Francis Line, the film maker, was the second son of Charles Smith Line. In 1959 C.S. wrote his memiors.  In the following pages we have transcribed his notes.  Occasionally, we have re-worded his sentences in the story to make them more concise.  We hope you will be as facinated as we have in reading his story about America from his perspective.

Chapter One

World Fair, Chicago, 1893

By C. S. Line

My older brother, Allie, and I got to go to the fair toward which all trains converged.  It created a major terminal problem in the “Windy City”.  Later, father and mother joined us, and we as a family found private rooming quarters at 4344 Cottage Grove Avenue, not over a mile by streetcar to the fair grounds at Jackson Park on the lakefront.

            As fair meals could be had for 8-cents, or a full meal with all the trimmings for 15-cents, during our stay of several days, Allie and I found a restaurant downtown that we patronized exclusively.   Of course, aside from the fair itself, we did all the numerous “sights” Chicago has to offer, like the museums, art galleries, zoo, parks, Montgomery Tower, Clark and State Streets, etc.

            For use at the fair, the government had coined many millions of half dollars, which served afterward as ordinary money in circulation.  Such as it were the half-dollars were not monopolized by coin collectors and thus removed from everyday use.  I haven’t seen one for 50 years outside of our own sample preserved by us as a souvenir.  They were of special design and called “The Columbian Half Dollar”. They were used in the automatic turnstiles for entrance at the gate in lieu of tickets.

            Talking about souvenir coins, along with the “Columbian” I have in our coin box a dime I picked up from the dust in the road 50 or more years ago, dated 1799; and a whole series of half dollars with plain and not milled edges, with printing all around the circumference, with varying dates thereon, but mostly 1803 and 1808, which happen to be the dates when my grandfather Smith and grandmother Smith, were born, respectively.  I acquired them from a customer I had in Elizabeth, when she came in every week for her 10-cent novel. Week after week she presented these coins in payment.  We figured she had gotten so hard up on cash and in need of her reading that she had been forced to “break the bank”, so to speak.  Mother, in the old days, had a gold dollar, minted the year gold was discovered in California, which would be worth a fortune today as a rare coin, but it got away from her.  We never knew now.  Another coin in our collection is a nickel with a hobo etched on the reverse side.  It was perfect, but it really belongs to Francis, who found it, originally.  Then we have the late $2 bill.

            In 1893 there occurred the worst farm depression that was ever visited upon the country.  The success of the World’s Fair was all the more remarkable because of     the country wide economic conditions.  It was written down in history as “The Panic of ‘93”.

            William Jennings Bryan, “the great commoner” was at this time making himself heard across the land, as “the boy orator of the Platte” in his speeches about the “cross of gold and the crown of thorns”.  His arguments on the “free coinage of silver on a basis of 3 to 1”, linked to his vaunted abolition of the gold standard, captivated many people, so that his oratory through the years resulted in his nomination for president of the U.S. in three succeeding elections.  I was disillusioned many years later, when I heard him lecture at a church function, and at that time I put him down as the regular brand of “spellbinder”.  His so-called “lecture” which was supposed to be on the missions, turns out to be a denominational “sermon” pure and simple, and was 3-1/2 hours long.  He was a rabid Methodist, but that is not a proper subject to discuss in a school auditorium when an educational topic had been advertised.  In these matters his diplomacy or judgment failed him, and the length of his effort was enough to pall his hearers, even with the best of orators.

            In the treatise I want to discuss the big business of the railroad commuting service, both from the standard of national practice and it individual application, as in our case. This service reached its peak in the decade of 1890-1900, from where it deteriorated gradually through the years until it had become a trickle, where it stands today, thanks to the automobile.   For better or worse it has put suburban local trains out of business. The “local” has never been devised a safer, more economical, or dependable form of transportation in and out of large cities, with special application to New York City.

            In its peak years literally hundreds and hundreds of commuter trains moved in and out of New York, on time and under a perfectly organized system, involving 10 or a dozen railroads converging upon the metropolis, and with no confusion, and the satisfaction of its patrons.  It is a shame that such accommodations are no longer available.

            In its individual application, as in our case, I have already mentioned my run between Rahway and Elizabeth (South Elizabeth).  Allie, while living in Elizabeth carried a monthly ticket for 30 round trips between Elizabeth and New York, were he went on buying trips at least once a week and often more than once, along with special trips.  When he moved to Plainfield with his family, he used a Plainfield-New York card.  Leaving notice with us the night before of his regular run into the city, the following day, which was Wednesday, he would take the Plainfield Express. It was an exclusive New York train, and did not stop at Elizabeth.  On other days his ticket was good to and from Plainfield to Elizabeth, or in the opposite direction, as the same regulations applied between Elizabeth and New York.

            The dyed-in-the-wool commuter has an ingrained prejudice about getting to the depot 30 seconds ahead of the train time.  That Plainfield Express is a heavy train. Starting at Bound Brook, the first railroad division West of Plainfield, and as soon as it comes in sight one may see men running from all directions to board it, without wasting one second in waiting.  When the conductor, Bill Shane, with watch in hand, calls out “all aboard” and waves to the engineer, all must be aboard, or get left, for the train must be on time.  The important stock brokers and other notables would not stand for unwarranted delay, for it was a crack train, with its club cars and special equipment.  Allie took the opposing train in the evening, upon his return, through to Plainfield.  Those days are gone forever, as far as that phase if local travel is concerned, but succeeded perhaps by other and better facilities now, heretofore unknown.

            Referring to a personal incident, I occasionally had changed my clothes, or forgot to change my ticket from my other pocket or other subterfuge, and didn’t have my ticket when the conductor came to punch it.  When he would tolerantly tell me to never mind, that he would take two punches next day, which he invariably did either from his own recollection or my voluntarily offering it.

            Several incidents while in the New York area are worthy of mention.  For instance going in with Allie, which I did once in a while.  Arriving in Jersey City, he would nonchalantly pass through the gate leading to the ferry, along with the hundreds of others going the same way without any demand from the gatekeeper that he showed his ticket.  While I and the other transients, showed theirs, as was expected.  Allie said he bet that I couldn’t do that (go through unchallenged), same as he did.  I took it up next time we were in together, and walked through the gate as if I had the right, without a ticket, and was immediately accosted and brought back with “hey there you, where do you think you are going?”  It is marvelous how those fellows, seeing thousands of people every day can instantly by intuition it would seem, can pick out the regulars from the transients, and never seem to make a mistake perhaps because they are seldom tested like in my case.

            Allie and I went over to New York to see a Columbus Day parade, and stood on the sidewalk of Broadway for six hours.  We watched 50,000 people march by.  On another occasion we hired a team and surrey to make a long drive to Morristown, for an outing over a Sunday.  Emily McIntosh, a grown up cousin from the west, dropped in on us for a day or two, and showing her around the city, a bicycle knocked her down on Broadway, but with no injury other than bruises. 

            While living so near the big city I took ample opportunity to see all the outstanding sights.  Among them I may mention Central Park, with its many attractions; the American Museum of Natural History, on the west fringe of the park; the Metropolitan Museum or Art.  To this latter I brought my lunch, for it takes half a day to look over these displays.  The doorman made me leave it outside, to which I protested that somebody might snitch it.  He responded that he was not hungry.  The Brooklyn Bridge, cost one cent to walk across; the Eden Musee, a waxworks like the London replica on 42^nd St., afterwards abandoned, for what, I do not know, for one of the tourist attractions; the “Elevated”, on 3^rd, 6^th, and 9^th, avenues from the Battery to uptown, to Harlem.  I have at times taken one line to 155^th Street for 5-cents, and arriving at the terminal, crossed the tracks and road back downtown on the same fare.   Afterwards they stationed a checker at the terminal to stop that sharp practice.

            Battery Park was a pretty little green sodden area, surrounded by an iron fence, with the ball apexes atop each post gone.  They were sawn off and used for cannon balls in the Revolutionary War.  The Aquarium, also at the lower end of Manhattan, was an interesting attraction, but it has long been removed.  Trinity Church, on lower Broadway I have been inside and sat in those historical pews; the Vanderbilt Mansions side by side about 50^th St., on Fifth Avenue; Broadway all its length interesting, and I walked its entire length; the Bedloe Island, with its Stature of Liberty; the Hudson water front, berthing boats from all over the world like the huge German steamer just launched, the Emperator of North Germany.  I saw it enter the harbor on its maiden voyage and berth.

            The “Bowery” was the “Sheeny” Street and it was an intriguing exhibition of what merchandising at its summit can be capable of accomplishing. Nott Street with its Chinese atmosphere, Coney Island was always a going attraction, and I had my first introduction to a 25-cent round trip fare by the Iron S. S. Company.  It was a crush by which all other crushes were puny.  I was on this trip, with my little brother.  Midland Beach was another water front picnic resort on the Atlantic Ocean.  In the Coney Island Trip I had to hold Raymond above my shoulders to avert him being crushed.

            One year-end father and mother came out for Christmas, and father was placed in charge of a toy store that Allie had opened in a temporary building for a month though the Holidays trade.

            Charles Broadway Rouses store at 549 Broadway was 12-story unique merchandise mart and at same time otherwise it was a major attraction.  We often went onto the roof for the superb view there from.  C.B.R. joined with his original building another two-front building adjoining, all without disturbing business and with minimum of dust and inconvenience, by temporary partitions, thus making his later address 549-551-553, more of C.B.R.

            Another attraction from a historical standpoint was Grant’s Tomb; and the 6-day bicycle races at Madison Square Garden, a grueling grind.

In some particulars Charles Broadway Rouss was a marvel of merchandizing. With his own standards of business and procedures, he was a character in himself.  He issued a large catalogue every month.  The editorial columns of which were dominated by phonetic spelling.  His methods were OK for both parties if conditions were strictly adhered to.  He agreed to furnish ½ the capital of the would-be merchant starting up a new business, providing the dealer agreed to send orders to Rouss to the extent that he at the same time remitted an equal amount toward original investment of capital plus whatever merchandise was supplied in the interim, and as long as the arrangement was kept up all went well.

However, many let their contract lapse either by poor trade or diverting orders elsewhere, and so Rouss bore with the laxness for but a short time, with remonstrance when he would foreclose, if his claims were not satisfied, and ship the goods back to New York.  I have known of this to happen more than once when it was considered Rouss was a hard taskmaster.  I never got into his power, and always benefited by his liberal furnishing of whatever goods I wanted for he found by experience that I would always be ready with the cash on demand, and I established a fine credit with the concern.

I am speaking of my own store, opened at a future date, in Linesville.  Line & Co. benefited but a little of Rouss’ set up, though in contract every week on my account, in later years.  Rouss believed in cash on all fronts.  His start was small, from a push cart in the city of New York soon after the Civil War, from which he leaped like a meteor into the gigantic concern that I knew at this time, looking ever onward and upward through the years.  His specialty was buying out standard factory products of good quality merchandise at a fraction of real worth, for cash, when such firm had gotten into financial trouble; and taking tag ends or discontinued items on a like basis, where quantity was no draw back, if quality and price were right.  So any factory knew that Rouss had the cash, and he was the first one contacted when they wanted to unload, and that is where I came in for some great bargains in my store, named later.

Rouss was blind for many years and he had a standing offer for many years of a million dollars to anybody who could restore his sight.  He superintended various departments and was guided from top to bottom of the establishment and woe to an employee caught smoking, which was forbidden.  He didn’t need to see.  He could smell unerringly.  He was a crank as generally understood and among the slogans he furnished to his dealers was this motto, which I noted prominently in my store: “ To trust is rust, to rust is bust, no trust, no rust, no bust.”  I was ever ready to subscribe to the cash method of doing business, both buying and selling and thereby could and did offer my patrons great bargains.  He had a son, Pete, who was presumed to step into the old man’s shoes, but I don’t think it worked out, for the last time I was in New York the character of that portion of Broadway had changed and old #549 was no more and other enterprises occupied the site.

After his wife’s death Allie and his family moved back to Plainfield, with his aunts, and to start with I moved with them, riding my bicycle back and forth the 12 miles to open up and close the store, morning and night, and Aunt Beatty would put up and send my noon lunch with me.  After a month I fitted up and partitioned off living and sleeping quarters in the rear of #1193, next to the original 1197.  I had a side door, and heating from the storeroom fronting my quarters.  I fitted myself with a table, bookcase, easy chair, and bed.  I had oil stove for cooking if needed.  Before going on with the chronology I think I will interpose at this time my camera experiences.