Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 15, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 April 1893 — TRAINMEN’S SIGNALS. [ARTICLE]

TRAINMEN’S SIGNALS.

Upon Tlielr Right or Wrong Interpretation Depend the Lives of Thousands ot People. If you see a switchman standing on a railroad acting like a galvanized frog don't think he is a fool. He’s only earning his salary. Every time he swings his arms to aud fro he means a great many more things than the average citizen kuows anything about. He may be a sooty-looking, commonplace sort of fellow from an exterior point of view, but all the internal mechanism of his dome of thought is as clear as a bell, and as for memory—well, if a switchman didn’t have a memory like the recording angel’s there would be wrecks from Dau to Beersheba. When you lie half awake in tho berth of a Pullman, listening to the monotonous clickety-click, clickety-click that makes things melt away before your eyes in a strange unreal fashion, and woos you gently to sleep, there is a little army of switchmen scattered all along down the line, swinging their tired arms to and fro in a releutless endeavor to clear the way for you, aud when each crew has its engine or freight safely sidetracked they stand and wait for you to pass, and watch the tail lights of your sleeper fade away into the dust and the gloom. Then there is another vast deal of arm swingiog to be gone through before they can get their own train back on the main line again.

The casual observer who chances to see a switchman manipulate a train at a crowded crossing, usually fails to distinguish any method in his motions except a beckoning movement which is a world-wide sign to “come along,” or a movement just the reverse signifying “go away.’’ In reality, however, his every motion is replete with the deepest meaning. If his train is approaching' another train, or another car, which wishes to couple to it, he stands with his arms oxtended, and as tho distance grows less and less the palms of his hands are brought nearer aud nearer together, until finally, when the cars are sufficiently near to admit of the operating, he brings his hands together and then drops them to his side. The engineer, being entirely familiar witli all these various movements, regulates his pressure on the throttle by the gradually approaching hands of the switchman, as he is entirely unable to see from his station iu the cab of the engine how near he is getting to the other train. When lie sees tho hands touch each other and then drqp, ho brings his engine to a standstill. The operation of coupling is attended with considerable danger when performed by thi‘ old-fashioned pin method, and miscalculations or carelessness have brought about the deaths of n great many men between the cars. In fnct, one almost dislikes to watch a man standing calmly by the sheer, hank end of a freight car while a ponderous train rolls down upon him with irresistible force, apparently bent upon crushing him to death.

There is a loud clank, the sound of a pin rattling into its socket, übd the man steps forth unharmed, and you feel just a little bit like a fool. One of the most peculiar antics in the switchman's vocabulary is tho one ho brings into use when ho wants to make what he calls a running switch. The uninitiated sometimes speak of it as “throwing” a ear, and that expression convoys the idea very well. Tho engine puts on a high rate of speed, moving in a backward direction, and just before the cars reach the switch those that are to be transferred, which arc uncoupled, nre allowed to run by their own momentum, while tho rest of tho train is brought to a stop. The disconnected ears shoot on over the switch. Well, to bring about all this the switchman has to do a variety of things. First, with his beckoning movement, he signals the engineer to proceed backwards; then, as the ti nin nears the switch, he raises one arm high above his head, and waves it around just as Baby Cleveland waves its rattle. That means to put on steam. Then tho train must be stopped by dropping the hands to the sides, as usual. With all this backing nnd reversing, and darting hither and thither, it is very often necessary that the whistle should be blown as a warning. The switchmau watches out for all that sort of thing too, when the train is going backward, and the engineer cannot see where he is going. AVhen he thinks the whistle ought to be blown he makes a grab nt an imaginary lever and jerks away with all the zest in the world. The engineer, seeing these motions, understands immediately what is wanted, and does the whistle act in good earnest. The amount of information that a skillful man can convey by signs is wonderful. A switchman was standing at one of our local street crossings lately trying to get a train through some rather difficult manoeuvres. First, he crossed his arms, then uncrossed them and held up the index finger of his left bond, holding his arm at the same time in the direction in which he wished the train to go. Only three, or at the outside only four, very simple gestures. Yet by these movements he told the cmgineer to pull the train across the street, take out his pin and take the engine to the switch on the left side of the depot. The bane of the switch engine in New Orleans is the army of mules that daily haul cotton floats and other vehicles right under its very nose. Incidentally it may he said that the switch engine is also the banc of the mules. This faet has given rise to a peculiar, rather idiot-looking, gesture on the part of the switchmen. When they see a team coming across the track with thi.t calm oblivion of exterior things which characterizes the mule and the negro, they place their hands up by their ears and try to look as much like mules themselves as possible. It’s queer, but the engineer tumbles right away, which, after all, is the main consideration. Another gesture, which has an entirey local significance, consists of placing me finger on the eye and making a C with the index finger and thumb of the other hand. This means “go to the Illinois Central track.” The conductor also finds it a great advantage to be able to use the signals to convey his instructions to the engineer. He does it lust as the switchmen do. At night lanterns arc used b/ both conductors and switchmen, as their hands would not be visible. Swinging the lantern forward is understood by the engineer to mean “go ahead,” while the reverse motive instructs him to “come back on her.” When it is desired to have the train move cautiously, as in coupling cars, the lantern is first held up in the air and then brought down quite slowly, until the train is almost against the car to be coupled. Then it is brought down with a quick movement.

Lanterns arc also used at night by station agents to stop the train, cr “flag it down,” as they term it. To do this the lantern is swung horizontally across the track, in full view of the approaching train. The engineer expresses quite a few railroad idioms by the use of the whistle. The ideas conveyed by different blasts, or combinations of blasts, are not tho snme on all roads. One long whistle, however, indicates that the train is approaching a station, while two is tho signal to “take off brakes,” Three long whistles instructs the crew to “put brakes oil.” When it is desired to summon the station agent, the flag hoy, or any one connected with the train, four long blasts nre given, nnd four short blasts indicate that the train is to bo run backwards. On a good many railroads, besides the usual whistle indicating the approach to a station, four short whistles are given to inquire of the agent whether he has instructions for the engineer. If he fens none lie displays two red halls, and the engineer replies by two short whistles, signifying that he understands. The responsibility nttnohing to the position of telegraph operator at stations where instructions are received is very great, indeed. An operator who now occupies quite a prominent position with the Southern Pacific railroad relates tho following illustrative of this fact:

“I had fallen asleep,” said he, “under iny mosquito not, with a half-read novel iu*my hand. I was suddenly awakened by the low tic-a-tic of my instrument. “A telegrapher will hoar that sound no matter how fast asleep ho may be. They say soldiers hear the long roll when they never would hear anything else, and I suppose it is all pretty much on the same principle. Well, when I heard the thing ticking away I became wideawake in an instant, and made haste to answer. ' “ ‘You have been asleep.' “Train dispatchers have a hloftd-curd-ling way-of always knowing when a man has boon asleep. 11 ‘I know I have,’ I answered. “ ‘Take a message for train No. I began to feel decidedly nervous ns I realized that it was past the hour at which train No. was due at my station. “ ‘Wait,’ I answered, ‘her hour is past!’ Hushing out to the track I looked up and down, lint there was nothing in sight either way. Then I took my lantern aud carefully inspected the rails to see if the dewdrops were smeared together, which would lie the case if she had passed. But nature herself was against me—there wasn’t any dew. “I hastened back to tho instrument and found to my horror that the train dispatcher had arranged for her to side track at my station until the westbound train had passed. “Now, if she lmd already gone by, the two of them, jumping along at forty miles an hour, were headed right for each other! When a fellow realizes that ho has by his own carelessness, put everything in trim for a smash up and lose liis job iu tho bargain, a sickening sensation comes over him that is almost impossible to describe. “Again I heard the ticker. “ ‘lloro she is, just heaving in sight,’ came from a brother operator, who was stationed a little ways down the line, in the direction from which the train was duo “Well, I could have hugged that fellow, though I had never boon particularly partial to him before."—[New Orleans Picayune.