The Salt Lake tribune. [volume] (Salt Lake City, Utah) 1890-current, 1909-05-23
STUDIES III THRILLING LIVES
BY WILLIAM ALLEN JOHNSTON.

his brOWS over 2 plue print one DuSy
Monday morning when the door of his
shack Office burst open and boy with
a white, scared face came pitching 'in.
a man ;s-gone down. he painted
"What?f snapped the foreman.
"Fallen,' said the boy. He point ed
at the bridge overhead. The foreman
iammed on his hat, rushed out, looked
steel structure where n knot of mon
stood and then ran over to the masonry
yard directly underneath.
He saw the splntcred ends Of a plank
broken clean in two, and two workmen
bending over body which now stiff
fened and heightened and then relaxed
in death
Jack McSbane," said a workman
Poor Jackl'' echoed the other
softly. land him good boy-the best
ever
"Pick him up" ordered the fore
man. "Easy. boys He indicated a
pile Of gunnysacks and hurried back
to his telephone.
In a moment the bell was tinkling
en- the New York side. bat the news
had already reached there, carried on
swiftest wings from section 10 section.
Almost instantly every varied bit Of
work had ceased.
Away up on the majestic towers
squads of men--they look like black
dots from p yboat-were silently
slipping into their jackets. Men in
bosun 8 chairs Were slowly pulling
themselves up F'Travelers'' stopped
snd workmen stepped off, swinging the
stiff leg derricks in after them and
making fast the dangling hooks Soon
there was scattering procession Of
tiny figures over the cable foot paths
now up over the towers, now down
~
shore,
No Wife to Mourn.
They gathered III The masonry yard
in little groups and talked of Jack Me
Shane long after the ambulance had
gone. He was unmarried; and "tbat s
good said an older man soberlv
'tThere S no wife and children to cry -
Did be have mother! Oh, surel He
went homo for Christmas and came back
talking about her. 1t was to her that
he sent his savings. He didn t drink
or smoke. He was veteran of the
Spanish American war-a good soldier
and good bridgeman, ''He was well
thought Of, said every man gravely;
and that is The highest praise one
bridgemau gives another II means
loyalty. fairness, unselfishncss. Some
bridgemcn who don { live rs clean as
Jack McShane did gel the same need
OF praise
There was no more work that day
among the iron workers-out OF honor
TO the dead, however and not for the
sentimental reason sometimes given that
the men were superstitious and afraid.
There was but one mention of 'Blue
Monday,i and that came from a man
with a weak face and imaginative eyes.
ct s a blue Monday" he said dark
y. This very morning Jack was sad
like, and he says to me''-
He stopped as several turned and
sneered at him. "Cut it out, - said one.
"Jack was fcelin fine-whistlin when
he fell. / heard him.
'Shut off that talk, snapped the
foreman. Forget the Blue Monday,
Black .Friday and the thirteen business
and YOU ii all he better off. -
Next day two hundred bridgemen
lined up in the street outside the ma
sonry yard They were dressed in black
and their faces were solemn and shin
ing clean. hearse ratified down out
Of side street and the procession
moved away. That was the last Of Jack
McShaDe, bridgeman.
Down in PENNSYLVANIA in little rail.
rnad town an old woman is mourning
him, but the big bridge does not miss
HIM But for that lapse of one day the
work went on as before,
Death is only an incident III the
bridgeman s life. He looks upon il rs
a regular toll upon his trade. He never
speaks of it-cXcept as an incident.
Did any one see him fall?'' | asked.
Yes, several did. He was working
alongside heavy iron pipe. right at
the point Of il. where Il large hose is
fitted by means Of brass coupling. The
pipe brings up compressed air from the
big compressor engines below, distrib-
utlng II through the hose connections
to the pneumatic hammers and for other
power purposes. The hose burst-al-
most in McShane s face--and the air IS
full force Of two hundred and sixty
pounds 10 the square inch whrled him
off his feet like a feather-ofT and down
over the bridge
He kept his wits, as bridgcmau viii
under all circumstances, and he made
quick and desperate attempts TO save
himself. His hand, clutchiug wildly,
Just caught the bottom f1ange there in
midair. his feet dangling down. That
finger grip Was his last hold on life. His
body swung wildly with the momentum
Of his fall up and under the tTestle, His
fingers slipped till only the tips were
doggedly clinging to the rough iron. He
swung his other hand desperately for
the inner hange, missed 1t, and without
40 audible ontcry shot straight down TO
odd feet below.
And They Turned Their Heads.
This much his companions saw and
then they turned their heads; nor did
thev even look down. Death inspires
no curiosity among bridgcmen.
''T heard him hit" SAID one young
fellow. wincing a Little with the mem
ory of IT, ''He made an awful racket;
went clean through a three.lnch plank
like it was paper.
Another man got McShane s job and
there were dozen more after it-not
Young men for whom dangerous call
ing holds out d strong fascination mol
dull witted men TOO dense TO know dan
ger. but brJdgemen, true and tired, e%
perienced men who know that then
trade is the closest of all daily alliances
NAMMKMcA TT