The Great Lakes.The Vessels That Plough Them

So might the tragedy and the romance of the Inland Seas be written without end, for each year adds a new chapter to the old; and yet, how many thousands of our seekers of novelty say, with the young woman I know, “I want to go where something has happened – where there have been battles, and pirates, and where there’s sunken ships, and treasure, and things!”

VI

Buffalo and Duluth: the Alpha and Omega of the Lakes

Is the day approaching when Buffalo and not Chicago will be the second largest city in the United States? and when, at the end of Lake Superior, her back doors filled with the treasures of the earth and with a developed empire about her, Duluth will claim a million inhabitants? Is the day far distant when the world’s greatest manufacturing city will be located on the Niagara River? and when, as steel men all the world over believe, Duluth will be a second and perhaps greater Pittsburg?

These are questions which have never been of greater interest than now, when the State of New York is expending over a hundred million dollars on the new Erie Canal, thus “bringing Buffalo and the Lakes to the sea,” and when, at the same time, the United States Steel Corporation is devoting ten million dollars to the erection of the most modern steel plant in the world at Duluth.

“Buffalo is the great doorway of the Inland Seas,” said President McKinley only a short time before his tragic death. “Some day she will reach out to the ocean, and when that time comes she will be one of the greatest cities in the world.” For many years the people of Buffalo have dreamed of this. And now it is coming true. And while the Pittsburger, entrenched in the prosperity of steel and fortified behind the smoke of his own mills, has been laughing at prophecies, away up at the end of the thousand-mile highway that leads to Duluth, other people have been dreaming. And their dreams, too, are coming true. For years the silent struggle for the supremacy of cities has been in progress along the Great Lakes. The outside world has seen little of it, and has heard little of it. Now the beginning of the end is at hand. The two great doors of the Inland Seas have been opened wide. At one end is Duluth, at the other Buffalo. Chicago is great, Buffalo may be greater. Pittsburg, like ancient Rome, feels that hers is to be a reign unbroken, and that she will still be “Pittsburg, Queen of the World of Steel” until the last call of Judgment Day. In another ten years – perhaps in less time – she will recognise the power of her rival in the North.

These are predictions, but they are well founded. To find just why they are made, one must go among the powerful men of the Lakes, among the iron barons of the North and the coal barons of the South and East – must, in short, become acquainted with the entire commercial and industrial mechanism which exists on the Great Lakes to-day. They are not predictions that can be arrived at from New York, or San Francisco, or London, or Liverpool. One must talk with the men who make them, must live among those commercial and industrial conditions for a long time, and must know at first hand the two cities we speak of – Buffalo and Duluth. They are predictions which have a solid foundation of facts, and these facts are what make these two cities the most interesting as well as the most important ports in the Western World, with the exception of New York City. I venture to say that only a ridiculously small percentage of our own people – of Americans, whose very existence as an industrial and commercial power depends largely upon the Lakes – know these two cities beyond their names, their location, and possibly the number of their inhabitants. How many, for instance, know that to-day Duluth is the second greatest freight-shipping port on earth; that London, the capital of the British Empire, queen of the world’s commerce for many years, has abdicated in favour of a port so remote from the heart of British commercial enterprise that it is doubtful if fifty thousand of the five million people of London have ever heard of the name of the city which has taken the place of the world’s metropolis in the list of the great harbours of the world? And how many know, as well, that within a single night’s ride of the city of Buffalo – within a radius of less than five hundred miles – live sixty per cent. of the total population of North America?

These are only two of the remarkable facts about Buffalo and Duluth, the Alpha and Omega of the Inland Seas. That they are now two of the greatest freight-distributing points in the United States is shown by figures; that within the next generation they will become the two greatest distributing cities in the world is almost a certainty. It is not only Lake commerce that assures their destinies. Logically, they are situated to rule the world of commerce in the United States. Duluth is approximately midway in the continent, with a clear waterway soon to reach to the ocean, and with the great West behind her already webbed, with Duluth as the centre, by thirty-seven thousand miles of rail; and Buffalo, with sixty million people within five hundred miles of her City Hall, with fifteen great trunk-lines entering the city, with the greatest electrical power of the age at her doors, with “one hand on the ocean and the other on the Inland Seas,” holds a position which no other city can ever hope to attain. According to H. C. Elwood, Chairman of the Transportation Committee of the Chamber of Commerce of Buffalo, the combined rail and water tonnage of that city is not exceeded by that of any other city in the United States, with the exception of Pittsburg. And the story of Buffalo’s commerce has just begun. In 1885, Buffalo’s total tonnage of iron ore received by Lake was only a little more than eight thousand, – less than the single cargo carried by one of the great freighters of the Inland Seas to-day! Last year it was five and a half millions. The position that both Buffalo and Duluth hold in the commerce of the Lakes is briefly told in figures. Of the total tonnage of ninety-seven million carried on the Lakes in 1907, more than fourteen and a half million were registered at Buffalo and thirty-five million at Duluth-Superior. In other words, over a half of the total tonnage of the Lakes passed in or out of these two great doors of the Inland Seas in 1907.

There are few cities in the world to-day in which romance and adventure have combined in more extraordinary ways with calamity, failure, and indomitable courage than in the upbuilding of Duluth. Chiselled back into the rocky hillsides, terrace upon terrace, and stretching for miles along the bay front where only a quarter of a century ago was the wild and rugged grandeur of virgin wilderness; built upon rock, and in rock; looking down upon one of the finest harbours in the world on one hand, and up over vast regions red with iron treasure on the other, Duluth is one of the most beautiful cities in the United States – one of the most wonderful and most interesting. Twenty-five years ago, only a village marked this stronghold of the iron barons. The deer, the wolf, the bear, the moose roamed unafraid over places now alive with commercial activity. Into the vast unexplored wildernesses, even less than a dozen years ago, prospectors went out with their packs and their guns, and searched and starved and even died for the “ugly wealth” hidden in the ranges that are now giving to the world three quarters of its iron and steel. And to-day many of these same men, “whose callouses of the old prospecting days have hardly worn away,” live in a city of eighty thousand people, whose annual receipts from its industries aggregate fifty-five million dollars, and whose invested wealth is over one hundred and fifty millions. While London, Liverpool, Hamburg, Antwerp, Hong-kong, and Marseilles have had eyes for New York alone in this Western World, while the ports of ancient and historic renown have been struggling among themselves for supremacy, away up at the end of the Lake Superior wilderness the second greatest freight-shipping port in the world was building itself, quietly, unobtrusively, unknown. That is the story of Duluth in a nutshell.

But it is only the first chapter. The others will be written even more quickly, perhaps with even greater results. The commerce of America’s five Inland Seas has but just commenced, and the growth of this commerce and the growth of Duluth go hand in hand. In 1892, for instance, only four thousand tons of ore were shipped from the Duluth-Superior harbour; in 1907, including the sub-port of Two Harbours, the total was nearly thirty millions! And this same percentage of increase holds good with other products. Fifteen years ago very few people along our seaboards would have recognised the name of Duluth; to those who knew the town it was often an object of ridicule – the “pricked balloon,” the “town of blasted hopes.” Yet in 1907, this same town, still unknown in a large sense, handled one sixth of the combined tonnage of all the two hundred and forty shipping ports on the coast of the United States. During the two hundred and fifty days of navigation in 1907, an average of fifty-six vessels entered or left Duluth each day, or one ship every twenty-six minutes, day and night, for eight months. These vessels carried cargoes valued at two hundred and eighty-eight million dollars. In other words, over a million dollars a day left or entered Duluth-Superior harbour.

Not long ago a writer who was seeking information on the possibilities of our inland waterways asked me what would happen when, as experts predicted, the ore of the North became exhausted. “Where will Duluth be then?” he questioned. This is what nine people out of ten ask, who are at all interested in the future of Duluth. There seems to be an almost universal opinion among people who do not live along the Lakes that, with the exhaustion of the great iron deposits, the commerce of our Inland Seas will dwindle. A more near-sighted supposition than this could hardly be imagined. At the present time ore is the greatest object of commerce on the Great Lakes, and it will continue to be so for many years. It is safe to say that the day is not far distant when fifty million tons of iron ore, instead of thirty million, will leave Duluth each year; and at the same time millions of tons of steel will be leaving by rail. But Duluth’s great future does not rest on iron and steel alone. As I have said, thirty-seven thousand miles of rail already reach out from the city into the vast agricultural regions of the West. It is the one logical doorway of the vast empire at its back, to which it offers the cheapest and shortest route to the Atlantic and Europe; just as it must become the great distributing point through which the bulk of the vast commerce of the East will flow into the West. There is more agricultural and grazing land tributary to it than to any other port in America. And Minnesota is still one of the great timber States of the country in spite of the vast scale on which lumber operations have been carried on within its boundaries during the past few years. Lake, Cook, and other northern counties (several of these counties are each as large as a small State) possess great forest wealth, and for many years to come Duluth will be the great lumber-shipping port of the Lakes.

These are a few of the reasons why Duluthians see in their city a future metropolis of perhaps a million people.

Though a large part of the almost endless fertile regions behind it are still undeveloped, Duluth has already become the great grain-shipping port of the world. In 1907, over eighty million bushels of grain were shipped from the Duluth-Superior harbour, or a bushel for every man, woman, and child in the United States. There was a time when it was thought that Chicago would always be the greatest grain port on earth. But that time has passed. Of the grain received at Buffalo in 1907, less than forty-two million bushels came from Chicago, while more than sixty-three million were shipped from Duluth-Superior. And this grain traffic is growing even more rapidly than the ore traffic. Ships can hardly be built fast enough to handle the volumes of wheat, oats, barley, and flax that come by rail into Duluth. The city can handle one thousand cars a day, or a million bushels, and yet this is not fast enough. So great is the crush at times that cars of grain are lost for three weeks in the yards! In the not distant future, Duluth will be handling two thousand cars a day. Not only wheat, oats, corn, rye, and barley are pouring into Duluth from the West, but she has now taken first place as shipper of flaxseed, nearly twenty million bushels having left Duluth-Superior harbour last year. Just what this quantity of flaxseed means very few people unacquainted with that product can realise. Take the four hundred thousand bushels brought down to Buffalo by the D. R. Hanna in a single trip, for instance. It was loaded in seven hours and was the product of forty thousand acres, or sixty-two square miles. It was worth $460,000, and would make one million gallons of linseed oil.

Probably the most memorable day in the history of Duluth was April 1, 1907, for on that day official notice was received from New York that the Steel Corporation had decided to establish an iron and steel plant in Duluth. At first it was planned to cost ten million dollars. Now it is believed that much more than this will be expended. Preliminary work has already commenced, and within a year and a half it is expected that the plant will be in operation. This movement on the part of the great corporation that rules the world of steel is for several reasons the most interesting that it has ever made. For years, the ore of the North has been carried a thousand miles to the smelters of the East. To reach Pittsburg, it was not only transported that thousand miles, but was loaded three times and unloaded three times. And, meantime, while millions of dollars were being expended on the transportation of ore, while cities half-way across the continent existed and were growing because of their smelters, the city of Duluth, with the vast iron deposits at her back door, was not making a ton of steel. This is one of the mysteries which the Steel Corporation does not explain; but it is fair to assume that hitherto there has not been a sufficient market for the products of such a plant within paying reach of this port.

The new plant will bring thirty thousand people to Duluth – and this is not the end. Those who are acquainted with the situation say that it is but the first step in the making of a second Pittsburg. “The steel industry,” they say, “brought almost a million people and billions of dollars to Pittsburg – a city a thousand miles from its ore, and without natural advantages. What, then, will it mean to Duluth, with its strategic position on the great highways of commerce, with its cheap water-power, and above all with its ore ready to be dumped direct from the mine cars into the smelters?”

In short, the dreams of Duluth’s old “boomers” are coming true. The great East, with its railroad and manufacturing development, has been supplied with its steel – from Pittsburg. Now it is the West and South-west, and the Orient, to which our great volumes of steel trade will turn. It is Duluth’s chance. Because the ore is at her doors, she can turn out iron and steel cheaper than any other city in the world; and she is the nearest distributing point to the West. This movement to Duluth is inevitable. The world’s steel industry has been constantly moving and changing. Since 1564, the centre of the industry has moved from Birmingham, England, from Lynn through Connecticut to New Jersey, then to Philadelphia, and lastly to Pittsburg, where it has remained for fifty years. Of late years, the tendency has been westward, the movement culminating in Chicago. Now it is centring in Duluth. In a way, Duluth’s history will be similar to that of Pittsburg. Duluth and Superior, twin cities with one harbour and identical interests, cannot follow the example of Pittsburg and Allegheny, and unite politically, as State lines divide them, Duluth being in Minnesota and Superior in Wisconsin; but commercially they are fast becoming one. Together they will not only head the ports of the world, probably for all time to come, but will become one of the greatest manufacturing centres on the continent. With a harbour frontage of forty-five miles, with electrical power from the St. Louis Falls second only to that of Niagara, with iron and steel at her doors, and with a world-market behind her, Duluth, already the largest coal-receiving port in the world, possesses manufacturing advantages beyond those of any other city on the continent, with the exception of Buffalo. There are good reasons why this coming Pittsburg of the North will never equal Buffalo in population and commercial activity; there are just as good reasons why no other city in the United States, with the exception of New York and Chicago, will equal Buffalo. At the same time, as a member of the Steel Corporation said to me: “If steel and only a few natural advantages made Pittsburg what it is – what will steel, and all the natural advantages in the world, do for Duluth?”

Of course it is not possible to conceive that Duluth, even as a great steel city, would use more than a small fraction of the enormous ore tonnage that is annually taken from the Minnesota ranges. If millions of dollars were spent each year in the erection of new steel plants in Duluth, even the annual increase of ore taken from the mines could not be used at home for a long time to come. The ore traffic on the Lakes is bound to become larger even as Duluth develops into a steel city. And a constantly increasing percentage of this ore is going to Buffao – not to be transhipped to Pittsburg, but to be converted into iron and steel in that city. I believe that very few people are aware of the fact that Buffalo is already an important iron- and steel-making plant. The largest independent steel-making plant in the United States is now in operation in South Buffalo. This is the Lackawanna Iron and Steel Company, capitalized at sixty million dollars, employing between six and ten thousand men, and undergoing constant enlargement. The plants of the New York Steel Company and the Wickwire Steel Company are now in course of construction on the Buffalo and Niagara rivers, and other steel- and iron-making plants are in operation. Each year sees Buffalo drawing more and more ore away from the Pittsburg smelters. In 1900, Buffalo made only three hundred and seventy thousand tons of pig-iron. In 1907, the production was one million three hundred and fifty thousand tons, and in 1909 there will be a considerable increase. A recent investigation showed that the many great iron-producing and iron-working plants which extend along the navigable waters of the Buffalo have doubled their pay-rolls and almost trebled their production since 1900. The same investigation brought forth the fact that a ton of foundry iron can be produced in Buffalo for sixty-three cents less than in Pittsburg. After a year’s study of the situation in Buffalo, Mr. Elisha Walker, the international expert in iron and steel manufacture, said that, in a few years, Buffalo would rival Pittsburg in the use of iron ore.

While steel plants are generally the most powerful agents that work for the increase of a city’s population and wealth, and while it is true that scores of smaller users of iron and steel are flocking to Buffalo, just as other hundreds grouped themselves about the big parent furnaces in Pittsburg, Buffalo’s great future does not depend upon her development as a steel-manufacturing city. As F. Howard Mason, then Secretary of the Buffalo Chamber of Commerce, said to me: “Buffalo has more than one iron in the fire. Steel is but one of many things that will make her a city of millions a quarter of a century from now.”

From my own investigations and from my own close study of Lake traffic, I feel confident in saying that, although Buffalo is one of the important ore-converting centres of the country, steel and iron are not the most important of the agents that will work for her future greatness. This may seem inconceivable to those who live in cities the very existence of which depends upon iron and steel; yet it is one of the soundest arguments for the optimistic opinion that Buffalo is destined to become the third, if not the second, largest city in the United States. Just as Duluth is the logical shipping and receiving port of the West, so is Buffalo the great receiving and distributing port of the East. Cleveland will always be an important Lake port, but it is impossible to compare its destiny with that of Buffalo. With the new Erie Canal in operation, lake highways from west to east will lead to Buffalo as surely as all roads led to old Rome. This year the total tonnage of Buffalo harbour, which is closed for at least four months of the year, will be considerably greater than that of Liverpool. Of the products passing through the Detroit River in 1907, ninety per cent. of the hard coal was shipped from Buffalo, seventy-five per cent. of the flour and ninety-five per cent. of the wheat came to Buffalo; also seventy-five per cent. of the corn, ninety-eight per cent. of the oats, ninety per cent. of the flaxseed, and ninety-five per cent. of the barley. In other words, Buffalo may be regarded as almost the only receiving port on the Lakes for Western grain.

Mayor Adams hit the nail pretty squarely on the head when he said that Buffalo’s future greatness rests chiefly upon the fact that this city will, within a very few years, be the greatest converting, or manufacturing, point in North America. The cost of bringing raw materials to her workshops from all Western points is already reduced to a minimum. The Erie Canal will link her mills with the ocean. The unlimited resources of Niagara furnish her with the cheapest power in the world. Her proximity to the coal-fields provides her with fuel for $1.60 to $2.60 per ton. Natural gas for manufacturing purposes is retailed at a little over twenty-seven cents per thousand cubic feet. And, above all, there are sixty millions of people within five hundred miles of her City Hall. It was between 1900 and 1905 when Buffalo really awoke to her unlimited opportunities. It is interesting to compare her growth between those years with that of Pittsburg, one of the most progressive cities in the United States. In that time Pittsburg’s capital increased twenty-two per cent., Buffalo’s forty-six per cent. The number of wage-earners in Pittsburg increased a little over two per cent., while in Buffalo they increased twenty-nine per cent. The value of Pittsburg’s products increased three per cent.; of Buffalo’s, forty-two per cent. These figures show the remarkable rapidity with which Buffalo is overtaking the cities ahead of her in population.

Because of the waterways at her door, cheap power, and the millions of consumers within a night’s reach of her mills, Buffalo has become the second city in the United States in the production of flour, now ranking next to Minneapolis, and at her present rate of increase she will be the world’s greatest milling centre in another five years. In 1901, she was producing only about half a million barrels of flour; in 1907, her product was over three million barrels, and it is predicted that the output in 1909 will be four millions. Within the last three years Buffalo has become the chief malting city in America. In 1907, her output was ten million bushels as compared with four million in 1900.

To handle her Lake freight at the present time, Buffalo has twenty-four elevators with a total storage capacity of twenty-two million bushels, and a daily elevating capacity of six million bushels; nine ore docks; five coal trestles with a daily loading capacity of twenty-two thousand tons – and with these might be included three railroad storage-yards with an aggregate capacity of four hundred thousand tons. Thirteen lines of steamships, not including the many companies represented by the big freighters, ply the Lakes from Buffalo; and the fifteen trunk lines centring in the city provide two hundred and fifty-three passenger trains a day. With all of this vast machinery working night and day to care for Buffalo’s present traffic, the question naturally arises, What will happen to Buffalo when the new Erie Canal links her with the sea?

During the next decade, or less, Buffalo will astonish the whole world by her industrial growth. The effects of the canal project are already being felt, and manufacturing capital is hurrying to Buffalo as never before. The Federal Government is deepening the Niagara River to a depth of twenty-one feet as far down as North Tonawanda, and this, together with the deepening of the Buffalo River, is opening up a new territory for factory sites, soon to be accessible to the largest ships. Millions of dollars of capital are locating, or planning to locate, here. On the one side is the cheap transportation of the Lakes; on the other will soon be the “man-made river reaching to the sea.” With the joining of these waterways no other city in the United States will be able to compete with Buffalo as a manufacturing centre.

The actual task of digging the new canal for which the people of New York voted one hundred and one million dollars, and which will connect Buffalo with tidewater by a thousand-ton waterway, is now at hand. Few people realise just how stupendous this task is. While every intelligent American is acquainted with the Panama Canal project, few know that this connecting link between the Lakes and the ocean is a greater public improvement for the State of New York to carry out than is the building of the Panama Canal for the United States Government, and it is of hardly less commercial value. Its cost will be greater than that of Suez, and in a short time its tonnage will be more than that of Suez. The first one hundred and twenty-five miles were under contract in January, 1908, with another sixty-five miles ready to be contracted for.

This great waterway, including the Hudson River, will pass from or to and through the city of New York and adjacent cities in New Jersey, Poughkeepsie, Albany, Troy, Schenectady, Utica, Syracuse, Oswego, Rochester, and Buffalo, besides smaller towns, possessing an aggregate population of over six million. The canal when completed will really terminate at Tonawanda, on the Niagara River, the route to Buffalo from there being via the Niagara River, the federal ship canal, and the Erie Basin. While the old canal has a depth of only from seven to nine feet and a width on the bottom of fifty-two, the new waterway will have a uniform depth of twelve feet, with a minimum width at the bottom of seventy-five feet, thus being capable of carrying boats one hundred and fifty feet long, twenty-five feet beam, and with a draft of ten feet. The present capacity of an Erie Canal boat is two hundred and forty tons, while the new boats will carry a thousand tons.

I have shown in preceding articles what a tremendous saving to the people of the United States is made because of Lake transportation, and this will be greatly increased by the new canal. Large aggregations of capital will own not merely Lake vessels, but terminals and canal fleets as well, so that from Lake ports they can name a through freight rate to New York or to foreign countries. Within a few years after its completion, the canal will probably be carrying twenty million tons of freight from Buffalo to the ocean. Taking this figure as a basis, it is easy to figure what a tremendous saving the canal will bring about. It now costs three and a half cents a bushel to send grain from Buffalo to New York. The new canal rate should be not more than a cent a bushel. On twenty million bushels of grain this means a saving of five hundred thousand dollars, which will either go into the pockets of the producer or the consumer or be divided between the two. Freight of all descriptions, manufactured products, and iron and steel, can be transported from Buffalo to tidewater for half of a mill per ton per mile. In other words, on the new canal all kinds of freight can be shipped from Buffalo to New York, a distance of four hundred and forty-six miles, at twenty-two cents per ton. The present cost is eighty-seven cents. On twenty million tons this saving of nearly sixty-five cents a ton would total nearly thirteen million dollars.

What this would mean to Buffalo it is almost impossible to estimate, especially in regard to the steel industry. Buffalo now has an advantage over Pittsburg in the cost of ore, limestone, and several other matters incident to the manufacture of iron and steel, Pittsburg’s sole remaining advantage being its proximity to coking coal. This will be obliterated. A large percentage of the vast steel and allied industries centring at Pittsburg will, of their own volition, move within the boundaries of the State of New York and locate along the Niagara frontier. This industrial migration has already begun. It will continue, naturally, ceaselessly. The ore will meet the coke at Buffalo, and the manufactured product will be floated down the Erie Canal instead of being hauled across the Alleghanies. This is inevitable.

And just as inevitable is the migration of other industries to Buffalo from other cities. Not only does the cheap lake and canal transportation call to them, but also the cheap and unlimited power of Niagara. A few years ago George Westinghouse said: “I expect to live to see the day when a city that will astonish the world will stretch along the entire Niagara frontier – and this city will be Buffalo.” Those who investigate this frontier to-day cannot fail to see the strength of his prediction. Tesla said that Niagara power would revolutionise manufacturing in the United States. It is already revolutionising it in and about Buffalo, and the power of the world’s greatest fall has only been tapped. On the American side the Niagara Falls Power Company is developing one hundred and five thousand horse-power, and the Niagara Falls Hydraulic Power and Manufacturing Company fifty thousand, while on the Canadian side the Canadian Niagara Falls Company is developing fifty thousand horse-power and the Electrical Development Company and the Ontario Power Company sixty-two thousand each. Less than four per cent. of the total flow of water over Niagara Falls has been diverted by the companies now in operation. The total fall of water is theoretically capable of producing over seven million horse-power, which would run virtually all of the manufacturing plants in the United States.

At the present time about seventy-five thousand electrical horse-power is consumed in Buffalo by manufacturing and mercantile establishments. What this cheap power means to the city can best be shown in figures. In nearly all cities the power required for manufacturing purposes is derived from steam produced from coal. In its simplest form this method of generating power requires apparatus consisting of steam boilers with their settings, pumps, steam-pipings, flues and stack, facilities for coal-storage, engines, foundations, and beltings – demanding altogether a large amount of floor-space. The cost of an installation of such equipment has been found to be approximately fifty dollars per rated horse-power. Electric motors using Niagara power can be installed for less than thirty dollars per rated horse-power. In other words, the saving in power to the manufacturer is almost one half. On the other hand, a steam plant requires a considerable force of men to operate and maintain it, while electrical power cuts down this service two thirds.

Why manufacturers are flocking to Buffalo, and why the greatest manufacturing city in the world is bound to extend along the Niagara frontier, is graphically shown by the following figures comparing the cost of Buffalo power with that of other representative cities. Assuming the maximum power used to be one hundred horse-power, the number of working hours a day to be ten, and the “load factor,” or average power actually used, to be seventy-five per cent. of the total one hundred, the cost per month in the cities named is about as follows:

These figures show that the manufacturer on the Niagara frontier not only possesses the cheapest water-power in the country, but that his power costs him less than half as much as it cost his next nearest rival, the manufacturer at Pittsburg. While power costs his Boston competitor a hundred and fifty dollars per horse-power per year, the Buffalo manufacturer pays less than thirty dollars. Even without cheap transportation rates, this item alone would give him an overwhelming advantage in the race for trade.

Destined to be one of the greatest if not the greatest manufacturing city on earth, Buffalo is also one of the most beautiful. To-day she possesses four hundred miles of asphalt pavement – more smooth pavement than is found in Paris, Washington, or any other city. She is the greatest “home city” in America. Out of a population of more than four hundred thousand people, the home-owning population is only thirty thousand below the total registered vote. As a convention city she has only one rival, and that is Detroit. Nature has showered blessings upon her without stint. And I confidently believe that many of the young men and women of Buffalo will live to see the day when one city will stretch along the entire Niagara frontier, with a population exceeded by that of only one or at most two other American cities.

VII

A Trip on a Great Lakes Freighter

In my previous chapters I have described nearly every phase of Lake shipping, with the exception of one, which, while not being vitally concerned with the story of our fresh-water marine, is still one of the most interesting, and perhaps the least known of all. That is the “inner life” of one of our Great Lakes freighters; the life of the crew and the favoured few who are privileged to travel as passenger guests of the owners upon one of these steel monsters of the Inland Seas. In more than one way our Lake marine is unusual; in this it is unique.

Recently one of the finest steel yachts that ever sailed fresh water came up the St. Lawrence to the Lakes. Its owner was a millionaire many times over. With his wife he had cruised around the world, but for the first time they had come to the Lakes. I had the fortune to converse with him upon his yacht about the craft of other countries, and as we lay at anchor in the Detroit River there passed us the greatest ship on the Inland Seas – the Thomas F. Cole; and, addressing his wife, I asked, “How would you like to take a cruise on a vessel like that?”

The lady laughed, as if such a suggestion were amusing indeed, and said that if she were a man she might attempt it, and perhaps enjoy it to a degree, and when I went on to describe some of the things that I knew about “those great, ugly ships,” as she called them, I am quite sure that all of my words were not received without doubt. This little experience was the last of many that proved to me the assertion I have made before – that to nine people out of ten, at least, our huge, silent, red ships that bring down the wealth of the North are a mystery. They are not beautiful. Freighted low down, their steel sides scraped and marred like the hands of a labourer, their huge funnels emitting clouds of bituminous smoke, their barren steel decks glaring in the heat of the summer sun, there seems to be but little about them to attract the pleasure seeker. From the distance at which they are usually seen their aft and forward cabins appear like coops, their pilot houses even less.

Yet fortunate is the person who has the “pull” to secure passage on one of these monster carriers of the Lakes, for behind all of that uninviting exterior there is a luxury of marine travel that is equalled nowhere else in the world except on the largest and finest of private yachts. These leviathans of the Lakes, that bring down dirty ore and take up dirtier coal, are the greatest money-makers in the world, and they are owned by men of wealth. The people who travel on them are the owner’s guests. Nothing is too good for them. Each year the rivalry between builders is increasing as to whose ships shall possess the finest “guests’ quarters.” Behind the smoke and dirt and unseemly red steel that are seen from shore or deck, a fortune has been spent in those rooms over the small doors of which one reads the word “Owners.” You may climb up the steel side of the ship, you may explore it from stem to stern, but not until you are a “guest” – not until the “key to the ship” has been handed to you, are its luxuries, its magnificence, its mysteries, clearly revealed.

My telegram read:

“Take my private room on the Harry Berwind at Ashtabula.”

It was signed by G. Ashley Tomlinson, of Duluth. The Berwind is one of the finest of Tomlinson’s sixteen steel ships and is named after one of the best known fuel transportation men on the Lakes – a vessel that can carry eleven thousand tons without special crowding and makes twelve miles an hour while she is doing it. I reached the great ore and coal docks at Ashtabula at a happy moment.

The other guests had arrived, seven in all – four ladies and three gentlemen, and we met on the red and black dock, with mountains of ore and coal about us, with the thundering din of working machines in our ears, and out there before us, enshrouded in smoke and black dust, the great ship that was to carry us for nearly a thousand miles up the Lakes and back again. It was a happy moment, I say, for I met the seven guests in this wilderness of din and dirt —and six of them had never been aboard a freighter in their lives. They had heard, of course, what lay beyond those red steel walls. But was there not a mistake here? Was it possible —

Doubt filled their faces. High above them towered the straight wall of the ship with a narrow ladder reaching down to them. At the huge coal derricks whole cars of coal were being lifted up as if they were no more than scuttles in the hands of a strong man and their contents sent thundering into the gaping hatches; black dust clouded the air, settling in a thousand minute particles on fabric and flesh; black-faced men shouted and worked at the loading machine; the crash of shunting cars came interminably from the yards; and upon it all the sun beat fiercely, and the air that entered our nostrils seemed thick – thick with the dust and grime and heat of it all. A black-faced, sweating man, who was the mate, leaned over the steel side high above us and motioned us aft, and the seven guests hurried through the thickness of the air, the ladies shuddering and cringing as the cars of coal thundered high over their heads, until they came to the big after port with a plank laid to the dock. Up this they filed, their faces betraying more doubt, more uneasiness, more discomfort as hot blasts of furnace air surged against them; then up a narrow iron stair, through a door – and out there before them lay the ship, her thirty hatches yawning like caverns, and everywhere coal – and coal dust. The ladies gasped and drew their dresses tightly about them as they were guided along the narrow promenade between the edge of the ship and the open hatches, and at last they were halted before one of those doors labelled “Owners.”

Then the change! It came so suddenly that it fairly took the breath away from those who had never been on a freighter before. The guests filed through that narrow door into a great room, which a second glance showed them to be a parlour. Their feet sank in the noiseless depths of rich velvet carpet; into their heated faces came the refreshing breaths of electric fans; great upholstered chairs opened to them welcomingly; the lustre of mahogany met their eyes, and magazines and books and papers were ready for them in profusion. To us there now came the thunder of the coal as if from afar; here was restfulness and quiet – through the windows we could see the dust and smoke and heat hovering about the ship like a pall.

This was the general parlour into which we had been ushered; and now I hung close behind the ship’s guests, watching and enjoying the amazement that continued to grow in them. From each side of the parlour there led a narrow hall and on each side of each hall there was a large room – the guest-chambers – and at the end of each hall there was a bathroom; and in the bedrooms, with their brass beds, their rich tapestries and curtains, our feet still sank in velvet carpet, our eyes rested upon richly cushioned chairs – everywhere there was the luxury and wealth of appointment that a millionaire had planned for the favoured few whom he called his guests.

Now I retired from the guest-chambers to my own private room. I am going a good deal into detail in this description of the guests’ quarters of a great freighter like the Berwind, for I remember once being told by a shipbuilder of the Clyde that he “could hardly believe that such a thing existed,” and I know there are millions of others who have the same doubts. The forward superstructure of a Great Lakes freighter might be compared to a two-story house, with the pilot-house still on top of that; and from the luxurious quarters of the “first story,” which in the Berwind are on a level with the deck of the vessel, a velvet-carpeted stair led to the “observation room” – a great, richly furnished room with many windows in it, from which one may look out upon the sea in all directions except behind. And from this room one door led into the Captain’s quarters, and another into the private suite of rooms which I was fortunate enough to occupy on this trip. The finest hotel in the land could not have afforded finer conveniences than this black and red ship, smothered in the loading of ten thousand tons of coal. In the cool seclusion of its passenger quarters a unique water-works system gave hot and cold water to every room; an electric light plant aft gave constant light, and power for the fans. Nothing was wanting, even to a library and music, to make of the interior of this forward part of the ship a palace fit for the travel of a king. Within a few minutes we had all plunged into baths; hardly were we out and dressed when the steward came with glasses of iced lemonade; and even as the black clouds of grime and dirt still continued to settle over the ship we gathered in the great observation room, a happy party of us now, and the music of mandolin and phonograph softened the sounds of labour that rumbled to us from outside.

Then, suddenly, there fell a quiet. The ship was loaded. Loud voices rose in rapid command, the donkey-engines rumbled and jerked as their cables dragged the steel hatch-covers into place, and the freighter’s whistle echoed in long, sonorous blasts in its call for a tug. And then, from half a mile away, came the shrieking reply of one of those little black giants, and up out of the early sunset gloom of evening it raced in the maelstrom of its own furious speed, and placed itself ahead of us, for all the world like a tiny ant tugging away at a prey a hundred times its size. Lights sprung up in a thousand places along shore, and soon, far away, appeared the blazing eye of the harbour light, and beyond that stretched the vast opaqueness of the “thousand-mile highway” that led to Duluth and the realms of the iron barons of the North. Once clear, and with the sea before us, the tug dropped away, a shudder passed through the great ship as her engines began to work, our whistle gave vent to two or three joyous, triumphant cheers, and our journey had begun.

It was then that our steward’s pretty little wife, Mrs. Brooks, appeared, smiling, cool, delightfully welcome, and announced that dinner was ready, and that this time we must pardon them for being late. Out upon the steel decks men were already flushing off with huge lengths of hose, the ship’s lights were burning brilliantly, and from far aft, nearly a tenth of a mile away, there came the happy voice of a deckhand singing in the contentment of a full stomach and the beautiful freshness of the night. Not more than a dozen paces from our own quarters was a narrow deckhouse which ran the full length of the hatches – the guests’ private dining-room. It was now ablaze with light, and here another and even greater surprise was in store for those of our party who were strangers to the hospitality which one receives aboard a Great Lakes freighter. The long table, running nearly the length of the room, glittered with silver, and was decorated with fruits and huge vases of fresh flowers, and at the head of the table stood the steward’s wife, all smiles and dimples and good cheer, appointing us to our seats as we came in. On these great ore and grain and coal carriers of the Inland Seas, the stewards and their wives, unlike those in most other places, possess responsibilities other than those of preparing and serving food. They are, in a way, the host and hostess of the guests, and must make them comfortable – and “at home.” On a few vessels, like the Berwind, there are both forward and aft stewards, with their assistants, who in many instances are their wives. The forward steward, like our Mr. Brooks, is the chief, and buys for the whole ship and watches that the aft steward does his work properly. Outside of this he devotes himself entirely to the vessel’s guests, and is paid about one hundred dollars a month and all expenses, while his wife gets thirty dollars for doing it. So he must be good. The stewards of Lake freighters are usually those who have “graduated” ashore, for even the crews of the Lakes are the best fed people in the world. Mr. Brooks, for instance, had not only won his reputation in some of the best hotels in the land, but his books on cooking are widely known, and especially along the fresh-water highways. I mention these facts because they show another of the little known and unusual phases of life in our Lake marine. For breakfast, dinner, and supper the tables in the crew’s mess-room are loaded with good things; very few hotels give the service that is found in the passengers’ dining-room.

Thus, from the very beginning, one meets with the unusual and the surprising on board one of these big steel ships of the Lakes. While towns and cities and the ten thousand vessels of the seas are sweeping past, while for a thousand miles the scenes are constantly changing – from thickly populated country to virgin wilderness, from the heat of summer on Erie to the chill of autumn on Superior, – the vessel itself remains a wonderland to the one who has never taken the trip before. From the huge refrigerator, packed with the choicest meats, with gallons of olives and relishes, baskets of fruits and vegetables – from this to the deep “under-water dungeons” where the furnaces roar night and day and where black and sweating men work like demons, something new of interest is always being found.

For the first day, while the steel decks are being scrubbed so clean that one might lie upon them without soiling himself, the passengers may spend every hour in exploring the mysteries of the ship without finding a dull moment. Under the aft deck-houses, where the crew eat and sleep, are what the sailors call the “bowels of the ship,” and here, as is not the case on ocean craft, the passenger may see for the first time in his life the wonderful, almost appalling, mechanism that drives a great ship from port to port, for it must be remembered that the “passenger” here is a guest – the guest of the owner whose great private yacht the great ship is, in a way, and everything of interest will be shown to him if he wishes. Of the bottom of this part of the ship the “brussels-carpet guest” – as sailors call the passenger who is taking a trip on a freighter for the first time – stands half in terror. There is the dim light of electricity down here, the roaring of the furnaces, the creaking and groaning of the great ship, and high above one’s head, an interminable distance away it seems, one may see where day begins. Everywhere there is the rumbling and crashing of machinery, the dizzy whirling of wheels, the ceaseless pumping of steel arms as big around as trees; and up and up and all around there wind narrow stairways and gratings, on which men creep and climb to guard this heart action of the ship’s life. The din is fearful, the heat in the furnace-room insufferable, and when once each half-minute a furnace door is opened for fresh fuel, and writhing torrents of fire and light illumine the gloomy depths, the tenderfoot passenger looks up nervously to where his eyes catch glimpses of light and freedom far above him. And then, in the explanation of all this – in the reason for these hundreds of tons of whirling, crashing, thundering steel – there comes the greatest surprise of all. For all of this giant mechanism is to perform just one thing – and that is to whirl and whirl and whirl an insignificant-looking steel rod, which is called a shaft, and at the end of which, in the sea behind the ship, is the screw – a thing so small that one stands in amazement, half doubting that this is the instrument which sends a ten-thousand-ton ship and ten thousand tons of cargo through the sea at twelve miles an hour!