Boyhood At Port Huron, Michigan - 7

Boyhood At Port Huron, Michigan - 7

Saddened but not wholly discouraged, Edison soon reconstituted his laboratory and

printing-office at home, although on the part of the family there was some fear and

objection after this episode, on the score of fire. But Edison promised not to bring in

anything of a dangerous nature. He did not cease the publication of the Weekly Herald.

On the contrary, he prospered in both his enterprises until persuaded by the "printer's

devil" in the office of the Port Huron Commercial to change the character of his journal,

enlarge it, and issue it under the name of Paul Pry, a happy designation for this or kindred

ventures in the domain of society journalism. No copies of Paul Pry can now be found,

but it is known that its style was distinctly personal, that gossip was its specialty, and that

no small offence was given to the people whose peculiarities or peccadilloes were

discussed in a frank and breezy style by the two boys. In one instance the resentment of

the victim of such unsought publicity was so intense he laid hands on Edison and pitched

the startled young editor into the St. Clair River. The name of this violator of the freedom

of the press was thereafter excluded studiously from the columns of Paul Pry, and the

incident may have been one of those which soon caused the abandonment of the paper.

Edison had great zest in this work, and but for the strong influences in other directions

would probably have continued in the newspaper field, in which he was, beyond

question, the youngest publisher and editor of the day.

Before leaving this period of his career, it is to be noted that it gave Edison many

favorable opportunities. In Detroit he could spend frequent hours in the public library,

and it is matter of record that he began his liberal acquaintance with its contents by

grappling bravely with a certain section and trying to read it through consecutively, shelf

by shelf, regardless of subject. In a way this is curiously suggestive of the earnest,

energetic method of "frontal attack" with which the inventor has since addressed himself

to so many problems in the arts and sciences.

The Grand Trunk Railroad machine-shops at Port Huron were a great attraction to the

boy, who appears to have spent a good deal of his time there. He who was to have much

to do with the evolution of the modern electric locomotive was fascinated by the

mechanism of the steam locomotive; and whenever he could get the chance Edison rode

in the cab with the engineer of his train. He became thoroughly familiar with the

intricacies of fire-box, boiler, valves, levers, and gears, and liked nothing better than to

handle the locomotive himself during the run. On one trip, when the engineer lay asleep

while his eager substitute piloted the train, the boiler "primed," and a deluge

overwhelmed the young driver, who stuck to his post till the run and the ordeal were

ended. Possibly this helped to spoil a locomotive engineer, but went to make a great

master of the new motive power. "Steam is half an Englishman," said Emerson. The

temptation is strong to say that workaday electricity is half an American. Edison's own

account of the incident is very laughable: "The engine was one of a number leased to the

Grand Trunk by the Chicago, Burlington & Quincy. It had bright brass bands all over, the

woodwork beautifully painted, and everything highly polished, which was the custom up

to the time old Commodore Vanderbilt stopped it on his roads. After running about

fifteen miles the fireman couldn't keep his eyes open (this event followed an all-night

dance of the trainmen's fraternal organization), and he agreed to permit me to run the

engine. I took charge, reducing the speed to about twelve miles an hour, and brought the

train of seven cars to her destination at the Grand Trunk junction safely. But something

occurred which was very much out of the ordinary. I was very much worried about the

water, and I knew that if it got low the boiler was likely to explode. I hadn't gone twenty

miles before black damp mud blew out of the stack and covered every part of the engine,

including myself. I was about to awaken the fireman to find out the cause of this when it

stopped. Then I approached a station where the fireman always went out to the

cowcatcher, opened the oil-cup on the steam- chest, and poured oil in. I started to carry

out the procedure when, upon opening the oil-cup, the steam rushed out with a

tremendous noise, nearly knocking me off the engine. I succeeded in closing the oil-cup

and got back in the cab, and made up my mind that she would pull through without oil. I

learned afterward that the engineer always shut off steam when the fireman went out to

oil. This point I failed to notice. My powers of observation were very much improved

after this occurrence. Just before I reached the junction another outpour of black mud

occurred, and the whole engine was a sight--so much so that when I pulled into the yard

everybody turned to see it, laughing immoderately. I found the reason of the mud was

that I carried so much water it passed over into the stack, and this washed out all the

accumulated soot."