Pleiades Club—Telegraphers' Paradise on Planet Mars. J. W. Hayes
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It was a delightful gathering which assembled at a dinner on the planet Mars given in honor of Abraham Lincoln, on the occasion of his birthday, by the Pleiades Club, composed mostly of old-time telegraph men and their admirers, AD 1916.
Numerically, the gathering was greater than that which assembled on any previous occasion on Mother Earth, and viewing the happy, smiling faces of those present, one felt that it was good to be here.
Sounders clicked on every side; all were readable, and harmony prevailed, nobody ever sending six dots for the letter “p” or the figure 4 for a “v.”
President Lincoln presided and much attention was paid to his remarks. The President’s face possessed that wonderfully kind and loving appearance so apparent during life and his voice bespoke his gentle spirit. Earnestly he chatted with some late arrivals on Mars, asking particularly for his old telegraph associates on earth. He enquired about the “Sacred three” and Billy Dealy and many of the boys in the field in the stirring days of the war.
The President was a busy soul, looking out for “his Father’s business,” as he expressed it, and he was the recipient of much reverence from all assembled.
Aaron Hilliker Sings Olden Song.
Music was called for, when to the astonishment of all, the form of A. B. Hilliker appeared at the threshold. Aaron was as full of bonhomme as of yore and responded to many requests by singing “The Old Oaken Bucket,” which evoked an enthusiastic encore.
“What did you sine in the spring of ’73?” queried Jim Largay.
“You should have asked me what I sined in ’53,” replied Hilliker, as he smiled at Professor Morse, who pleasantly returned the recognition.
“The question before the Club tonight is ‘Preparedness,’ ” remarked General Thomas T. Eckert, “and I would like to see this subject fully discussed,” continued that gallant gentleman.
Biff Cook Makes a Speech.
“Never mind,” interposed “Biff” Cook, “that is all provided for and should our beloved country ever get into a war, it will be one of short duration. It will be a one man’s war against a congress of nations. Why, my friends, the ‘Wizard of Menlo Park’ has all that studied out, but he is not talking about it or giving the idea away.”
“Why,” continued Cook, emphasizing his words, “Tom Edison has it all figured out that in twelve hours’ time he can weave a cobweb of wires on our ocean’s shore to completely annihilate immediately any threatening craft fifty miles out at sea. I wish that I could communicate this information to the timid people down there on earth, for I believe it would do them a world of good.
“I know all about this, for Tom told me about the scheme back there in ’74, when I used to ‘dot on his quadruplex’ along with Eddie Fullum and Billy Landy, at 145 Broadway.
“No, boys,” went on “Biff,” “let’s talk of the wireless. We are all so much interested in that. Why, it was only last week that we all heard New York talking to Honolulu and I tried to break in, but that ‘ham’ in New York would not adjust and we lost our opportunity of being heard. Just think, if he had pulled up his relay just half an inch we would have been in direct communication. If that fellow had ever worked in Cheyenne alongside of Comb Green, when I worked the overland at Omaha, he would have known something about keeping adjusted and the dear old Earth would have received startling news which would have thrown the feat of Commander Peary into the shade.
“Don’t you know, cull,” continued Cook, “that I really believe that our planet Mars may be called upon to perform her good offices in case any hostile nation should attempt to invade the United States, and I believe that Tom Edison has solved that intricate problem.”
With these remarks, “Biff” sat down amid thundering applause.
The St. Louis band, composed of W. W. Cummings, Sidney B. Fairchild, James Nelson and James Murray, then rendered “The Star-Spangled Banner,” after which the audience was addressed on the subject of wireless telegraph.
Professor Zingalli, of Milan, whose name would indicate that he was “flagging” while on earth, gave the assemblage a graphic account of the possibilities of the wireless.
“Why, my friends,” he said, “this science is still in its infancy. Were I to tell you of all its possibilities, you would not believe me. The day is sure to come when all you gentlemen will have an opportunity of talking to your loved ones on earth by means of the wireless telephone. There will be a million circuits running into Chicago, none of them interfering with the other. Every hamlet in the country will have a wireless telephone and telegraph instrument. Trains will be run by wireless, ships will use wireless as a motive power and city car lines’ power will be usurped by the ever present wireless.”
“Then I would not have to walk any more from San Francisco to Chicago, would I?” ejaculated the irrepressible “Bogy.”
“Cold day when you ever walked,” laughed Hank Cowan, who sat opposite his former colleague. “That ‘con’ told me a different story; yes, you walked all the way, of course you did, but only from one end of the car to the other.”
This sally caused much merriment among the members of the Club, which gave way to a speech entitled “The Future of the Telegraph,” specially prepared for the occasion by Col. Mark D. Crain.
The meeting then adjourned subject to the call of the secretary, who was none else than that prince of good fellows, Jim P. Doody.
CHAPTER II.
FOURTH OF JULY ON PLANET MARS
THERE was much commotion on the planet Mars.
As closely as the most patriotic mathematician could reckon time and compare it with a corresponding period on the Earth, it was Fourth of July and the dwellers on Mars decided to celebrate in a “sane” manner.
Everybody to their own liking and the American members of the Pleiades Club determined that this should be the occasion when Colonel Marquis Delafayette Crain should address them on “The Future of the Telegraph.”
The club members began gathering at an early hour, forming into little knots in a semi-circle around the speaker’s stand. It was a “get acquainted” meeting, too, and the committee of arrangements was kept very busy.
“Yes, I have known Bert Ayres for many years and copied press from him many a night,” said O. A. Gurley, as Mr. Ayres was introduced. Merry sallies passed between the two gentlemen, when the gavel sounded with a loud rap and the master of ceremonies introduced Col. Mark D. Crain, the speaker.
Loud and enthusiastic greetings followed this introduction and the Colonel smilingly acknowledged the welcome.
Colonel Crain Delivers Address.
“I am to speak today upon the future of the telegraph,” he began, but he was interrupted by Ed. Parmalee, who asked him to change his topic to the “past” history of the telegraph.
“Cannot do it just now, as I am all primed with my topic, and