To Slip the Surly Bonds

The St. Louis Hat Company

St. Louis, Missouri

Winter, 1883

Eunice stepped aside and Nahum entered the room. The man behind the desk was large and beefy looking. The window behind him looked out into the artificial canyon of the street below. Two matching craftsman style chairs made of varnished pine stood in front of the desk. A brass light fixture hung from the ceiling, bathing the room in a steady glow of electric light.

Jonas gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk. “Mr. Goddard,” he said, “please have a seat.”

The straight-backed chair Nahum chose was stiff and slightly uncomfortable. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

Jonas shrugged his broad shoulders. “Well, I was intrigued by your letter. You really believe that your machine is that much better than the Gunderson Automatic?”

“I do, but then, I designed it. Allow me to demonstrate.” Nahum bent over and opened his salesmen’s case. The shiny brass locks flipped back with a metallic clink. Amid Jonas’s crowded desk, scattered with fountain pens, ink bottles, letters and other papers, Nahum placed an intricately detailed miniature of his machine and a company pamphlet beside it on the desk. Nahum spoke uninterrupted for half an hour systematically taking Jonas through the various features and improvements that the Goddard Patented Automatic Cutter had made over pre-existing cutting machines.

Jonas rubbed his chin thoughtfully as Nahum spoke. At several points, he interrupted to ask questions. “We are investigating the possibility of electrifying our factory. Does your machine anticipate that?”

Nahum nodded. “It does. Electricity is unquestionably the future. The machine presented here is steam-powered, but it has been designed for easy conversion to electrification.” Jonas was silent for a minute or two, considering this.

“How difficult is the process of conversion?” asked Jonas.

Nahum shook his head. “It’s not a difficult process.” He pointed at the model. “The cutting blades are belt driven. To convert the machine from steam to electricity, all you have to do is remove the steam valve and install an electric motor and two mounting brackets.”

“I see,” replied Jonas. He continued to study the model. “And what do you anticipate the cost of installation to be?”

Nahum thought for a second or two, mentally running the numbers. “That depends, how many machines do you need?”

Jonas shuffled through the various papers scattered across his desk. Eventually he found the report he was looking for. He rifled through the pages before handing it to Nahum, who took it and rapidly scanned the text.

Three hundred machines, thought Nahum. He sought out the calculations in his mind, running over them to ensure he was correct. “Including shipping and delivery, three hundred cutting machines will cost approximately eighty-thousand dollars.”

“Mmmmm. . .I see,” replied Jonas, slightly absently. He quickly scribbled down Nahum’s figures. Jonas paused momentarily, studying the numbers that Nahum had given him. “How long do you expect it take for us to receive our order?”

He had no answer for this. The modifications to the factory floor and the training of the men were incomplete. “Unfortunately I can’t give you good answer to that question yet.”

“And why not?”

“We are in the process of ironing out some issues with the factory, and have temporarily stopped production.”

“To what do you owe this delay?” He sounded bothered by the thought of waiting. “If we are to do business together, we must have these machines straight away.”

Nahum nodded. “We know that. We have several other customers who are also waiting for orders. We are doing everything in our power to rectify our problems and get back into production.”

Jonas nodded in understanding. “I hope so,” he replied. “Unfortunately I cannot give you an order today, but based on what I have seen and heard, it sounds as if your machine is exactly what we need.” He stood up, signalling that the meeting was over. Nahum stood up and shook Jonas’ hand. “Thank you for your time,” he said, “I’m sorry that we couldn’t come to a deal.”

Jonas nodded. “Yes, so am I,” he said. “I hope you will keep me appraised of your status. I will give your company my fullest support when I present my recommendation to the board of directors.” He shook Nahum’s hand again. “Good luck.”

Boston, Massachusetts

March, 1883

The sun cast a bright square of light in the middle of the floor in the nursery of the house on Forest Street. Colourful sailing ships covered the walls. Their sails strained under the gust of an invisible breeze and dolphins frolicked happily in the waves beneath. A crib stood on one wall and a changing table stood on the other with a low table bearing a pitcher and basin beside it. At the end other end of the room was a sealed container for soiled diapers. Next to the door was a bookcase ladened with books and toys and a rocking chair stood in a corner.

In the crib, Robert Goddard slept peacefully. He lay flat on his back, arms and legs stretched out. His breathing was slow and even. A mobile of stars and planets hung over the crib, spinning placidly in the weak winter sunlight. The nursery door opened and Fannie entered the room. She padded quietly across the room, the large rug in the middle of the room muffling the sound of her shoes on the floor. Robert stirred. He opened his dark brown eyes and looked up at his mother. A few tufts of wispy hair clung to the top of his otherwise bald head. He raised his arms in anticipation of being picked up.

Fannie bent over and cooed at him. Robert giggled a little, and some spittle ran down his chin from the corner of his mouth. Fannie’s nose wrinkled. A pungent smell wafted up from the crib. Robert needed to be changed. She bent over to pick him up and take him over to the changing table. The nursery door opened and Muriel entered.

“Oh, there’s no need for you to bother with that, ma’am,” she said. “I can look after the baby.”

Fannie shook her head. “No, thank you, Muriel. I can manage, but you can go down to the kitchen and ask Cook to prepare a bottle for Robert.”

“Yes ma’am.” Muriel nodded and went out, shutting the door gently behind her. Robert cooed a little as Fannie folded him into her arms. She straightened up and held Robert to her breast. She walked over to the changing table and laid Robert flat. She opened a drawer, pulled out a clean cloth cloth diaper and laid it next to her son. Next, she produced a chamber pot and and a clean wipe made of soft cotton. She proceeded to undress her son, taking off his pyjamas and setting them aside in a neat pile. Robert was clad in only a diaper, which was held together with a large safety pin. It was darkly stained and bulging. She unpinned his diaper and emptied the contents into the chamber pot, which she covered with a metal lid. Next she took the soiled diaper and deposited it into the container and the other end of the changing table. She noted that it was almost full and made a mental note to have Muriel empty it and have the bag full of used diapers sent out to be laundered. She picked Robert up by his ankles, wiped his backside and deposited the now soiled cloth in the container with the diaper.

Still holding Robert by his ankles, Fannie dusted a fine cloud of soft, white talcum powder onto his backside, then laid him down on the clean diaper and deftly folded it about his waist, She secured it in place with the safety pin. She was just finishing fastening his diaper when the nursery door opened again.Muriel entered the room. She was holding a bottle full of milk, which was wrapped in a towel. Cook had warmed it up for her and it was still very warm.

“I have his bottle, ma’am,” she said. “Would you like me to feed him?”

Fannie cradled Robert in the crook of her arm and shook her head. “No thank you, Muriel,” she said. Robert’s gaze shifted from his mother to the bottle at once, which he seemed to be eyeing intently. He held out his hands for the bottle, as if in eager supplication. Fannie took the warm bottle from Muriel’s hand. “Thank you,” she said and started to walk across the room to the rocking chair in the corner.

“Do you require anything else ma’am?”asked Muriel.

“Yes,” replied Fannie, nodding to the chamber pot and sealed container of used diapers. “That needs to be emptied and when you’re done with that, you can put the container outside to be collected.” She paused momentarily, as if searching her memory, then said, “I think that will be all for now.”

Muriel nodded her understanding and picked the chamber pot. She tucked it under her arm, and opening the nursery door with her other, went out of the room. The door shut behind her with a snap. Fannie crossed the nursery in a couple of quick strides and sat down in the rocking chair. She put the bottle in Robert’s mouth and he sucked greedily at it. With the smallest push of her toe, she set the rocking chair into motion and began rocking back and forth. Robert placed his small hands firmly on the bottle, as he gulped down its contents. He drank about half of it and when he was done, Fannie took it from him.

She took him and held him upright, resting his feet gently on her thigh and folding one hand around his backside. Fannie leaned Robert against her shoulder. She began to gently pat him on the back. She did this repeatedly for several minutes with a gentle tapping of her palms between his shoulder blades. Eventually he opened his mouth uttered a guttural sound as he burped. He spit up a little milk and some saliva onto Fannie’s shirtwaist. Robert was sudden drowsy again. His eyelids were heavy and half closed. Fannie cradled him in the crook of arm and he stuck his thumb in his mouth. He began to suck on it gently. Careful not to disturb him, Fannie stood up from the rocking chair. She walked over the changing table, bent over and pulled open a drawer. She reached inside and pulled out a clean cloth. Fannie closed the drawer and straightened up again. With the towel on one arm and her son in the other, she went back over to the rocking chair and sat down again. Fannie cleaned the baby spit off of her clothes and set the used towel aside. She resumed rocking back and forth. With a stomach full of warm milk, Robert’s eyelids soon became heavy. He sucked gently on his thumb as he gradually fell asleep. Fannie cooed at him and sang softly for awhile. She looked down at her son. He was snoring softly and his breathing was gently and even. Taking care not to wake him, Fannie got up and padded across the room to Robert’s crib. She carefully bent over and laid him in it. He stirred and snuffled slightly but didn’t wake. She bent over and gently kissed him, then straightened up, turned and quietly went out of the room.