The morning Astorian. [volume] (Astoria, Oregon) 1899-1930, 1906-07-01
EXPERIENCES OF THE SUBSTITUTE AGENT

Excuse me, no more railroading In
mine,' said the hungry reporter, as he
tilted bis chair back and elevated biz
heels on the desk that the city editor
called his when be was there. "Therc
are some tings In this world Pm not
adapted for. Tbats one"
| The rest Of the boys gathered around
with exclamations Of amazement and
surprise, and he continued:
"You SEE. once applied TO a division
superintendent for Job and was assured
my application would be considered the
very first vacancy that occurred. Then
I waited. The suspense was not espe.
ciaIly trying 10 me, but 1 could see ] was
wearing on the friends with whom ! was
boarding considerably.
Zone day, however he'caller,' the man
that rounds mp the trainmen when they
are wanted 10 20 out on special came
around with a note requesting me TO call
at the superintendent's office. OF course
II complied with the request, and wac
told they wanted me TO act a. assistant
agent for day or two at place called
Beaufort or something like that.
II wanted 10 kDosy II would have time
to 90 and pack my grip, but they seemed
to think such delay would materially
| prejudice the prospects Of the road, 50 ]
grabbed the pass and made for the train,
which | managed 10 catch after brief
but exciting chase. Then my grief as
the railroad men call II, began.
"This train don't stop at Beaufort
young feller,' said the conductor, as he
pocketed my pass and proceeded calmly
on his rounds. would have liked TO
have asked him what was expected TO
do about IL. but his eountenance was so
stern and forbidding | did not dare.
We were rapidly nearing my destina.
tion, and somethig had to be done, SO ]
/ informed brakeman Of my predicament,
and he very kindly ventured to ask
"Fatty Duff" to slow down a little at
Beaufort and let me of. presume he
did so, yet II there was any reduction in
the speed Of the train il was too slight
for my unpracticed eye to detect. The
brakeman encouraged me, however, and
as there appeared to be no other alterna.
tive, when We were nearly abreast Of the
platform. / let go and dropped.
/ did not light right away, but when !
did land the conclusion was something
awful. and as | rolled over and over 1t
seemed to me / must have gathered up
about all the splinters there were in that
platform in different portions of my
anatomy. l was still grating when the
last car whizzed by, but / heard the
"hind man's' timely warning;
look out, young man; you'll tear
your elothes!"
1t was a rickety station, the walls
frescocd with mashed tomatoes. Empty
chicken coops, fruit boxes, berry chests
and watermelon rinds scattered about
the platform exhaled faded and de-
pressing odor, and the only visible indi-
cation Of life or death were the swarms
of flies buzzing drowisly in the hot sun
shine. / picked my way to the office and
presented my credentials to the agent,
tall, lank man with long neck, care
worn features, and stiff hat that looked
out of place in the midst of such rural
surroundings. He was absorbed in a
newspaper, and 1t was some time before
he noticed me. At length, however, he
threw down the paper read my letter,
and invited me to make myself at home.
Then he unbosomed himself.
I'm sick and tired of this business,
he said, "The works enough to kill a
mule, but it's the injustice and lack of
appreciation that makes me hot. You
can't pick up paper without seeing a
lot of rot about the heroism of loco
motive engineers and the terrible re-
sponsibility that makes train dispatchers
hump-shouldered before their time, but
never a single, solitary word about sta
ton agents, Why, to read the papers
person would think an engineer went
through life with his eye glued to the
rail and death grip on the reversing
lever, and that the train dispatcher had
to put in all his spare time sopping his
head with hair vigor to keep from turn
ing gray in a single night. But look
at the facts.
"Any track walker can tell you that
an engineer is asleep more than half the
time when out on the line, and that the
only way to call his attention to slow
flag or a stop signal is to heave rock
through the cab window, while as for
the train dispatcher. we all know what
he is--a petty tyrant with an eight-hour
trick whose most arduous duties consist
in rawhiding us poor wretches out on
the line, bulldozing us into sending him a
regular tribute of fruit, fresh eggs and
butter. Heroism! Responsibility! Well,