Confessions of a Railroad Signalman

Considering the nature and intent of the following essays on the safety problem on American railroads, some kind of a foreword will not be out of place. As much as possible I wish to make this foreword a personal presentation of the subject. But in order to do this in a satisfactory manner, it will be necessary to take a preliminary survey of the situation and of the topics in which we, as railroad employees, are all personally interested.

In the industrial world of to-day, the railroad man occupies a position altogether different from the ordinary run of workers in factories or machine shops. On account of the nature and importance of our calling we are constantly in the public eye. By way of encouragement and as an incentive to good service, public opinion accords to us certain distinctive privileges. That there may be no excuse for laxity of conduct or inefficiency of service, we are looked upon in many ways as wards of the state and the nation. Not only are the hardships we endure and the dangers we are called upon to face matters in which the public is profoundly interested, but all details relating to our wages and to our treatment by railroad corporations have always been considered by the American people as topics in the discussion of which they are at all times intimately concerned.

Glancing backward at the history of railroad life in America, it is easy to perceive that this public sympathy and encouragement has been the strong right arm that has supported the railroad employee in a long-drawn-out struggle for the bettering of his social and financial condition. In some directions and in some branches of the service, the issues at stake have been bitterly contested, but the final results are probably unexampled among the successful achievements of organized labor. Not only numerically and financially, but also as regards the intelligence and education of its units, the railroad service to-day stands in the foremost position among the great industrial institutions of the country.

The nature of the service we railroad men render to the public in return for these benefits is most important, and, under present conditions, extremely dangerous. Some idea of the hazardous nature of our occupation may be gathered from the facts that, in a single year, one employee in every 364 was killed, and one in every 22 was injured. In the ranks of engineers, firemen, conductors, and brakemen, one in every 123 was killed and one in every 10 was injured. This is about the average record of recent years. It means, of course, an appalling number of accidents, and these accidents are manifestly an eloquent reflection of the risks to which the traveling public is constantly exposed.

In many ways humanity is indebted to the railroad man to as great a degree as to the sailor. The latter, indeed, has greater hardships to endure; he is not nearly so well paid, and he has to submit to a much stricter code of discipline. But for some reason the railroad man has the more dangerous occupation, if one may judge from a comparison of the fatalities that occur at sea and on the rail. In a storm at sea, when battened down under closed hatches, with nothing to think about but the fury of the gale and our own helpless situation, we appreciate to the full our dependence upon the courage and watchfulness of the sailor. But the public does not consider a railroad man from quite the same viewpoint, for the reason, perhaps, that the unavoidable dangers on the rail are not to be compared with the ever-present peril that surrounds a ship in its battle with the elements. And yet when we come to compare actual results, that is, the statistics in regard to ship travel and train travel, one is quickly confronted with the conclusion that the public is fully as dependent for its safety upon the human elements of vigilance and consecration to duty in the one case as in the other.