"down in his luck," all of his genius could not save him.

General Grant did not create the Civil War that took him away from carting wood in St. Louis, and landed him at Appomattox in four years. Lincoln did not lay any vast plans for the Presidency when he began the debates with Douglas, nor had he figured on the Emancipation Proclamation when he took the oath of office as President. Benjamin Franklin had no visions of being the petted idol of France and the greatest diplomat in the world when he left Boston, a mere lad with a few dollars in his pockets, and a few weeks later walked through the streets of Philadelphia munching a loaf of bread. The bullet that killed President McKinley made Roosevelt President; the unguarded remarks of one man made Grover Cleveland President; the Battle of New Orleans made Jackson President! So it will be seen that this thing which is called "luck" enters into human affairs in apparently unexplained ways at times-in ways that make men almost, if not wholly, superstitious.

But what we call "luck" after all is in most cases the result of perseverance combined with natural ability. It is the outcome of circumstances in which the ability of the individual was the dominating factor.

The spirit of true optimism was never better illustrated than on the occasion of the annual outing of Local 36 to Tashmoo Park, on June 23. Somewhere in the archives of time there may be recorded a wetter or more copious rainfall than occurred on this day, but it was before the foundation of the local Weather Bureau. Detroit had but six days of sunshine in the month of June, so the odds were tremendously against us before we even started. However, when the final estimate was made every one decided

that the weather had not been of any consequence anyhow; if anything, it only effected a closer concentration of individuals which tended toward better personal acquaintance.

The event was a gala one in the elevator history of the city. Local 36 acted as host for the entire day and invited everyone connected in any way with the elevator industry. About three hundred and fifty went along, which was a very good attendance when the weather outlook is considered. The committee: Bros. Cobey, Reinstedt, and Mullett, had done everything possible to insure a pleasant time and no detail was overlooked that might lend gayety to the occasion.

Everyone seemed to be out to have as good a time as possible and age was no obstacle to a full measure of enjoyment. Brother Baldy Burlingame felt so rejuvenated that he attempted to go aboard the boat on a child's ticket. The eagle-eyed and stonypurser reminded him that the age limit on those tickets was 12 years, and while Baldy's actions might tend to make him believe that he was below that age, still he hardly felt that Baldy could get by on his looks. Baldy immediately looked up the committee and said that he would have to have a full ticket in order to get aboard the boat, but if they raised the age limit to 15 he was sure that he could slip by on the other. The sail up Lake St. Clair to the Flats was devoted to the making and renewing of acquaintances and on the arrival at Tashmoo Park at noon, the entire assembly gathered at Lemke's Hotel, where an excellent fish and chicken dinner was served. Those two valiant and boisterous trenchermen, Brothers Truse and Anderson, carefully selected seats near a large party of youngsters on the supposition that it would be a very easy matter to secure a double, or perhaps a triple portion of the delicacies in this location, but the way those kids double-crossed those two schemers was a shame. The next time they meet that bunch of kids

at dinner they will see that they have a separate lunch stowed away in their pockets.

The dinner over, adjournment to the park and its amusements was in order. The dance hall was a very popular place and Brother Casey Williams showed that Vernon Castle had nothing on him when it came to terpsichorean revelry. Otis Butler, the genial overtime superintendent of the Otis Elevator Company, may have missed one dance during the afternoon, but it was when the writer was not looking. The weather man had a little mercy on us later in the afternoon, and it was possible to run off the athletic games. Brothers L. Cooper and Lahiff, with Bill Best, of the Otis office, acted as judges and gave satisfaction except in a couple of events. It was extremely doubtful whether Brother Cooper's eyesight ever got back to normal after the young ladies' races were run. He certainly gave it an awful strain during the races. It was noticeable that the holy-stoned domes of Brother Lahiff and Bill Best were suffused with a bright pink color during the rest of the afternoon. All three claim that they want the same job next year and Ye Scribe, who was standing near them, believes that he will be on the job himself next year. It is worth the trial. The races were well run. Brother Bill Kulling was very sore because he did not show up in time to get into the 100-yard dash for young

ANNUAL OUTING LOCAL UNION No. 36, I. U. E. C., DE

men, but he made up for it by winning the free-for-all 100, and thereby won as fine a kit of tools as ever graced the box of an elevator constructor. Bill was much attached to the outfit and declares that he is going to see that Brother Mike Mullett keeps his helper away from his job. The married ladies' race was featured by an exhibition of ground and lofty tumbling by Mrs. Rioth, of Kansas City. Alex. Donald, of the Otis shop, won the fat men's race by a thickness and was still puffing when the boat got into Detroit. The tug-of-war was hotly contested while it lasted-onehalf second. The combined Haughton, A. B. See, Detroit, Kaestner and Hecht and Elevator Repairs Companies, along with the City Inspection Department, were too much for the Otis Elevator Company. Prizes were unique and were enjoyed by all, even the unsuccessful. A fine panoramic picture was taken and nearly all were present to be mapped. The sail home was a pleasant one, as the weather had cleared and every one united in agreeing that Local 36 had pulled off the best thing in the picnic line ever seen in these parts.

Brother Roy Stroud is wearing a very broad smile these days-it is a boy.

Brothers Mike and Jack Mullett have the heartfelt sympathy of all the boys, owing to the loss of their mother. H. McQuillen, whose foot was crushed, has had his toe removed at

TROIT, MICH., AT TASHMOO PARK, JUNE 23, 1917

St. Mary's Hospital. It will be some time before he is back at work.

Most of the boys have purchased Liberty Bonds, there being about $10,000 worth of bonds held by brothers of the local.

Brothers are all working except such as are taking voluntary vacations. Brother Jack Watkins has been spending his in Chicago.

Most of the brothers are envying Brother Bill Kulling. Bill married a farmer's daughter and in the hot summer weather makes it a point to spend about two or three weeks on the farm; then along about Thanksgiving time, he doesn't forget the location of the same little farm, and at Christmas time, takes the same trip over again and generally forgets to return until after he has had that New Year's feed. Pretty soft for Billy.

Brother Walter Borck, one of our champion fishermen, took a two weeks' trip some time ago and he catches a week's supply of fish now every time he finds a brother who will listen to him.

Brother Larry Murphy takes his regular trip every Saturday and Sunday to some of the inland lakes and gets back on the job Monday morning. Some time ago he promised to call up the writer and let him know when he had a regular fish that he could let him have, but up to date the phone has been strangely silent. However, as Brother Murphy does not limit his

fishing to summer time, maybe there is hope yet.

Brother Harry Hawthorne is on a furlough from marine headquarters somewhere on the Atlantic Coast. Brother Hawthorne is in charge of a machine-gun squad and expects to be sent to France before very long. Many of the boys in No. 36 are eligible for the draft and we expect our ranks will be some depleted in a short time. Fraternally yours,

Local No. 36. F. T. ANDERSON.

SAN FRANCISCO, CAL.

To the Editor:

Three months-not three weeks-as a business agent under the general supervision of many bosses is an experience, that, if it is properly placed in cold type by some one who knows how to convey thought to the reading public, would far surpass any comedy, tragedy or biographies ever written; but for me to wallow through it and skim the surface and forget many things that should be said and cause some of the old-timers at the game to laugh and many others to pity me for trying to write from a "Cub's" viewpoint, may be the fate of this articlealthough my intentions are good and I am only human-I will rap the nail a few times on the head and draw a word picture of my own.

No. 8 is the only thing that I know anything about. So this will be about what No. 8 wanted done and what yours truly did. Being of little im

portance to the company where I worked, it did not seriously affect the business, and I was ushered into this august position as manager of the business of the many members of Local No. 8.

The first thing necessary is to get out your jewelry, your wedding suit, the patent leathers, the hard hat, the cane, the red necktie and gloves-borrow them if you have none "your hands may have bumps on them and that won't do," and then walk up and down in front of the looking glass and practice looking intelligent.

The first send-off you get will be a compliment. "Your wife will do that before you leave the house." She admires that wedding suit, and she tells the neighbors on the "Cute Tee" that her man has been promoted and you keep quiet for you know you may be ditched at any time.

The first job you call on is a friend of yours, and you call on him, although you knew there was no trouble there; but just to show him what a real business agent should look like when he is properly fixed up. You try one of the firms and present your card. Welcome, old boy; welcome, old boy. I am glad to see you, and how is the wife and all the folks, and call again at your leisure. Have a cigar. Call again. Good-bye.

You have a particular friend or two more, and make their jobs and reIceive their advice on just how to do things, and as you come sauntering in at 5.20 for supper at your home and the wife is proud, and you just rinse off your hands-"don't need any sand or tar soap now"-and you eat your supper with a sweet smile of contentment, while you are reading the society columns of the evening papers.

Arrangements are made for recreation and a little enjoyment, and you and the frau spend a pleasant evening free from all worries and cares of this sordid world at some vaudeville or movie.

This closes chapter one of the first day. Day No. 2, up at 5.30-"used to it," and start in to put the others on,

but now it is Sunday every day and a shave and a brush of the togs and the phone rings and one of the boys wants to see you at 7.30. Something doing, and, believe me, you know how to do it. All he wanted was enough to tide him over until Saturday night. There is nothing serious about that, for you either have it or you have not.

You hear that a new job of eight elevators is about to commence and you call and find the manager of the firm and three machinists and two laborers and the teamster all doing your work. You shift your cigar to the other side of your mouth, give the manager a hard look, hand him your card and wait for him to apologize. He don't do it, but tells you that he has been looking all over town for you; that he is a great union man himself; let me just straighten this up and it will never happen again. All right. Thanks. Have a cigar. Good-bye. Pleased to see you any time.

Ferybody is working, and your union has decided to have none but those who belong or are seeking to belong by applications to your trade. Your phone rings and you receive a request for eight men on one job, three on another, four on a rush job. You answer. I'll take this up with the union officers and fix you up. What are you doing on the job if you can't fix it? Has the elevator business got to stop on account of your foolish laws? These and many other things are said to you, and what those bosses think may cause them to not hire you when you have outlived your usefulness as the B. A.

You and the officers arrange to procure these men from the Building Trades Council from other crafts. The ones that are available count one on the payroll, but not on the job. I believe I sent Brother Harris ten at one time, and the next time I saw him his hair was a just a little grayer and he looked mad. I guess the fellow that was paying them felt and looked even

worse.

You run across a dear friend of yours that just took the boy from the

shop for a half a day's work, but did not get through for two days, and you ask him to appear before the executive board and explain. Good-bye, friend.

You get in "Dutch." Remember all the dear brothers are your boss and all the bosses have suggestions and advice and a trick or two, and the B. T. Council keeps its weather eye on your actions.

Individuality must assert itself on this job or you will be likened to the old man and the boy (who carried the jackass on their shoulders because the people said it was a shame for both of them to ride him). It is not a bad idea to wear a slat up the backbone, so that you do not get weak and wobbly. You can force people to respect you, even if they do not love you, although you be a business agent.

Sending men to jobs is a delicate piece of work-something like handling gun cotton and the other mixtures that go with it-especially when a boss tells you he will not let that fellow work for him "on an island." Five men are loafing, and one of them is a better mechanic than the other. The good man gets the last chance-always in the eyes of the "crabbing gentry and the near mechanics!"

The business agent's ear becomes a great receptacle for danger alarms and sounds of distress, and ere long you become an expert trouble shooter in the labor world of social ills. The most of the trouble you will find in the "feed wires," and that is no more than right and just, for the majority of workingmen ask nothing more than to work all the time; but in some cases those who never lose a day's work grieve the most when the B. A. cannot accomplish the impossible.

My observations during my short incumbency as the representative has led me to draw these conclusions. The acme of efficiency is not gauged by the amount of trouble that you plunge the union into, but rather to adjust differences by moral persuasion along the lines of least resistance that will give the desired results is what constitutes personal ability and redounds to the

benefit of those who pay the price of a business agent. The component parts that go toward the make-up of the anatomy of the average boss is but little different from the boys who work at the trade, however much their assumed or presumed dignities may appear to you, for they fully realize the necessity of co-operation and the wise boss knows the days of "nigger" driving have passed into oblivion.

I am really surprised. It is hard for me to express myself regarding my awakening or of knowledge gained by interviews with bosses. The tender tears of sympathy of the bosses appeal to me. I have yet failed to meet one who will not listen to facts and figures, reason and humanitarian argupermeates the atmosphere of prosperity of the present, but whether real or assumed, it is a fact, and I find the bosses just and human-if handled as humans.

It is utterly impossible for any business agent to attain perfection or to become immune from criticism by some bosses or by other "Carion Birds" of discontent; but he can do his duty as he conscientiously believes right without fear or favor, and the majority of your local will back you up and stand by you through thick and thin.

I have studied organized labor from many angles continuously for many years. Never have I "boycotted" the meetings, never have I lost an opportunity to attend other meetings when out of town. I have served on many different kinds of committees and have taken part in some of the rough and tumble part of the game, and I have within a few short months learned that you have to be a "wise old owl" to be a successful business agent.

Unionism must be looked after every minute of the day; not hourly, not weekly, not bi-monthly, but night and day, and the unexpected visits of a business agent are feared by the "Make Good Guys" and welcomed by the boys who play the game right. I hope I have not said anything in this article to make any knocker think the less of me, but a knock is a boost, and