The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, July 31, 1904, Page 8

HEN the big strike caught en on the payr One hundred and d with the now t mind Through ton, whenever we With an engineer, No other man could supply him fired religious! in the service could Bave done it without getting killed, but Da” was old enough to father any men among the strikers. Moreover, be was a glant physicaliy, and eccen- tric enough to move along through the heat of the crisis indifferent enough to the abuse of the other men. His grey hairs and his tremendous physi- cal strength saved him from personal violence. Our master mechanic, Neighbor, was another big man—six feet and an inch in his stockings—and strong as a draw bar. Between Neighbor and the old fireman there existed some sort of a bond—a liking, an affinity. Ded Ham- fiton had fired on our division ten years. There was no promotion for Dad; he could never be an engineer, though only Neighbor knew wh; But his job of firing on the river division was sure as long as Neighbor signed the payrolls at the roundhouse. Hence there was no surptise when the superintendent offered n an en- gine just after the xtrike that Dad re- fused to take it. “I'm a fireman, and Neighb® knows it. I ain’t no enginecer. I make steam for any man you put in the cab with me, but I wen't touch a throttle for any man. I laid it down, an’ I'll never pinch it again—an’ no offense t’ you, Neighbor, neither.” Thus ended negotiations with Dad on that subject; threats, entreaties were usele: Then, too, in spite of his pro- fessed willingress to throw coal for eny man we put on his engine, he was continually rowing about the green runners we gave him. From the stand- point of a railroad man they were a tough assortment, for a fellow may be a good painter, or a handy man with a jackplane, or an expert machinist even, and yet a failure as an engine- runner. After we got hold of Foley, Neighbor put him on a while with Dad, and the grizzled fireman quickly declared that Foley was the only man on the pay- roll who knew how to move & train. The lttle chap proved such a re- markable find that I tried hard to get some of his Eastern chums to come out and join him. After a good bit of hustling we did get half a dozen more Read®ig boys for our new corps of engine men, but the East End officials kept all but one of them on their own divisions.: That one we got because no- body on the East End wanted him. “They've crimped the whole bunch, Foley,” said I, answering his inquiries. “There's just one fellow reported her: he came in on 5 this morning. Neigh- bor’s had a little talk .with him; but he doesn’t think much of him, I guess we're out the transportation on that fellow.” “What’s his name?” asked Foley. “Is he off the Reading?” “Claims he fs; his name is McNeal—" “McNeal?” echoed Foley, surprised. “Not Georgle McNeal?” “I don’t know what hi: he’s nothing but a boy. d “Dark complexioned fellow?” \ “Perhaps you'd call him that; sort of soft-spoken.” “Georgie McNeal, sure’s you're born. If you've got him you've got a bird. He ran opposite me between New York and Philadelphia on the limited, I first name 1s; T want to see him, right off, Georgie, you're all right.” Foley's talk went a good ways with me at any time. When I told Neighbor about it he pricked up his ears. While we were debating, in rushed Foley with the young fellow—the kid—as he called him. Neighbor made another survey of the ground in short order— run a new line, as Foley would have It it's said. The upshot of it was that Me- Neal was assigned to an engine straightway. As luck would have it, Neighbor put the boy on the 244 with Dad Hamilton, and Dad proceeded at once to make what Foley termed “a great roar.” “What's the matter?” demanded Neighbor, roughly, when the old fire- man complained. “If you're goin’ to pull these trains with boys I guess it's time for me to quit; I'm gettin’ pretty old, anyhow.” “What's the matter?” growled Neighbor, still surlier, knowing full well that if the old fellow had a good reason he would have blurted it out at the start. “Nothin's the matter: only I'd like my time.”. 2 “You won’t get it,” said Neighbor, roughly. ““Go back on your run. It McNeal don't behave, report him to me and he'll get his time.” It was a favorite trick of Nelghbor's. ‘Whenever the old fireman got to “bucking’” about his engineer the mas- ter mechanic threatened to-discharge the engineer. That settled it; Dad Hamilton wouldn’t for the world be the cause of throwing another man out of a job, no matter how little he liked him, 3 ‘e 'HE SAN FRA! Gk CISCO SUNDAY P SLIPEIG AND EENG CARITULLY o e b, STEAINING ANC TLISTING ANC DOGGING HE CADGHT 17 AND FUSITED /76/;;72}’ HorE st The old fellow went back to work mollified, but it was evident that he and McNeal didn’'t half “get on to- gether. The boy was not much of a talker, yet he did his work well and Neighihor said, next to Foley, he was the best man he had. “What's the reason Hamilton and McNeal can’t hit it off, Foley?” I ask- ed one night, “They'll get along all right after a while,” predicted Foley. “You know the old man’s stubborn as a dun mule; ain’t he? The ~ injectors bother Georgie some; they did me. He'll get used to things, But Dad thinks he’s green—that's what's the matter. The kid is high spirited and seeing the old man’s kind of got it in for him he won't ask him anything. Dad’s sore about that, too. Georgie won't knuckle to anybody that don't treat him right.” “You'd better tell McNeal to humor the old crank,” I suggested, and I be- lieve Foley did so, but it didn’t do any good. Sometimes those things have to work thenmiselves out without out- side help. 1In the end this thing did, but in a way none of us looked for. About a week later Foley came into the office one morning very much ex- cited. e “Did you hear about the boy's get- ting pounded last night—Georgle Mc- Neal? It's a shame the way these fel- lows act. Three of the strikers piled on him while ‘he was going into the postoffice and thumped the life out of him. The cowardly hounds, to jump on a man’s back that way!” “Foley,” said I, “that’s the first time they've tackled one of Dad Hamilton's engineers.’ CALD. ~ Y “J'hey'd never have done it if they thought ‘there was any danger of Dad’s getting after them. They know he doesn’t like the boy. “It's an outrage, but we can't do anything. You kiuow that. - Tell Mc- Neal to keep away from the postof- fice. 'We'll get his maii for him.” “I told him that this morning. He's ir bed, and looks pretty hard. But he won't dodge those fellows.. He claims it's a free country,” grinned - Foley. “But I told him he'd get over that idea if he stuck out this trouble.” It was three days before McNeal was able to report to work, though he re- ceived full time just the same. Even then he wasn’t fit for duty, but he begged Neighbor for his run until he got it. The strikers were jubilant while the boy was laid up, but just wifat Dad thought no one could find out. I wanted to tell the old growler what I thought of him, but Foley said it wouldn’t do any good, and might do harm, so I held my peace. ® One might have thought that the in- justice and brutality of the ‘thing would have roused him, but men’who have repressed themselves till they are gray-headed don’t rise in a hurry to resent a wrong. Dad kept as mute as the Sphinx. When McNeal was ready to go out the old fireman had the 244 shining, but if the pale face of his en- gineer had any effect on him he kept It to himself. As they rattled down the line with a long stock train that night neither of them. referred to the break In their run. Coming back next night the same silence hung over the cab. The only word that passed over the bollerhead was “strictly business,” as Dad would say. A At Oxford they were lald out by a Pullman special. It was*3 o’clock in the morning and raining hard. Under such circumstances an hour seems all night. At last Dad himself broke. the unsupportable silence. “He'd have waited a good bit longer if he had waited for me to talk,” sald the boy, telling Foley afterward. “Heard you got licked,” growled Dad, after tinkering with the fire for the twentieth time, “I didn’t get-licked,” retorted Geor- gic; “I got clubbed. I never had & chance to fight.” “These fellows hate to see a boy come out and take a man’s job. Can't blame much, neithe “Whose job did I'tal Georgie, angr “Was any these cowards' that jumped on me in the dark looking for work on this en- gine?” em demanded one of There was nothing to say to that. Dad kept still. “You talk about men,” continued the young fellow. “If I am not more of a man than to slug a fellow from behind, the way they slugged me, I'll get oft this engine and stay off. If that's what you call men out here I don’t want to be a man. I'll go back to Pennsylvania.” “Why didn’t growled Da “Why didn’t you?"” Without attempting to return the shot Dad pulled nervously at the chain. “If I hadn’t been fool enough to go out on strike I might have been run- ning there yet,” continued Georgie. “Qught to have kept away from the postoffice,” grumbled Dad, after a pause. “I get a letter twice a week that I think more of than I do for this whole road, and I propose to go to the post- office’ and get it without asking any- body’s permission.” “They’ll pound you again.” Georgie looked out into the storm. “Well, why shouldn’t they? I've got no friends.” “Got a girl back in Pennsylvania?” “Yes, I 've got a girl there,” replied the boy, as the rain tore at the cab window. “I've had a girl there a good while. She’s grayheaded and 60 years old—that’s my girl—and if she can write letters to me I can get them out of the postoffice without a guardian.” “There she comes,” said Dad, as the headlight of the Pullman special shone faint ahead through the mist. “I'm mighty glad of it,” said Georgie, looking at his watch. “Give me steam now, Dad, and I'll get you home in time for a nap before breakfast.” you stay there?” A minut: the swit the 8 -3 - B Georgle and th 2 headway on t As the man and to square the hey ‘were poun e Narr gh bench s. The heer up able ends of the It ork was a sl d t of to unable t rod-sr ng we the West End pretty tough o stopped train and on the loun waiting for the I And old Dad Hamilt worth a small The one swoop o > " caught Georgie's 1ces, months. elty to see that K . . the postoffice 1 Kers step up and ask hin e i to see old Dad ton tag around Zanesvill im was T freshing. The kid engineer had woa his spurs.