CHAPTER VI
THE BOYHOOD OF A GENIUS
The class had assembled again in Professor Gray's study and all wereeager to hear the second talk on Edison. There was a delay of manyminutes past the hour stated, but the anticipation was such that thetime was hardly noticed. During the interim, Professor Gray came towhere Bill and Gus sat.
"I hear that you boys intend to go to work in the mills next week," hesaid. "Well, now, I have some news and a proposition, so do not bedisappointed if the beginning sounds discouraging. In the first place Isaw Mr. Deering, superintendent of the mills, again and he told me thatwhile he would make good his promise to take you on, there would hardlybe more than a few weeks' work. Orders are scarce and they expect to layoff men in August, though there is likely to be a resumption of businessin the early fall when you are getting back into school work. Sowouldn't it be better to forego the mill work,--there goes theannouncement! I'll talk with you before you leave."
"But we need the money; don't we, Gus?"
"We do," said Gus.
"I wonder if the Professor thinks we're millionaires." Bill was plainlydisappointed.
"Oh, well, he didn't finish what he was saying to us. Let's listen tothe weather report," demanded Gus, ever optimistic and joyful.
The words came clearer than ever out of that wonderful horn. There wasto be rain that afternoon--local thunderstorms, followed by clearing andcooler. On the morrow it would be cloudy and unsettled.
Bill felt as though that prediction suited his mental state! Gus wasnever the kind to worry; he sat smiling at the horn and he received withadded pleasure the music of a band which followed. And then came thesecond talk on the boyhood of the master of invention.
"It has been said," spouted the horn, "that high mental characteristicsare accompanied by heroic traits. Whether true or not generally, it wasdemonstrated in young Edison and it governed his learning telegraphy andthe manner thereof. The story is told by the telegraph operator at Mt.Clemens, where the red-headed conductor threw the train boy and hislaboratory off the train.
"'Young Edison,' says the station agent, 'had endeared himself to thestation agents, operators and their families all along the line. As themixed train did the way-freight work and the switching at Mt. Clemens,it usually consumed not less than thirty minutes, during which time Alwould play with my little two-and-a-half-year old son, Jimmy.
"'It was at 9:30 on a lovely summer morning. The train had arrived,leaving its passenger coach and baggage car standing on the main trackat the north end of the station platform, the pin between the baggageand the first box car having been pulled out. There were about a dozenfreight cars, which had pulled ahead and backed in upon thefreight-house siding. The train men had taken out a box car and pushedit with force enough to reach the baggage car without a brakemancontrolling it.
"'At this moment Al turned and saw little Jimmy on the main track,throwing pebbles over his head in the sunshine, all unconscious ofdanger. Dashing his papers and cap on the platform he plunged to therescue.
"'The train baggage man was the only eyewitness. He told me that when hesaw Al jump toward Jimmy he thought sure both boys would be crushed.Seizing Jimmy in his arms just as the box car was about to strike them,young Edison threw himself off the track. There wasn't a tenth of asecond to lose. By this instinctive act he saved his own life, for if hehad thrown the little chap first and then himself, he would have beencrushed under the wheels.
"'As it was, the front wheel struck the heel of the newsboy's boot andhe and Jimmy fell, face downward on the sharp, fresh-gravel ballast sohard that they were both bleeding and the baggage man thought sure thewheel had gone over them. To his surprise their injuries proved to beonly skin deep.
"'I was in the ticket office when I heard the shriek and ran out in timeto see the train hands carrying the two boys to the platform. My firstthought was: 'How can I, a poor man, reward the dear lad for risking hislife to save my child's?' Then it came to me, 'I can teach himtelegraphy.' When I offered to do this, he smiled and said, 'I'd like tolearn,' and learn he did. I never saw any one pick it up so fast. It wasa sort of second nature with him. After the conductor treated him sobadly, throwing off his apparatus, boxing his ears and making him hardof hearing, Al seemed to lose his interest in his business as train boy.
"'Some days Al would stop at my station at half past nine in the morningand stay all day while the train went on to Detroit and returned to Mt.Clemens in the evening. The train baggage man who saw Al rescue Jimmywould get the papers in Detroit and bring them up to Mt. Clemens forhim. During these long hours the Edison boy made rapid progress inlearning. And every day he made the most of the half hour or more ofpractice he had while the train stopped at Mt. Clemens each way.
"'At the end of a couple of weeks I missed him for several days. Nexttime he dropped off he showed me a set of telegraph instruments he hadmade in a gunshop in Detroit, where the stationer who had sold him goodshad told the owner of the machine shop the story of the printing press.'
"The first place young Edison worked after he was graduated from the Mt.Clemens private school of telegraphy was in Port Huron, his home town.Here he had too many boy friends to let him keep on the job as ayouthful telegrapher should. Besides, he had a laboratory in his homeand found it too fascinating to take enough sleep. Between too much sidework and mischief, young Edison sometimes found himself in trouble. Someof his escapades he has described to his friend and assistant, WilliamH. Meadowcroft.
"'About every night we could hear the soldiers stationed at FortGratiot. One would call out: "Corporal of Guard Number One!" This wasrepeated from one sentry to another till it reached the barracks and"No. 1" came out to see what was wanted. The Dutch boy (who used to helpme with the papers) and I thought we would try our hand in militarymatters.
"'So one dark night I called, "Corporal of the Guard Number One!" Thesecond sentry, thinking it had come from the man stationed at the end,repeated this, and the words went down the line as usual. This reachedCorporal Number One, and brought him back to our end only to find outthat he had been tricked by someone.
"'We did this three times, but on the third night they were watching.They caught the Dutch boy and locked him up in the fort. Severalsoldiers chased me home. I ran down cellar where there were two barrelsof potatoes and a third which was almost empty. I dumped the contents ofthree barrels into two, sat down, pulled the empty barrel over my head,bottom upwards. The soldiers woke my father, and they all came huntingfor me with lanterns and candles.
"'The corporal was perfectly sure I had come down cellar. He couldn'tsee how I had got away, and asked father if there wasn't a secret placefor me to hide in the cellar. When father said "No," he exclaimed,"Well, that's very strange!"
"'You can understand how glad I was when they left, for I was in acramped position, and as there had been rotten potatoes in that barrel,I was beginning to feel sick.
"'The next morning father found me in bed and gave me a good switchingon my legs--the only whipping I ever received from him, though motherkept behind the old clock a switch which had the bark well worn off! Mymother's ideas differed somewhat from mine, most of all when I mussed upthe house with my experiments.
"'The Dutch boy was released the next morning.'
"Another escapade described by Edison was pulled off on the Canada sideof the St. Clair, in Port Sarnia, opposite Port Huron.
"'In 1860 the Prince of Wales (afterward King Edward) visited Canada.Nearly every lad in Port Huron, including myself, went over to Sarnia tosee the celebration. The town was profusely draped in flags--there werearches over some streets--and carpets were laid on the crossings for theprince to walk on.
"'A stand was built where the prince was to be received by the mayor.Seeing all these arrangements raised my idea of the prince very high.But when he finally came I mistook the Duke of Newcastle for AlbertEdward. The duke was a very fine-looking man. When I discovered mymistake--the Prince of Wales being a mere stripling--I was sodis
appointed that I couldn't help mentioning the fact. Then several ofus American boys expressed our belief that a prince wasn't much afterall! One boy got well whipped for this and there was a free-for-allfight. The Canucks attacked the Yankee boys and, as they greatlyoutnumbered us, we were all badly licked and I got a black eye. Thisalways prejudiced me against that kind of ceremonial and folly.'"