Russia's Awakening

1904

In Russia it is the government only that sleeps. The people are awake and astir, says the author of "Greater Russia." They are making few demands and feeling a new freedom which is apparent every day in the absence of the former rigid repression, and in the frequent indulgence in license that is miscalled liberty.

One will sometimes see on the palace quay in St. Petersburg a line of people waiting for the steamer to take them to the islands. Along comes some high official who, instead of awaiting his turn, drives to the head of the line and crowds in ahead of the others. Formerly such an occurrence would have been received in silence as a matter of course, but now the people hiss and denounce the official, and police do not interfere.

If a street-car is delayed for a connection at some transfer-station, the passengers often become riotous and demand their fare back, or begin to pound on the door and even break windows until the police make the driver go ahead without waiting for the other car; and he is not allowed to stop again until he reaches his destination.

If an officer remonstrates with a street-car conductor for lack of courtesy to a passenger the crowd will at once interfere, and even the offended passenger turns on him. The officer is told to give his orders to Soldiers who have to obey, not to free men who do not, and not to interfere between men who are as good as he is.

These are trifling things in themselves, says the traveller, but to one who has long known Russia they are startling signs of a new spirit of freedom.

Good-By to the Train Boy

1901

Good-by to the train boy. On January 1, 1901, on two important American railroad systems, the experiment, heretofore tried tentatively, of excluding from their cars all peddling of popcorn, peanuts, cigars, newspapers, games, caramels, matches and magazines, was inaugurated and the "train boy" summarily done away with.

Against this innovation serious and urgent opposition was expected, for the train boy, with his wares, had come to be regarded, if not as a cherished, certainly as an unavoidable, incident of American passenger travel by railroad.

In the evolution of modern travel to its present point of excellence, the uniformed conductor distinguishable only by his metal badge, the loud-shouting brakeman, and car coupler disappeared, but the "candy or train boy" with his stock of peanuts and confectionery had lingered on, a burden to the patience of many travelers and an unnecessary survival of archaic railroading.


The Time in Spain

When the clock struck twelve on the dawn of the new century Spain inaugurated a change in the methods of computing time. Hereafter the clocks of that kingdom will count the hours from 1 to 24, instead of going as far 12 and then beginning all over again as they did the day before. The Madrid or Barcelona business man will rise at 7; go to work at 8:30; lunch at 12; quit for the day at 17; dine at 18; go to the theater at 20; reach home at 21:30; lunch 22:42; and retire at 23:30. —Exchange.

Flashed Wife's Pass for Girl Companion

1920

Brakeman and "Other Woman" Fined $300 for Fraud

DES MOINES, Iowa — C. G. Graham, special inspector for the Rock Island road, returned from Ottumwa, where he ran down a pair using a railroad pass fraudulently. He has prosecuted several of these cases and has many others to investigate.

In the Ottumwa case a brakeman at Eldon named Vandevere and a girl from Fairfield named Linn were fined $300 each by Judge Wade for using the pass of the wife of Vandevere for Miss Linn.

The girl was introduced to conductors as his wife by Vandevere, who is a former service man and has a wife and child at Eldon.

Vandevere denied entertaining more than friendship for the girl, and she testified she was living on the savings she had made when employed in a store. The judge gave them permission to pay the fine $50 a month.


Masked Gang Raids Liquor Warehouse

LEXINGTON, Kentucky — Seven men, masked with handkerchiefs, raided the old Tarr distillery warehouse here and, at the point of revolvers, forced two guards to unlock the warehouse. The gang stole ninety-four cases of whisky seized last January at Versailles, Kentucky.

Lives In Same Caboose 35 Years

1920

Old "O370" Is "Home" to Freight Conductor

PERRY, Iowa — Railroad men and other humans with a love for their homes will appreciate this story, a tale of how Conductor L. C. Newell of the middle division of the Milwaukee Railroad has for thirty-five years made his home while on the road in one caboose, the O370.

That one caboose could withstand the knocking about it gets for so long a period is something worth remembering. And to have the same conductor all these years is another story.

Sometimes, for short periods, it has happened that Conductor Newell would be compelled to get along with some other "tail cracker" to his trains and when it did happen he was always lost and unhappy. Just recently the O370 has been in the shops for some minor repairs and Conductor Newell's delight when it was returned was plainly apparent.

Conductor Newell has had this caboose since 1885, so long, in fact, that he looks upon it with an air of proprietorship that is understandable and permissible. It was in January, 1885, thirty-five years ago, that Conductor Newell was transferred from the Eastern to the Middle division and he was permitted to take the caboose with him. As he has been on a regular way freight and has worked steadily, he has made many thousands of miles journey in that caboose.

The O370 has been his home practically all these years, for it is fitted with bunks and it has always been customary for the crew to occupy it nights when away from home, and the walls have undergone at times a certain fanciful decoration that makes it home-like and inviting to railroad men.

Once the caboose, after leaving the shops, was sent to another division, but as soon as Superintendent of Transportation Whipple, who is a personal friend of Mr. Newell, heard of it, he promptly had the old O370 returned to Conductor Newell and his crew.

Wagner As a Humorist

1903

How the Master Responded to a London Critic's Suggestion

Richard Wagner was not a man to whom one would naturally ascribe the faculty of ready joking. It is not from the creator of the serious, somber "Flying Dutchman" or the composer of the half mystical, half religious, opera "Parsifal" that one would expect cheerful pranks at the expense of other people. Nevertheless an instance is on record of how the great tone painter of Baireuth played a very funny trick on a newspaper and probably a good many of the readers accustomed to relying on what it said. It was in the fifties. Wagner, then still climbing the ladder of fame, was conducting the Philharmonic concerts in the British metropolis for a season.

Being, as he remained to the end, a very ardent admirer of Beethoven and, in fact, knowing that master's nine symphonies by heart, he selected several of them for performance in the said series of concerts. The first time, then, that Wagner conducted a Beethoven symphony in London the public received the rendition kindly enough, but the next morning a certain newspaper with a very large circulation came out with a rather severe criticism. The author of "Lohengrin" was in cold print but in unreserved terms scolded for directing a symphony by the immortal Beethoven without the score in front of him. Such a proceeding, to which London was unaccustomed, was sheer presumption, so ran the criticism, and, after further uncomplimentary remarks, the great and influential journal advised young Heir Wagner to use a score when he conducted a Beethoven symphony again.

Well, soon Herr Wagner did, this time with a book of music before him on the desk. He was seen to turn over the leaves with a certain amount of regularity too. His reward came the next day in the form of a commendatory article in the aforesaid newspaper which praised him for a very much better interpretation of Beethoven than his last, due, of course, to the suggested use of the score, whereupon Wagner announced the fact that the score in front of him the previous evening was that of Rossini's opera, "The Barber of Seville," turned upside down. — Collier's Weekly.

Tales of Two Nickels and a Five-Dollar Gold Piece

1903

TALES OF TWO NICKELS

Singular Things That Happened to Street Car Travelers.

It was in a Boston street car. When the car stopped at a crossing, a lady got up and went to the door. As she rose there was the chink of a coin on the floor, but before it occurred to any one to stop her, she was out of the car and across the street. Two ladies, who had sat next to her looked with anxious indifference on the floor. One of them leaned slightly forward, but said nothing. Just as the conductor was reaching for the bell-rope a young man spied the coin, and dashed out of the car. He caught the lady who had left the car, handed her the coin, ran back, caught the step of the car as the motors began to sing in crescendo, and sat down breathless. One of the two ladies opposite him leaned forward and said coldly, "Young man, what did you do with the nickel I dropped?" The passengers tittered. An old man at the other end of the car turned to his neighbor, "That reminds me," he said, "of something that happened to my wife years ago.

"It was before the days of conductors, when we used to drop nickels into a slot, and they ran down a groove to the box behind the driver.

"My wife had started out with a little change and one of those troublesome five-dollar gold pieces which used to be more commonly in circulation than they are now. Her eyes were not good, and so she was nervous about her gold piece, and had it on her mind all the way downtown.

"When she took a car for home, she met a friend, and grew interested in conversation with her. She put her coin in the slot absentmindedly. The driver turned as it struck the box. You remember the coin fell into a glass compartment first, and then the driver pushed a lever which sent it into the strong box below.

"As my wife heard the click of the lever, she thought of her five-dollar gold piece. She looked in her purse. Sure enough it was gone. She went forward and spoke to the driver. He said he hadn't looked very carefully, but he thought there were only three nickels in the glass receptacle when he pushed the lever.

"My wife insisted. The driver said if she would ride to the end of the line, the cashier at the station would open the box. This meant a journey of two miles beyond our street, and my wife was in a hurry.

"An old gentleman who sat by the door said he was going to the end of the line, and offered to give her $4.95, and get the gold piece at the station. My wife thanked him and took the money. When she got home she found the $5 gold piece in the lining of her purse.

"Next day I went to the station. The cashier said an old gentleman had made him open the box. There was no gold piece. The old gentleman had left in a rage, refusing to give his name. He said he had been swindled, and did not want to be known for a fool.

"We advertised in the papers, but we never heard from him. — Youth's Companion.

—Davenport Daily Republican, Davenport, Iowa, March 4, 1903, page 3.