Here and Now Story Book Part 19

THE SUBWAY CAR

Whew-ee-ee-ee-ew-ew went the siren whistle. And all the men and all the women hurried toward the factory. For that meant it was time to begin work. Each man and each woman went to his particular machine. The steam was up; the belts were moving; the wheels were whirring; the piston rods were shooting back and forth. And one man made a piece of wheel, and one man made a part of a brake, and one man made a belt, and one man made a leather strap, and one man made a door, and one man made some straw-covered seats, and one man made a window-frame, and one man made a little wire brush. And then some other men took all these things and began putting them together. And when the car was finished some other men came and painted it, and on the side they painted the number 793.

The car stood on the siding wondering what he was for and what he was to do. Suddenly he heard another car come b.u.mping and screeching down the track. Before the new car could think what was happening,--bang!--the battered old car went smash into him. This seemed to be just what the man standing along side expected. For the car felt him swing on to the steps, and shout "Go ahead." At the same minute the car felt a piece of iron slip from his own rear and hook into the front of the other car.

And "go ahead" he did, though No. 793 thought he would be wrenched to pieces.

"Whatever is happening to me?" he nervously asked the car that was pushing him. "I feel my wheels going round and round underneath me and I can't stop them. Can't you just hear me creak? I'm afraid I will split in two."

The dilapidated old thing behind simply screamed with delight as he jounced over a switch.

"See here, now," he said in a rasping voice, "what do you think wheels are for anyway if they are not to go round? And if you can't hang together in a quiet little jaunt like this, you had better turn into a baby carriage and be done with it. Say, what do you think you were made for anyway, Freshie?"

With this he gave a vicious pull. Freshie thought it would probably loosen every carefully fastened bolt in his whole structure.

"And what's more," continued the amused and irritated old car, "if you think all you've got to do is to be pulled around like a fine lady in a limousine, you are pretty well fooled. Wait till you feel the juice go through you--just wait--that's all I say."

"What is juice?" groaned No. 793.

But he could get no answer except "Just wait, you will find out soon enough."

In another minute he had found out. He felt his door pulled open and a heavy tread come clump, clump, clump down the whole length of him to the little closet room at the end. There he felt levers pulled and switches turned. Suddenly the little wire brush underneath him dropped until it touched the third rail. Z-z-zr-zr-zr-zz-zz--What in the name of all blazes was happening to him? He tingled in every bolt. He quivered with fear. "This must be the juice!" Another lever was turned. He leaped forward on the track, jerking and thumping and creaking.

Then he settled down and it wasn't so bad. The first scare was over. He did not go to pieces. On the contrary he felt so excited and strong that he almost told the old thing behind him to take off his brush and let himself be pulled. But he was afraid of the cross old car. So he ventured timidly: "Isn't this great? I should like to go flying along in the sun like this all day."

"In the sun?" snarled his old companion. "Come now, Freshie, can't you catch on to what you are? You just look your fill at the old sun now for you won't see him again for some time."

"Why not?" whimpered No. 793.

But he needed no answer. Ahead of him he could see the track sliding down into a deep hole. The earth closed over him in a queer rounded arch, all lined with shiny white tiles. At the same moment the lights all up and down his own ceiling flashed on. He noticed then that he had a red lantern on his front. He could tell it by the red, glinting reflections it threw on the tiles as he tore along. Ahead he could see a great cl.u.s.ter of lights which seemed to be rushing towards him. Of course he was really rushing towards them, but he was so excited he got all mixed in his ideas.

"Where are we? And what on earth is that rushing towards us? And why do we come down here under the ground?" he screamed to the old car behind.

"There's no room for us on top," jerked the old car. "There are a heap of people in this old city of New York, Freshie, and you will find 'em on the surface or scooting in the elevated and here jogging along underneath the earth."

"People!" screamed No. 793, "I don't see any. What do we do with them in this hole anyway?"

Even as he spoke he felt the man in the little closet room in his front turn something. His wire brush lifted and all his strength seemed to ooze away. Then something clutched his wheels. He screeched,--yes, he really screeched, and then he stood still, close to the station platform. The station looked big to No. 793 and very brilliantly lighted. It was jammed with people who stood pressed against ropes in long rows.

A man on his own platform pulled down a handle and then another. He felt his end doors and then his center doors fly open. Then tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp--a hundred feet came pounding on his floor. He could feel them and somehow he liked the feel. He could even feel two small feet that walked much faster than the others, and in another moment he felt two little knees on one of his straw-covered seats. Then the handles were pulled again. His doors banged closed; z-zr-zr-rr--the brush underneath touched the rail and the electricity shot through him. He felt a hundred feet shift quickly and heavily. He felt his leather straps clutched by a hundred hands. And amid the noise he heard a little voice say, "Father, isn't this a brand new subway car?" And then he knew what he was!

BORIS TAKES A WALK AND FINDS MANY DIFFERENT KINDS OF TRAINS

This first story is an attempt to let a child discover the significance of his everyday environment,--of subways and elevated railways. Here there is no content new to the city child. But the relationship to congestion he has not always seen for himself. In the second story the lay-out of New York on a crowded island is discovered. Again the content is old but its significance may be new. Both these stories verge on the informational.

BORIS TAKES A WALK AND FINDS MANY DIFFERENT KINDS OF TRAINS

Many little boys and girls With fathers and with mothers, Many little boys and girls With sisters and with brothers, Many little boys and girls They come from far away.

They sail and sail to big New York, And there they land and stay!

And you would never, never guess When they grow big and tall, That they had come from far away When they were wee and small!

One of the little boys who sailed and sailed until he came to big New York was named Boris. He came as the others did, with his father and his mother and his sisters and his brothers. He came from a wide green country called Russia. In that country he had never seen a city, never seen wharves with ocean steamers and ferry boats and tug boats and barges,--never seen a street so crowded you could hardly get through, had never seen great high buildings reaching up, up, up to the clouds, he thought. And he had never heard a city, never heard the noise of elevated trains and surface cars and automobiles and the many, many hurrying feet. He often thought of the wide green country he had left behind, and he used to talk about it to his mother in a funny language you wouldn't understand. For Boris and his family still spoke Russian.

But Boris was nine years old and he loved new things as well as old. So he grew to love this crowded noisy new home of his as well as the still wide country he had left.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Now Boris had been in New York quite a while. But he hadn't been out on the streets much. One day he said to his mother in the funny language, "I think I'll take a walk!"

"All right," she answered, "be careful you don't get run over by one of those queer wagons that run without horses!"

"Yes I will," laughed Boris for he was a careful and a smart little boy and knew well how to take care of himself for all he was so little.

So Boris went out on the street. He walked to the corner and waited to go across.

Kachunk, kachunk, kachunk went by an auto; Clopperty, clopperty, clopperty went by a horse; Thunk-a-ta, thunk-a-ta, bang, bang went by a truck.

He waited another minute.

Kachunk, kachunk, kachunk went by an auto; Clopperty, clopperty, clopperty went by a horse; Thunk-a-ta, thunk-a-ta, bang, bang went by a truck.

He stood there a long while watching this stream of autos and horses and trucks go by and he thought:

"Dear me! dear me!

What shall I do?

The're so many things, I'll never get through!"

Just then all the autos and the horses and the trucks stopped. They stood still right in front of him. And Boris saw that the big man standing in the middle of the street had put up his hand to stop them.

So he scampered across. Boris didn't know that the big man was the traffic policeman!

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Now Boris scampered down the block to the next street. There he waited to go across.

Kachunk, kachunk, kachunk went by an auto; Clopperty, clopperty, clopperty went by a horse; Thunk-a-ta, thunk-a-ta, bang, bang went by a truck.

He stood there a long time watching the autos and horses and trucks go by. And he thought: