marshall moskow

The ride took a half hour, because the train stopped at all the entrances and there was quite a commotion with so many people getting on and off.  The crowd at each stop was enthusiastic and boisterous.  Men shouted with intense passion about what they had experienced, reporting eagerly to anyone within earshot.

They stepped down at Machinery Hall.  It was almost as large as the Main Exhibition Building, and seemingly every type of contraption in existence was squeezed into the immense wood-and-glass structure.  The first thing Thomas noticed was the racket from the hundreds of simultaneously operating machines.  In certain spots the din made it nearly impossible to speak or be heard in a normal voice: there was far too much clicking, grinding, and clanking for that!  Steam poured loudly out of machine vents and escaped in rising ropes of white.

In the very center of the building stood a mountain of a machine, a forty-foot-tall steam engine.  It was as big as a house, with two huge metal cylinders and an enormous flywheel.  Thomas stood before it in awe, head tilted upward and mouth agape as the floor shuddered beneath him.

 
Reading from the visitor's guide without much technical comprehension, Klaus shouted into Thomas’s ear, "This is a fourteen-hundred-horsepower steam engine.  It has a forty-inch cylinder and a hundred-and-twenty-inch stroke!"

"That is unbelievable!" Thomas shouted back.  

After a couple of minutes, they found a quieter place to stand, in front of a line of full-sized locomotive engines.  The smell of iron and grease permeated the air.  “This is incredible!  This is even more than I’d hoped for!  Do you see all this?  Look at how far we've  come!" Thomas declared, spreading his arms wide.

   
Klaus looked from the almost maniacal expression on Thomas’s face to the visitor’s guide.  He recited, "Machines for mining, chemistry, metal, wood, stone . . . umm . . . sewing, printing . . . and motors and power generators.  And that is not everything."  He put a hand on Thomas's shoulder.  “One thing is for sure: a lot has happened between the printing of the Gutenberg Bible and the present day.”

"Enough, enough!" Thomas implored, pretending to swoon and lose his balance.  "I'm afraid that I will faint dead away."

Klaus snorted, “Right!  If you dare to faint, I will dump you into one of these machines and grind you into a fine powder!”

"You would have no use for a powder made of me," Thomas quipped.  They shared a laugh.  "You know I must investigate everything!"

"Yes!  Where do we start?"

"Turn around—let’s start right here!"

They scrupulously made their way from one apparatus to the next for three and one-half hours, examining machines for all conceivable purposes, including some that made parts for other machines.  They finally sat down on a bench with glasses of flavored soda water.

Klaus groaned, "My legs and my feet hurt."

Thomas nodded in agreement and pointed to his own feet.  He said, "Want to try sitting in one of those rolling chairs and have someone push us around?"

"That seems like a good idea right now," Klaus said, "but I would feel awkward."

​

"Me too."  In fact, Thomas was far too animated to mind his achy feet.  He stood up and strolled across the great hall to where a newspaper was being printed.  He admired the long assembly of belts and rollers and enjoyed the pure smell of ink in the air.  The modern world all around them was being captured in words on the paper right in front of him.  It was symbolic of the shift from the old world of ignorance to the new world of progress and science.

Thomas felt a strong connection, in spirit, with the creators of these new machines from many countries.  He believed that he should be following their work and that he should be more involved with his colleagues at other institutions.  He was aware of his isolation—of how much he was missing at little Tideland College.  Surely, by way of introduction, he could write to his peers at nearby schools or even send a telegram to colleges in Columbia and Charleston, and perhaps Savannah.  But upon reflection, Thomas realized that he hadn't tried to connect, in practical terms, with anyone, because he felt inferior to professors at other schools.  Who, indeed, was he to start a dialogue with an established scholar?  He was really just a pretender who had not done anything of merit.  

Thomas's thoughts turned to his father.  For which stage of his life—for which of his labors—did his father most deserve respect and admiration?  A man didn’t always have to earn success; sometimes it just found him.  All it took was a few months of backbreaking toil sifting gold from a stream.  It was hard work, no question about that.  But it was not nearly as hard as driving a six-horse team through cold torrential rain and deep mud, hauling a fifteen-hundred-pound load, and losing a wheel.  Now that was a match for any man’s work: mining coal, cutting trees, casting iron—anything!  Thomas knew that he’d had it easy for his entire life because of his father’s good luck.

Emerging from this reverie, he sauntered back to Klaus.  "That sign over there says twenty-seven daily and weekly newspapers are published in this city.  Imagine that!  Such a selection would be overwhelming!"  He smiled and said, "I’ve been most impressed by the generators and other types of motors that power other machines."

Klaus said, "It is all fascinating! By the way, Thomas, what time is it?"  

Thomas opened his pocket watch and said, "Almost two.  I'm hungry!"

"Yes!  I want to have lunch at the German restaurant."

"Good idea.  Look at the map.  Where is it on the map?"

"Here.  Oh, it is pretty far—behind Horticultural Hall."

"Not behind it.  More to the north, but close to it.  Why don't we take the train from here to Horticultural Hall, and then get a German lunch?"

"Yes!"

​

They walked from the train stop next to Horticultural Hall to the German restaurant and, after a short wait, were seated in a large, busy dining area.  Thomas looked around and asked, "Is this what a restaurant looks like in Germany—these colors and designs?"

Klaus said, "Mmm . . . yes . . . somewhat.  But not so big."

The room was very noisy with boisterous conversation and the clatter of plates and glasses.  A waiter in a handsome costume handed them menus.  He bowed politely and moved on to another table.