Democratic Sentinel, Volume 10, Number 19, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 June 1886 — ONE BRAVE ACT. [ARTICLE]

ONE BRAVE ACT.

BY W. H. S. ATKINSON.

Steamville was just a large railroad town in the West. Deduct the shops and yards of the Grand Transcontinental and New Orleans and Idaho Railways, with their necessary adjuncts, from Steamville, and nothing remained. Indeed, at the time of which we are writing very little did remain in a business way—for a great strike was in progress. * The shop doors were closed on cold forges, silent hammers and deserted benches; the round-houses were filled with dead locomotives; no freight trains moved in or ■out of the yards or depots. Altogether, Bteamville, for the time-being, ill deserved its name. It is not necessary for us to inquire into the causes which led up to the strike. Whether real or imaginary, a number of the Grand Transcontinental employes declared they had grievances which must be adjusted; so the District Assembly K. of L. ordered out all the freight trainmen of the Grand Transcontinental Railway, together with several of its tributary lines. This, with all subsequent orders emanating from the District Assembly, was signed “John Headford, Master Workman.” General Superintendent Mansel sat alone tn his private office, at Steamville headquarters. His duties had altered somewhat in the last few days. Instead of devoting his energies to bringing tfbout the safe and speedy running of trains, he now divided his time between telegraphing the President of the road, in Chicago, and interviewing detectives. He was worried a good deal. The fact was, he wished to do the right thing by the men, and at the same was not the man, at this critical time,'to fail the directors, who trusted him implicitly. One man—a man he had never seen — Superintendent Mansel cordially disliked, and that was none other than John Headford, the Master Workman whose name appeared at the foot of all the District Assembly documents. It is hardly surprising, perhaps, that the Superintendent (who was a good-hearted, whole-souled man in the main) bore no great love to any labor organizations. The Knights of Labor, District Assembly 2002, with its Master Workman, he absolutely disliked. “Lot of damned scoundrelly fire-bugs and trainwreckers, those labor agitators and wire pullers,” he would say; “trying to make questionable points for the workingmen, and a few dollars for themselves at the same time. There were all our boys working away and well satisfied with everything until along came these Knights of Labor with their master workmen, and secretaries, and every other kind of grand high mqnkey work. I’d just like to meet this fellow Headford, who is so fresh with his general orders. Nineteen to one he's a cowardly sneak, ashamed to show his face in Steamville, judging from the way he hides himself in his own town all the time. If I ever get near enough to him I’ll tell him what I think of him and his loafing crew, sure as my name is Tom Mansel.” At the end of which, or similar remarks, the General Superintendent would stretch himself out to the full length of his seventy-three inches. 4 * * * * # * *

It was 2:15 p. m. when the General Superintendent sauntered into his office and took his seat with an air of relief. Once more No. 14, the fast express carrying the mails for the far West, had been started out of Steamville without any mishap. So far the strikers had interfered with none but freight traffic; but there was no telling when the more reckless of their number might take upon themselves to impede the progress of passenger trains. Therefore the officers always felt better as each succeeding train carrying passengers departed in safety from Steamville, where the strikers were more numerous than at any other point along the line. The Superintendent had just lighted his cigar when a man entered the office, closing and locking the. door behind him. He was a detective in the employ of the railroad company. “Number 14 has just left, Mr. Mansel. Where is her first stop?” “ She will stop for water at Prairie Flower, fifty-five miles west of here. Why?” “That train will be wrecked at Running Creek, which is, I understand, ten miles this side of Prairie Flower. I have just learned that a gang of men went down on a hand-car this morning with tools, to loosen all the bolts and fastenings of the trestle over the creek. I’m afraid it’s too late to prevent a fearful accident. ” “But there is a telegraph station two miles this side of the creek,” said the Superintendent; “I will send, a message and have tbe operator flag Number 14. There is plenty of time; she is not due to pass that telegraph cabin. until 3:25. It is now just 2:25.” “It is too late, Mr. Mansel,” said the detective. “The arrangement was made to cut the wires immediately after the departure of Number 14 from Steamville. But have your operator try what he can do.” The operator was instructed to call all the offices between Steamville and Prairie

Flower. In a few moments he reported that he oould obtain no respone. “Good God!” exclaimed the excited Superintendent; “there is only one chance to save that train, but I’ll take it.” Rushing down to the yard he found the engine which had brought in Number 14 from the east. It was the only locomotive which had steam up, and the fireman was already commencing to rake out her fires. “Hold on!” shouted the Superintendent t 6 the fireman; “fire up, for God’s sake. Do as I tell you —it’s life or death—and I’ll pay yon five hundred dollars in cash tonight!” To the excited Superintendent every moment seemed an hour. In six minutes they had on a full head of steam and plenty of coal aboard. Mr. Mansel backed the engine on to the main track. But a crowd of angry strikers had gathered around, and, seeing the chief official of the road with his hand on the throttle, began to think some scheme was afoot to get ahead of them. Few, if any, of their number knew of the wrecking scheme; but, having allowed the passenger train to proceed unmolested, they would permit no “extras” to move. “Great heavens, boys!” shouted the frantic Superintendent, “we must save life. Number 14 will be wrecked if we cannot overtake her. Bum the round-house and smash every stick of property in the yard, if you will, but for God’s sake let me go on!” But the men would not listen. They thought it was a rase t@ get a locomotive outside the town limits and move some freight cars from the west yard, two miles away. They dragged Mansel and the fireman from the cab, while a number of them took possession of the locomotive and prepared to take her back to the round-house. It was useless for the Superintendent to protest or struggle; he had to give in. Rut, as he thought upon the terrible loss of life which must shortly occur, he saw a quiet and unassuming man step from the crowd and board the locomotive. As he did so eveiy other man on the engine climbed down, not one of the crowd interfering. As this man started the engine he called to Mansel, “Don’t you worry about the wreck until you hear from me.” One hour passed—two hours—three hours. About sundown Number 14 came back into Steamville. She was uninjured. All the passengers and all the trainmen were safe. But upon the floor of the bag-gage-car, covered with a couple of overcoats, lay the dead body of the man who had saved the train.

He had got away from Steamville all right, but m passing through the west yard a dozen different pistols had been emptied into the cab of the locomotive, forced to slow somewhat to go by the many switches in safety. There was no time to stop and explain to the men. Forty miles must be made in as many minutes, so the engineer, bleeding from half a score of bullet holes, kept ahead, and was soon bounding along the track at a terrible speed. Less than a mile from the rocking trestle he signaled Number 14 and brought the train lo a sfaudstill. He just had blood and breath enough left to tell the conductor about the scheme for wrecking the train, and with a parting injunction not to blame the Knights of Labor for such mean and dastardly work, the man died. General Superintendent Mansel was the first to view the body of the dead man after it was lifted tenderly from the baggagecar. And this was his first meeting with John Headford, Master Workman (for it was none other). He had said he would tell this John Headford what he thought of him the first time he saw him. But it was useless telling him anything now. If he could hear, the Superintendent would say (for Tom Mansel does not think it unmanly to acknowledge a mistake) —“Will you shake hands? You are a brave man.” John Headford’s heroic death had a good deal to do with bringing about a reconciliation between the railway company and its employes. Travelers over the Grand Transcontinental Railway may now see, at the eastern end of the new iron bridge over Running Creek, a tall marble shaft, erected by the passengers on Number 14 and the railway men of Steamville. Near the base is chiseled this inscription:

JOHN HEADFORD, • MASTKB WORKMAN, K. OF L. * “Curator love hath no man than ; this, that a man lay down his life ; for his friends. ” :