard a secret
deal, as far east as Ottawa on the big river where Claudius O’Toole had
cajoled and berated his henchmen into winning the bunting the season
before.
When the present Mr. O’Toole was yet a squalling infant the suffering,
patient sponsors saw to it that his name was set down in the vestry
register as “Claudius” with the saint’s name Dominick added, but the
creepy nickname “Spider” automatically clung to “Claude” like the
monkey man to the neck of the famous Sinbad the sailor who figured in
Arabian Nights. The youth grew rangy, with long shifty legs, and his
arms, ornamented with grapplers, seemingly as numerous and resourceful
as the tentacles of a cuttle fish, were the wonder and pride of the
freshmen at St. Augustine’s Seminary who doted on his prowess and
perennial good nature.
At all times an awed respecter of Irish tradition, Spider O’Toole
reverenced St. Patrick’s memory in full measure, and like that
venerable sainted man, could not tolerate anything that wriggled: and
who could blame him. The word “cringe” was not in his encyclopaedia
and as he never “crawled” himself, he abhorred spiders and snakes as
the devil scowls on piety. With him they were as popular as a horse
thief in Utah. His dislike for cobras, constrictors, rattlers and all
that ilk that do the hesitation glide without legs, was no spasmodic,
abnormal antipathy, mark you, born of flirtations with the grape
when purple, for he had never been known to arrive at a condition
superinduced by an over-indulgence in the bottled and popular elements
of conviviality. Always a man of nerve and aggressiveness, he shunned
those toy cameras and fake electric pocket flashes, concealing jumping
adders as he would the wails of the family Banshee, while buggy whips
and garden hose lying about in the gloaming were sure to send shivers
gamboling up and down his spinal network. Naturalists tell us the
sagacious elephant, big as he is, will promptly side-step a lizard--and
why not?
One rainy evening after the teams of the Inter-lake League had rid
themselves of Charley-horse, glass arms and proud flesh, and were
schooled and whipped into tolerable fettle for the ordeal of endurance
and dexterity, with the opening day a short week off, Thomas Nelson,
President of the Green Sox, met Spider O’Toole with others of the clan
in the Algonquin Hotel rotunda. With them were Francis Nelson, Sporting
Editor of the Globe, Dick Kearns, Fitzgerald and Charlie Good, and near
by in the billiard room Harry Thorley and Billy Hamilton were making
some fancy shots with a party they were booking to Europe, via the
L.V.R. and White Star Line. Said Thomas quite carelessly, to Claudius,
as he shifted the position of an undiscernable portion of Piper
Heidseick from one cheek to the other, “We think we have better than
an even break with the Ottawas on dates for the season’s schedule Mr.
O’Toole: in other words, my Christian friend, I have the edge on you.”
Oh, have you Mr. Sphinx--well don’t strain your diaphragm gloating over
that paper advantage: I’ll dull your edge so badly that you will have
your spavined free lances at the horse shoers in a month, I will, so I
will and I’ll leave it to your friend Ira Thomas, Mitch. Thomas or St.
Thomas.
“I trow not, Spider. We have gathered in the net as fine a cluster of
brilliants as ever crossed the Giant’s Causeway since the days the
Gauls hung to the branches with their tails. I hope Connie Mack is
unaware of their speed.”
“Mr. McGillicudy is still a young man: too bad to have him choke to
death with laughter and he in his prime,” commented Claudius O’Toole.
“The Green Stockings are a lot of limber base ball professors, bright
as patent stove polish, and when your kindergarten is introduced to
their science.”
At this juncture, Will. Connell and Harry Watkins with the “Great
Northern”, who had just come in from the theatre after enjoying Dick
Sheridan’s “School for Scandal”, naively enquired if Mr. O’Toole’s
redskins would win their opening game with the Peterborough Bluejays a
week hence, adding “The birds are touted tough as hickory and hard nuts
to crack”.
“We’ll crack their kernels as sure as Hades is a man trap,” said the
Spider, “or make them work so hard they’ll ferment and blow their heads
off.”