"Joe Haldeman - Guardian" - читать интересную книгу автора (Haldeman Joe)

We hadn't planned to spend more than a day in Buffalo, but the larger world of politics
and labor stepped in.
I had not been following the news. Our Pullman cars were the invention and
property of George Pullman, who had built a city outside Chicago, a "company town,"
named after himself. He had reduced wages over the winter, to save jobs, supposedly—
but he didn't reduce the rent his workers had to pay in the town of Pullman. There was
some rabble-rousing, and ultimately almost all of the workers joined the ARU, American
Railway Union, and went on strike.
When we got to Buffalo on June 26th, the ticketmaster wasn't able to give me a
ticket on to Cincinnati, because there was a strike against any line handling Pullman
equipment.
The newspaper only had a small story about it, crowded out by the shocking news
from France: President Carnot was assassinated, stabbed to death in his own carriage by
an Italian anarchist. There was also a story about a terrible tornado in Kansas, which
made me apprehensive but filled Daniel with perverse glee.
There was no telling how long the strike would go on. I investigated two
alternatives: proceeding west via Canadian rails (the Grand Trunk Railway was slow but
not on strike) or taking a steamboat up the Great Lakes. We decided on the latter course,
although it did mean waiting for a couple of days, with the sudden demand on the
steamship line by businessmen as well as tourists.
It occurred to me also that a customs declaration, upon entering Canada and
returning, could give Edward too much information about our whereabouts. My letter
might not frighten him, but rather spur him to action.
We took advantage of the delay and spent a day touring Niagara Falls, beautiful
but, for me, terrifying. At Daniel's insistence I had agreed to visit the Cave of the Winds,
which turned out to be a little too exciting. Baedeker's says "only those of strong nerves
should attempt the trip through the Cave of the Winds, which, however, is said to be safe
and is often made by ladies." There were no other ladies in our group; I had to hold the
hand of a gentleman stranger, as well as my son's, as we sidled along a narrow path with
our noses against the rock cliff and the unending explosion of the huge cascade at our
backs.
Other than that experience, the falls lived up to their reputation as one of God's
great wonders, although the constant importunings of merchants were annoying, and in
context seemed almost sacrilegious. In the deafening roar at the base of the falls, people
would tug on your sleeve and shout, trying to sell you a postal card or souvenir fan.
In Buffalo, we stayed at the Niagara Hotel, a sumptuous place that cost five
dollars a night. (To put that into modern perspective, my notes show that the steamboat
ride all the way to Chicago was only twenty dollars, including berth and all meals for
almost a week.)
I enjoyed touring the city by electric tramway, though Daniel was disgusted by
the lack of excitement—we should have done Buffalo the first day and Niagara the
second. He was impressed by a mile-long block of coal elevators twenty stories tall,
seeing little service due to the strike. I most remember the public library, surprisingly
large and dignified, with a good art collection and a room of literary curiosities, including
Edgar Allan Poe's watch, which impressed me because of "The Tell-Tale Heart."
The steamboat left about sundown, and although it proved reasonably comfortable
except for the noise and occasional smoke on deck, it was grindingly slow and tedious
compared to rail travel. Daniel taught me how to play cribbage, and we traded vast sums
in ersatz IOU's.