Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1931-02-23

, what We grow up to no one seems to
know, exactly, we discovered that
motormen were just men.
And, often, harasSed men, and some
times, alas, Surly men! A passenger
was Just as likely to run into groucny
street car employe as into grouchy
| store clerk. 1t was peculiar about the
men OF the traction companieS-if all
went well, one merely handed one of
them fare-it was called a ticket"
until it changed its shape and COM
position and became token and
then forgot about him.
The man at the tiller was a part
OF the machine. If one happened to
be near the front, and was in a con-
templative mood, he might survey the
man at the wheel, and vaguely realize
that he had a wife at home and chill
dren to feed. Occasionally, in talka-
tive mood, one became amazed to dis
cover that this grumpy old fellow with
his flowing muStache, was a human
being. after ALL with a daughter who
was going to graduate from high school
! tomorrow. Somehow that put new
light on these Woodworking, faithful
servants OF the great many-headed pub
lie.
But what was one to think of the
motorman, who, on a wet and nasty
night, deliberately pulled away just as
one thought he was going to stop and
take one aboard? Surely muffled curses
followed him into the night and they
do say that the glass of more than one
car was shattered by irate patrons who
resented such tactics.
Or how about that time pleaSanter
to recall, when you innocently folded
your transfer and SO handed it to the
conductor. You can see him yet, ex-
amining the slip of paper as If it were
dynamite, or something.
Whats the matter?" you asked, re-
senttull" DO you see germs on it, or
something's"
ITS folded" he said. critically, with
bitter glance at both it and you
Well" you retorted, quick as a wink,
do you want me to present it to you
in frame?"
This repartee floored the fellow prop
erly. 1t was the only time in your life
that you ever said the right thing at
the right time. Usually you would
have thought Of such a bright reply
hours later, but this time, by George,
you came right back at himl
X 4
A more pleasant memory is of the
motorman of one-man car, who STOP
ped his car in the night rather than
run over cat which had become dazed
by the glare of his headlight. He was
good man, and no doubt had q pet
of his own at home.
But memory is soured by the recol-
lection of several disagrec1ble expert
ences, in which, as strange as it may
seem, the conductors and motormen
were invariably wrong Usually they
were. Perhaps no one but an employee
can know the inner irritation which
arises as a result of the constant JAM
ming and examining of human beings
into given space.
Yet 1t may be doubted If the COM
panies, as institutions, have as yet
5ensed completely the necessity for uni
versal courtesy, and complete under
standing of the problems of the riders.
Riding on perhaps the best bus in the
city the other day, we came to a point
where transfer to a just-arrived car
was necessary. The bus driver footed
his horn half dozen times, as a signal
that he had a transferring passenger,
but the car went merrily ahead AS
q result, this passenger walked steadily
Tor 10 minutes toward his street, and.
once there, looked back There yet was
no other car IN sight. Such little diff
ficulties arise every day in the life of
patrons OF the companies. Yet, by and
large, the cars and buses are the safest
places in the streets, and as long as
they remain so. we must take off our
hats to motormen and conductors. our
childhood ideals