To Slip the Surly Bonds

Boston, Massachusetts,

March, 1883

The train pulled into the train station with a belch of steam and the clanging of its bell just before midnight. Nahum drew back the curtain and looked out the window of his compartment. The gas lamps cast a ruddy orange glow over a deserted train shed. There was a knock on the compartment door. Nahum turned away from the window at the sudden sound. “Yes?”

A porter stood framed in the doorway. “I believe this your stop, Mr. Goddard.”

“Oh, yes, thank you.” He bent over and picked up his travel case with one hand and pressed a dollar into the man’s hand with the other one. The porter nodded his thanks and Nahum exited his compartment, turned and walked toward the far end of the car, where he joined a little knot of people in the vestibule. Nahum swayed slightly as the train came to a stop. The door opened and people filed down on to the platform.

Nahum followed them off the train, across the deserted platform and into the station. The passengers scattered in half a dozen directions as soon as they were through the doors. Nahum crossed the empty ticket hall, heading for the station’s main entrance. He found a cab waiting under the portico outside. A light snow drifted gently down from overhead. The cabbie’s horse snorted and flicked its ears at the sound of the doors opening. “Where to?” The driver asked.

“Sixty-five Forrest St,” replied Nahum.

The cabbie nodded his understanding. “Get in.”

Nahum pulled open the door and climbed into the cab. He deposited his travel case on the floor and shut the door behind him. The cab lurched as it rumbled into motion. The streets were mostly deserted, save for the occasional delivery wagon as they made their way through Boston’s winding streets toward North Roxbury. Once they arrived, Nahum handed handed the cabbie his fare and the man waved him off. The horse whinnied, flicked its ears and trotted into motion. The cab rumbled off into the night.

Nahum picked up his case and turned to the house. A light was on in the upper right corner. That’s Robert’s nursery, he thought. I hope everything’s alright. He crossed the sidewalk and pushed open the gate that separated the front walk from the public road. After fumbling with his keys for a moment or two, Nahum pushed the door open and stepped inside. The foyer was dark, the only light came from the faint glow of the gas streetlamp outside. The sound of a door opening and closing echoed faintly from somewhere upstairs. Nahum slipped off his shoes and left them in a small puddle of melted snow on the mat by the front door. The floor was cool beneath his stockings.

Nahum mounted the stairs and arrived at the second-floor landing. He walked past his and Fannie’s room, past the bathroom, and stopped at the door on the far side of the linen closet. A chink of light spilled out under the door and into the hall. Nahum put his hand on the doorknob and put his ear to the door. He thought he heard the sound of low, muffled voices coming from the other side. One of them sounded like Fannie’s voice, but he couldn’t be certain. They were too low to catch what they were saying.

The knob rattled slightly as Nahum turned it. The low light of an oil lamp on the dresser made the room feel dim and closed. Robert was cradled in Fannie’s arms. She had been singing in a low, soft voice gently rocking him. She stopped as the door opened. “Nahum,” she said as he entered the room. “You’re late.” There was only a slight hint of reproachment in her voice.

He stepped into the room and shut the door softly behind him. “I know, dear. I ran into a delay changing trains in Albany. I would have sent word, but the telegraph office was closed.” He bent over and kissed her on the cheek. Robert stirred slightly in Fannie’s arms. His eyes, half closed, opened wider at being disturbed. He looked up at his father and babbled.

Nahum bent down and kissed Robert on the forehead. “Hello, my son.” He smiled at Robert, who smiled back, “I trust you’ve been good for your mother while I’ve been gone?”

“He’s been perfect.”

Nahum let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I saw the light on when I got out of the cab. Is everything alright?”

Fannie nodded. “Oh yes, Nahum, everything’s fine. Robert has just been a little colicky. It’s nothing you need concern yourself with.”

“Well, certainly you didn’t need to sit up with him. You could have had Muriel do that. That’s what she’s paid for isn’t it?”

“She stayed for awhile,” Fannie replied. “I finally sent her home.” She glanced down at Robert, whose eyes were nearly closed. “I had only just gotten him to sleep when you walked through the door.”

Nahum had the good grace to be embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I had no idea-,” he trailed off, thinking for a moment, then he looked to his wife as if suddenly remembering something. He turned back toward his travel case, which he had left by the door. “I just remembered.” He placed the case on the changing table and opened it. “I had a bit of extra time in Pittsburgh,” he said, rummaging through the bag. “Unfortunately, one of my appointments canceled at the last minute, so I had some free time, and-,” Nahum stopped talking as he found what he had been looking for. He extracted two items from the travel case and closed the lid. He turned to Fannie. In his hands he held a stuffed teddy bear and a rattle, made of stamped tin in the shape of a laughing clown. “I thought Robert might like these.” He waved the rattle in front of Robert’s eyes. The beads inside tinkled gently. Robert perked up and reached for the toy. His right closed around the handle and Nahum let go of it. Robert held his prize close.

For a second or two, Fannie looked as if she wanted to ask what Nahum’s gifts for Robert had cost. They didn’t really need anything and money was tight with the factory not running a full capacity, but she set the thought aside, and said, “that was very thoughtful.” Fannie suddenly felt exhausted. “Why don’t you put that in his crib,” she said nodding toward the stuffed bear.

Nahum crossed the room and deposited the teddy bear into Robert’s crib. Then he took Robert from Fannie’s arms. The baby cooed as Nahum cradled him, the rattle tinkling slightly as Nahum rocked him back and forth. He paused briefly to kiss Robert on the forehead when he placed him back in his crib. Fannie did the same. Nahum stepped through the door and out into the hallway. Fannie followed him, closing the door softly behind her.

Stubbs and Goddard General Manufacturers

Roxbury, Massachusetts

Nahum was back at his desk a few days later. As he walked through the factory, he found that the production floor was even more chaotic than usual. The contractors had been busy, Nahum realized. Nahum’s business trip had lasted for less than ten days. During that time, he had visited six different millinery manufacturers, in addition to the stop he had made in St. Louis. Nahum judged his trip to have been mostly successful. He had received orders in Chicago, Indianapolis, and Phoenix, and promises of orders in the future from the companies he had visited, in St. Louis, Seattle and Des Moines.

Nahum went into the factory and out of the cold. It had snowed the night before and surrounding buildings, normally covered in a layer of grimy soot, looked unusually bright and pristine in the morning sun. Nahum wound his way through the factory workers and contractors as they bustled around in the controlled chaos. As he crossed the factory floor, Nahum noticed that several stamping machines had been partially disassembled. The walls echoed with the clamour of tools and the babble of voices. The hiss of steam, the metallic clatter of piping being wrenched loose and the blue language of swearing workmen assaulted his ears. He threaded his way through the controlled chaos upstairs to his office, the clatter of his footsteps lost amidst the noise.He had barely taken five steps down the hall toward his office, when a door opened and a head popped out. It was Simeon.

“Nahum,” he said brightly, “good, you’re here. Come into my office.” Simeon indicated his open door with a jerk of his head. “I received your telegrams, but I want to hear it from your own mouth.” Nahum followed Simeon into his office. Simeon gestured to the two straight backed chairs in front of his desk. Nahum sat down and waited while Simeon poured two cups of coffee from the coffee pot that sat in its usual place on top of the stove in the corner.

“So,” Simeon began after handing Nahum a warm tin cup of cup, “tell me how your trip went,”said Simeon, nursing his own cup of coffee.

Nahum shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. We have three confirmed orders and intentions to order from three more once we’ve finished ironing out our problems.” Nahum paused. “How‘s that coming, by the way.”

It was Simeon’s turn to shrug. “We’re making progress. We’ve had a few set backs, but nothing we haven’t been able to handle.” Simeon explained that they had had to reject several crates of parts on Elias’s recommendation. They had received a shipment of pipe fittings, however, upon opening the crate, they discovered a number of the fittings had been cracked. As they were meant for the high pressure steam lines which were to be connected to the stamping machines, they had to be returned to the manufacturer.

“Any idea when the new parts will arrive?” asked Nahum.

“Hopefully soon, but we only sent the shipment back to the manufacturer the day before yesterday.”

Nahum sat for a moment in thoughtful silence. He figured it would take a week, possibly two, to ship the defective parts back to the manufacturer in Tucson. His face pulled into a frown.

Simeon seemed to have noticed, because he reached across the desk and took the coffee cup out of Nahum’s hands, pouring him fresh cup. He handed it back to Nahum, who accepted it gratefully, the hot coffee slid down his throat and into his stomach, warming him from the inside out.

“When do you anticipate that we will receive our replacement parts?” Nahum asked after another sip of his coffee.

“I would estimate that it will take at least a week.”

“How is this going to affect our ability to fill orders?” asked Nahum. He took out his notebook and pencil his pocket. Flipping to a to a blank page, he scribbled down everything Simeon had told him so far.

“I don’t think it will affect us too badly,” replied Simeon. “The rest of the changes we need to make to the factory are proceeding as planned. Barring something unforeseen, I don’t believe we’ll have too many issues.”

Nahum nodded absently. He stood and Simeon stood up with him. “Well, it sounds like things appear to be in hand,” he said.

Simeon nodded in agreement. “Mostly.”

Nahum turned to leave. “I had best attend to my desk.” There was no doubt a pile of unread letters and telegrams waiting for him on his desk. He crossed to the door in a couple of strides and pulled it open. Toby stood his hand lifted, as though he had been about to knock, on the other side of the door.

“Good morning, Mr. Goddard,” he said brightly.

“Good morning Toby, what brings you here?” replied Nahum.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

Simeon shook his head. “No, Toby, we were just finishing. Is there something I can help you with?”

Toby brandished a fist full of paper. “I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Goddard, but I took the liberty of collecting your mail while you were away.”

“Oh,” replied Nahum, “thank you. I’ll take those.” Nahum held out his hand, and Toby handed him the envelopes. Nahum rifled through them as he walked down the hall to his office. The office was dark and slightly chilly. The gas had been turned off and the stove fire in the corner had not been relit in his absence. He set about relighting everything then went to his desk, rubbing his hands together to ward off the chill until the stove had a chance to warm the place up.

Nahum sorted through the letters and telegrams that Toby had collected for him while he was away. A letter from the Sagamore Millinery Company caught his eye. Nahum slit open the envelope with a letter opener and pulled the paper from the envelope. He frowned slightly upon reading the contents. The Sagamore Millinery Company wanted an order of a hundred and fifty machines immediately. He would have to write back to them and tell them that it would be some time before the company could fulfil any orders. They would probably lose the business, which was unfortunate. Such a significant order would go a long way to clearing their loans with the bank.

Nahum set the letter aside and picked up a telegram. It was from the Seattle Haberdashers’ Society. Nahum quietly perused the telegram and noticed an envelope with the same Seattle address underneath. He picked it up, slit open the envelope and pulled out a short letter and pamphlet. He quickly read through them both. The members of the Seattle Haberdashers’ Society wanted him to come to the west coast and talk about his machine. Nahum, frowned to himself. It was tempting. Thus far, his meetings had all been one on one. The prospect of talking to a roomful of people was tempting, but his most recent business trip had been expensive and it would still be some time before the factory would be up and running. Nahum set it aside. He would have to talk to Simeon and Chester about the possibility of another business trip.

He spent the rest of the morning sorting through and responding to his unanswered mail. In addition to the letter from the Sagamore Millinery Company and the Seattle Haberdashers’ Society telegram, there were six others. Of the six, three were consequential. The first was from Stetson, confirming an order of two hundred machines. Well, that’s something, thought Nahum. Seventy-five cutting machines wouldn’t wholly pay down their loans with the bank, but it would definitely help. Nahum put the letter back in its envelope and placed it on his desk next to the letters from the Sagamore Millinery Company and the Seattle Haberdashers’ Society. He picked up a third letter. The address was from San Francisco Haberdashers Incorporated. Nahum felt a rush of excitement.

San Francisco Haberdashers Inc was the largest producer of hats on the west coast. Their board of directors had earmarked considerable money for upgrading their equipment and wanted to see a demonstration. He quickly read through the letter again and frowned thoughtfully. Could they manage a demonstration? San Francisco Haberdashers owned three factories. If we can land this contract-thought Nahum-we can pay down all of our debts in a single stroke and we might even turn a profit. He would have to talk Simeon, Chester and Elias to discuss the details.

Nahum’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a knock at his office door. “Come in,” he said. The door opened and Nahum looked up to find Toby framed in the doorway. “Something I can help you with?”

For half a second, Toby looked as if he had been caught in the lights of an oncoming train. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, Mr. Goddard,” replied Toby, gabbling slightly, “Mr. Prendergast and Mr. Tabor would like you to come downstairs to the factory floor right away.”

Nahum nodded and got up. He stepped out from behind his desk, crossed the room in a couple of strides and stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him with a snap. The clatter of his footsteps on the metal staircase was lost in the cacophony of noise echoing off the walls.

Nahum paused momentarily upon reaching the bottom of the staircase. Workmen in coveralls and leather aprons were bustling in every direction. Torrents of sparks flew from spinning lathes and the air was filled with shouts and curses. Nahum spotted a group of people on the far side of the factory and made his way over to them, threading his way through the maze until he arrived at the edge of the crowd.

The crowd of workmen parted at his approach and he made his way into the centre. Horace Tabor and Elias Prendergast were standing in the middle of circle of people. The plans for the warehouse floor were spread across the surface of a large work table

“What seems to be the problem?” he asked Elias and Horace

Elias Prendergast was the factory foreman. He turned to face Nahum. “We’ve run into a problem we hadn’t anticipated,” he said. He gestured to the large stamping machines that towered over everything else in the factory. They were thirty feet tall and consisted of a heavy-looking hammer suspended in a vertical frame. At the bottom of the hammer was a void space where a sturdy metal die would sit. High-pressure steam was injected into a piston at the top, which forced the head of the hammer down at a high velocity onto the die, or at least that’s how it was supposed to work.

Through a gap in the circle of workmen surrounding Elias and Horace, Nahum noticed that the other stamping machines were lying disassembled and in pieces on the floor. “What kind of problem?”

“Watch.” Elias turned and signalled one of the factory workers. He was standing at the base of the one functioning stamping machine. He signalled to a work an behind him and the man pulled down on a lever. The head of the hammer rose thirty feet into the air and stopped, hovering in anticipation over the anvil at the bottom. It stayed there for only a moment or two before the braking mechanism was released, and it dropped rapidly back down on to the anvil, which it struck with a deep BONG! But even before it hit, Nahum could tell that something was wrong.

Elias leaned over and half shouted in Nahum’s ear. “Do you see the problem?”

Nahum thought so, but he need to be sure. “Have him do it again.”

Elias nodded and waved to the workman, who nodded in return and pulled down on the lever again. As before, the hammer dropped rapidly and hit the anvil with a sound like a ringing bell. This time, Nahum was almost certain, but he had them repeat the operation again. Yes, he thought, as the hammer head fell for the third time. There’s definitely a problem here. The hammer isn’t striking with enough force. He turned to Elias and Horace. “How much pressure are you getting at the top of the piston before you drop the hammer?”

Horace fished in the pockets of his coveralls and pulled out a small notepad. He began flipping through the pages until he found the one he wanted. “Eight hundred PSI.”

Nahum was shaking his head even before Horace had finished. He ran some quick mental calculations. Elias and Horace traded a look. They had eight stamping machines shipped from Brooks and Son Iron Mongers in Pittsburg. Each machine required fifteen hundred pound of pressure to operate at the needed capacity that Nahum and Simeon had calculated they would need to fill the orders they expected to have. Nahum frowned thoughtfully. They had estimated that they would need a total of twelve thousand pounds of steam pressure at any given time to run all eight stamping machines at full capacity. The building’s boiler was more than capable of putting out that kind of pressure. Nahum thought for several seconds, working over the problem in his mind.

He examined it from every possible angle and came to only one conclusion. Nahum cast his gaze upward at the tangle of pipes overhead. “Have you checked for steam leaks?”

Elias and Horace both shook their heads. “No,” replied Horace, “we can not find any faults with this machine, or the component parts of any of the others that we have examined.” He gestured to the various parts and open packing crates scattered around the general vicinity.

“But we wanted a second opinion,” finished Elias.

Nahum nodded thoughtfully in response. Checking for a steam leak was a time consuming but straight forward process. All of the machinery in the factory ran on the steam produced by the factory’s two stationary boilers. Between them they produced fifty thousand pounds of pressure per square inch. The steam from the boilers was injected into a stationary reciprocating engine, which was connected to an elaborate series of belts, which turned all of the machinery. The waste steam from the reciprocating engine was intended to be used to drive the eight stamping machines. “Are both boilers lit?” Nahum asked.

Elias shook his head. The factory had two boilers, but usually, one was more than sufficient for the factory’s needs.

Nahum turned to Elias and Horace. “Come with me.” Nahum turned started and walking. Elias and Horace fell in behind him. The three men threaded their way through the factory toward the back. They passed under the managers’ offices and turned down a side corridor. Nahum found himself in another warren of rooms and offices. There was a noticeable difference between these and the ones up stairs. The offices just off the factory floor had a stark, grimy, utilitarian feel. The largest office was Elias’s. It was only about two thirds the size of Nahum’s. A slightly battered looking oil lamp stood on the corner of a roll top desk. Its finish was scratched and discoloured. The varnish was peeling from the wood in places. The floor was covered in a slightly threadbare rug and an ancient looking Franklin stove stood in one corner.

They kept walking past Elias’s office and down the narrow hallway. Most of the doors they passed were closed. One or two were open and led into small, cramped offices. Several of Chester’s accounting clerks sat on wooden stools laboriously entering figures into ledger books. Nahum, Elias and Horace reached the end of the hall and came to a slightly shabby metal door. A muffled din and the smell of coal soot and hot lubricant seeped from under the door. Nahum opened the door and the muffled din became a defeating roar. They stepped into the engine room of the warehouse and shut the door.

The two horizontal beam engines filled the room. They were twenty feet long and had been barged down the Charles River from Massington and Co Iron Foundry in Hopkinton. Jets of steam hissed loudly from their pressure relief valves and their rocker arms see-sawed slowly back and forth. Their large flywheels, each around twenty feet in diameter turned lazily as the two pistons steadily stroked in and out with a loud chuffing noise like a locomotive. Three men were moving around the two steam engines. They were all dressed in greasy blue coveralls.

Elias cupped his hands to his mouth. “HUB!” he shouted. An older man, in his late forties gone slightly to seed, turned at the sound of his name. Elias had to shout to be heard. “HUB!” He called again.

The heavy set man turned at the sound of his name. He was bald and had a handlebar moustache. He gestured to one of the greasers, who hurried over at once and handed the man the long spouted oil can in his hand. The greaser took it and went off to continue oiling the large steam engine. Hub Hoxy extricated himself from the corner behind where the steam engine’s large flywheel turned slowly. He walked down the aisle between the two steam engines and Nahum. Elias and Horace met him in the middle.

“Elias,” he said, “this must be important. You don’t usually come in here.”

“We have a pressure problem,” replied Nahum. “We don’t have enough steam pressure to run the stamping machines at the rate we need to in order make our production targets.”

“Have you noticed any problems?” asked Elias.

Hub shook his head and the other three men exchanged thoughtful frowns. Hub’s assertion that operations in the engine house were normal was perplexing and not what they wanted to hear. “Nevertheless,” replied Elias, “we’d like to look at the boilers.”

Hub shrugged, turned and started walking. He gestured with a wave of his arm, “C’mon,” he said.