Western Union

When I was seventeen, a letter was received from Uncle George saying that he had a job as messenger for the Western Union that would be open in just a few days.  The job paid $15 per month plus tips.  I was ecstatic!  Uncle George was the manager, and I thought this was a magnificent offer.  To me, that was the greatest opportunity any boy ever had, and I wasn't about to pass it up.  In addition to the salary, I was to have the opportunity of attending Uncle George's telegraph school during the evening.  I lost no time in getting word to him that I would be most happy to accept his generous offer.

I regretted having to leave the folks, but this offer just couldn't be passed up.  Mama Neave assured me that she would manage alright without me, and I was sure that she would.  The next day I was on my way.

It hadn't occurred to me that it would be necessary to have a place to stay when I arrived in Arkansas, but Uncle George very generously offered me a room with meals for $15 per month.  That was exactly the amount of my salary, but it seemed to me that the tips would be more than enough to meet my needs.

I lived with Uncle George in a third floor room without heat, but I did have an electric ceiling light, the first I had ever seen, and I was walking on air.  I was so thrilled to have a bulb hanging from the ceiling of my room.

When payday came, there were no financial worries to cope with.  The salary was exactly the same as my room rent.  Uncle George, being in charge of the Western Union office in his depot, appropriated my salary and applied it to rent.  My only worry was what to do with my meager tips, and they were not enough to cause any loss of  sleep.  Tipping was practically unknown at that time, but I got by okay without writing home for money.

Through living, eating, and breathing telegraphy for several months, Uncle George convinced the Union Pacific Railroad that I was ready for a job with them.

While working in Siloam, a death message came in one day addressed to a man living six miles in the country.  This being outside the delivery limits, the local operator notified the sending office that there would be a delivery charge of $1 per mile, or $6, a guarantee being required before the delivery could be made.  The originating office wired back that the charges were guaranteed, and I was on my way to make the delivery.  It occurred to me that I could make much better time if I had a bicycle, although I had never ridden one.

I found a man with bicycles for rent, and he offered to rent one to me for the trip for $1.00.  This could be paid when the bicycle was returned.  Grabbing the opportunity to get out of the long walk, I took off.

For the first mile or so, my problems were enormous and I spent more time on the ground than on the bicycle.  After several spills, things got better, but I still believe better time could have been made on foot.

A bigger problem soon arose, however.  There were no signs on the roads, and after my original information was all used up, there was nothing to indicate the addressee was any place near where I was looking.  My inquiries met with a cold rebuff in most places.

I found out later there was a lot of moonshining going on in that area, and the residents were very careful about giving out any information to anyone unless they knew exactly what business the inquirer was in, and what he was going to do with the information.

I found the addressee about 6 pm and delivered the telegram after almost giving up on it.  If it hadn't been for the fact that unless the message was delivered there could be no fees charged, and I could have been out $1.00 in bike rent, I am sure that message would not have been delivered that day.

When it came time to settle up for my mileage in making the delivery, Uncle George decided $6 was entirely too much for the delivery of one telegram, and he cut my commission to $3, or one half of the amount promised.  That left only $2 after the bike rental was paid.

A good lesson was learned, however, and I have never forgotten my disappointment.  I thought I was entitled to the full guaranteed price which was quoted by the Western Union.  Perhaps Uncle George was just doing it to teach me not to be so greedy.  Any tip on any message was highly unusual, but I felt I deserved it, and never did feel Uncle George did right by me.  I felt betrayed.

https://eh.net/encyclopedia/history-of-the-u-s-telegraph-industry/