<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></SPAN>CHAPTER V</h2>
<p class="center">"GO WEST YOUNG MAN AND GROW UP WITH THE
COUNTRY"</p>
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<p class="cap_1">IN justice to the many thousands of P——n
porters, as well as many conductors,
who were in the habit of retaining the
company's money, let it be said that
they are not the hungry thieves and dishonest
rogues the general public might think them to be,
dishonest as their conduct may seem to be. They
were victims of a vicious system built up and winked
at by the company itself.</p>
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<p>Before the day of the Inter-State Commerce
Commission and anti-pass and two-cent-per-mile
legislation, and when passengers paid cash fares, it
was a matter of tradition with the conductors to
knockdown, and nothing was said, although the
conductors, as now, were fairly well paid and the
company fully expected to lose some of the cash
fares.</p>
<p>In the case of the porters, however, the circumstances
are far more mitigating. At the time I was
with the company there were, in round numbers,
eight thousand porters in the service on tourist
and standard sleepers who were receiving from a
minimum of twenty-five dollars to not to exceed
forty dollars per month, depending on length and
desirability of service. Out of this he must furnish,
for the first ten years, his own uniforms and cap,
consisting of summer and winter suits at twenty
and twenty-two dollars respectively. After ten
years<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</SPAN></span>
of continuous service these things are furnished
by the company. Then there is the board, lodging
and laundry expense. Trainmen are allowed from
fifty to sixty per cent off of the regular bill of fare,
and at this price most any kind of a meal in an a-la-carte
diner comes to forty and fifty cents. Besides,
the waiters expect tips from the crew as
well as from the passengers and make it more uncomfortable
for them if they do not receive it than
they usually do for the passenger.</p>
<p>I kept an accurate itemized account of my living
expenses, including six dollars per month for a room
in Chicago, and economize as I would, making one
uniform and cap last a whole year, I could not get
the monthly expense below forty dollars—fifteen
dollars more than my salary, and surely the company
must have known it and condoned any reasonable
amount of "knock down" on the side to make
up the deficiency in salary. The porter's "knock
down" usually coming through the sympathy, good
will and unwritten law of "knocking down"—that
the conductor divide equally with the porter. All
of which, however, is now fast becoming a thing of
the past, owing to recent legislation, investigations
and strict regulation of common carriers by Congress
and the various laws of the states of the Union,
with the added result that conductors' wages have
increased accordingly. Few conductors today are
foolish enough to jeopardize their positions by indulging
in the old practice, and it leaves the porters
in a sorry plight indeed.</p>
<p>All in all, the system, while deceptive and dishonest
on its face, was for a time a tolerated evil,
apparently<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</SPAN></span>
sanctioned by the company and became
a veritable disease among the colored employees
who, without exception, received and kept the company's
money without a single qualm of conscience.
It was a part of their duty to make the job pay
something more than a part of their living expenses.</p>
<p>Ignorant as many of the porters were, most of them
knew that from the enormous profits made that the
company could and should have paid them better
wages, and I am sure that if they received living
wages for their services it would have a great moralizing
effect on that feature of the service, and greatly
add to the comfort of the traveling public.</p>
<p>However, the greedy and inhuman attitude of
this monoply toward its colored employees has just
the opposite effect, and is demoralizing indeed.
Thousands of black porters continue to give their
services in return for starvation wages and are
compelled to graft the company and the people
for a living.</p>
<p>Shortly before my cessation of activities in connection
with the P——n company it had a capitalization
of ninety-five million dollars, paying eight
per cent dividend annually, and about two years
after I was compelled to quit, it paid its stockholders
a thirty-five million dollar surplus which
had accumulated in five years. Just recently a
"melon was cut" of about a like amount and over
eight thousand colored porters helped to accumulate
it, at from twenty-five to forty dollars per month.
A wonder it is that their condition does not breed
such actual dishonesty and deception that society
would be forced to take notice of it, and the traveling
public<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</SPAN></span>
should be thankful for the attentive services
given under these near-slave conditions. As for
myself, the reader has seen how I made it "pay"
and I have no apologies or regrets to offer. When
that final reckoning comes, I am sure the angel
clerk will pass all porters against whom nothing
more serious appears than what I have heretofore
related.</p>
<p>While I was considered very fortunate by my
fellow employees, the whole thing filled me with
disgust. I suffered from a nervous worry and fear
of losing my position all the time, and really felt
relieved when the end came and I was free to pursue
a more commendable occupation.</p>
<p>In going out of the Superintendent's office on my
farewell leave, the several opportunities I had seen
during my experience with the P——n company
loomed up and marched in dress parade before me;
the conditions of the Snake River valley and the
constructiveness of the people who had turned the
alkali desert into valuable farms worth from fifty
to five hundred dollars an acre, thrilled me so that
I had no misgivings for the future. But Destiny
had other fields in view for me and did not send me
to that land of Eden of which I had become so fond,
in quest of fortune. Such a variety of scenes was
surely an incentive to serious thought.</p>
<p>What was termed inquisitiveness at home brought
me a world of information abroad. This inquisitiveness,
combined with the observation afforded by
such runs as those to Portland and around the circle
and, perhaps, coming back by Washington D.C.,
gave practical knowledge. Often western sheepmen,
who<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</SPAN></span>
were ready talkers, returning on my car
from taking a shipment to Chicago, gave me some
idea of farming and sheepraising. I remember
thinking that Iowa would be a fine place to own a
farm, but quickly gave up any further thought of
owning one there myself. A farmer from Tama,
that state, gave me the information. He was a
beautiful decoration for a P——n berth and
a neatly made bed with three sheets, and I do not
know what possessed him to ever take a sleeper,
for he slept little that night—I am sure. The next
morning about five o'clock, while gathering and
shining shoes, I could not find his, and being curious,
I peeped into his berth. What I saw made me laugh,
indeed. There he lay, all bundled into his bed in his
big fur overcoat and shoes on, just as he came into
the car the evening before. He was awake and
looked so uncomfortable that I suggested that he
get up if he wasn't sleepy. "What say?" he answered,
leaning over and sticking his head out of
the berth as though afraid someone would grab
him.</p>
<p>As this class of farmers like to talk, and usually
in loud tones, I led him into the smoking room as
soon as he jumped out of his berth, to keep him from
annoying other passengers. Here he washed his
face, still keeping his coat on.</p>
<p>"Remove your coat," I suggested, "and you will
be more comfortable."</p>
<p>"You bet," he said taking his coat off and sitting
on it. Lighting his pipe, he began talking and I
immediately inquired of him how much land he
owned.</p>
<p>He<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</SPAN></span>
answered that he owned a section. "Gee!
but that is a lot of land," I exclaimed, getting interested,
"and what is it worth an acre?"</p>
<p>"The last quarter I bought I paid eighty dollars
an acre" he returned. That is over thirteen thousand
and I could plainly see that my little two thousand
dollar bank account wouldn't go very far in
Iowa when it came to buying land. That was nine
years ago and the same land today will sell around
one hundred and fifty dollars an acre, and the "end
is not yet."</p>
<p>I concluded on one thing, and that was, if one
whose capital was under eight or ten thousand dollars,
desired to own a good farm in the great central
west he must go where the land was new or raw and
undeveloped. He must begin with the beginning
and develop with the development of the country.
By the proper and accepted methods of conservation
of the natural resources and close application
to his work, his chances for success are good.</p>
<p>When I finally reached this conclusion I began
searching for a suitable location in which to try my
fortune in the harrowing of the soil.</p>
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<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</SPAN></span></p>
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