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The railroad service is so terrible that they haven't subdivided very much. I think that's all to the good. Most of the people up there are quite satisfied and that's why they haven't protested about the miserable service.

One amusing thing about the railroad up our way that might be worth citing occurred before they moved the track and built a bridge over them for the road leading to the Hudson River. When a train lumbered into view in the old days, an old man would lower the gates. On a Friday afternoon when the traffic was heavy, it would back up the cars for miles. So finally they built the bridge over the tracks. The first time that we took Bill Faulkner up there, he was fascinated by the old man turning the wheel to lower the gate. He stood there watching for about five minutes. I said, “What are you watching, Bill?" Bill Faulkner said, “I'm mighty glad to see something up North that's still done by hand.”

When they made these changes in the track, it took forever. What a job! I wrote a piece for the Patent Trader, the local paper up there, in which I indicated that the whole staff that was working on the job had taken sick one afternoon, stopping work entirely because the entire force consisted of one man. Mr. Pearlman, the president of the New York Central, saw this piece, and to my astonishment called me up and said, “I know that you were being very funny, but you don't know the troubles we've been having.” He ended his recital of the woes of the New York Central in