don't quit your railroad job

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Page 1: Don't Quit Your Railroad Job

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DON’T QUIT YOUR RAILROAD JOB

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DON’T QUIT YOUR RAILROAD JOB 

 byDavid Arthur Walters 

I was a member of the Brotherhood of Railway Clerks when I was a young man in Chicago. I

worked in the Freight Claims Department of the Legal Division of the Chicago, Milwaukee, St.

Paul and Pacific Railroad, otherwise known as the Milwaukee Road, from July 1966 to June

1968.

Our main lunch topic was the number of years until retirement and how much was vested in

one's retirement fund. Several years after I left the Road, a co-worker sent me a detailed letter on

that very subject. And to this day I prize my letter of recommendation:

"Enclosed is copy of letter of recommendation you had misplaced. Good to hear 

from you and particularly your choice of residence. Hawaii would seem to be a

great deal better choice than either Chicago or New York. We who are 'confined'

to our railroad careers would have little to do in Hawaii. Let us hear from you

further." L.E. Ruger, Assistant General Manager Freight Adjustment, June 25,

1975

"Mr. D.A. Walters has been employed in my office for two (2) years. He has proven to be a conscientious and capable employee and has good aptitude for 

learning and effecting office procedure. His employment covered various

 positions which developed into his being one of our claims investigating staff."

Ken French, General Freight Claim Agent, July 16. 1968

I started at the bottom of the totem pole, in the mailroom as the mail clerk. Then the file clerk 

quit so I got his job. I made a big impression on the office aristocracy—the Senior Adjusters and 

the Chief Clerk—when I came up with a better way of organizing the current claim files: taking

them off their edges and stacking them flat in cubicles. Soon after that I was moved to my own

desk in the main room, where I manually added long columns of figures on freight claims. Wedid not have adding machines. My job was to add them from the bottom up after the guy on the

right added them from the top down, and we traded places every week.

I gradually climbed the career ladder and become a junior freight claims adjustor. The pay was

so low I barely remember it. The pay scale for all workers was posted on the wall by the water 

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cooler. My pay was enough to pay rent and to buy food with, plus a few bucks for a movie or 

 ball game. Married people got bonuses for having babies.

I goofed up badly when I was working as a file clerk, but I was not fired. A fellow clerk and I

snuck out of the building to a Cubs game a few blocks away. Unfortunately, the Chief Clerk saw

us on TV. There we were, in the stands, cheering Ron Santo's home run and drinking beer whenwe should have been filing claim folders in the basement archives.

At a quarter to five every day, a steward came around with a cart of hot towels. We ritually

wiped our faces and hands. Then all eyes were on the second hand of the large clock up front.

The Chief Clerk donned his hat and abandoned ship, at one minute to five. Then the buzzer 

 buzzed loudly, and off we went. Some went down the front elevator; the younger ones ran down

the back stairs. To this very day, I still dream of running down the five flights of stairs. I also

dream of the "Boston coffee" I liked to drink at the diner across the street.

The management was very considerate. For example, we were ordered to go home early on thedays the blacks were rioting, and we were paid for that time off.

I loved working for the Milwaukee Road, so much so that I trudged to work during the big

 blizzard while Mayor Daly's cops were shooting at looters to kill. The office was closed when I

got there, two hours after I had started out. Boy, was I ever a dumb kid with a “Midwestern work 

ethic.”

The Milwaukee Road was more than fair with me. I should have stuck around. Maybe I would 

 be drawing that pension we talked about, instead of facing death on a park bench and writing

articles at the public library.

Maybe this will be a lesson to fools like me. Don't quit your railroad job. I knew better, but I

acted unwisely anyway. On the other hand, I might have done the right thing. The Milwaukee

Road went bankrupt. I don’t know what happened to the pension money, and that is the main

thing.

Honolulu 2001