At this point it seems that the role of "adventure" is coalescing around tales of the West, stories of sea travel, and perhaps most fundamentally, imperialism. The importance of indigenous presence, whether acknowledged or projected has been the denied obsession of this collection (evident in stories by Davis, White, Russell, Harte). That continues with Frank H. Spearman's "The Run of the Yellow Mail," a simple tale of the young little engineer who could. Except, well, that engineer needed some Sioux people to risk their lives for his safety.
The relationship between vigilantism and ambitious young men runs deep in the American imaginary. Often knowing what is "right," in the moral sense, comes to a head with professional growth. Of course, the trick of narrative is to draw a narrow focus around what is right—i.e. Dirty Harry movies or the Deathwish series, rely on dominant logics of racism to promote their revenge stories. Thus what is shown to be "right" is, well, sculpted to hide everything wrong. Throughout the 80s and 90s Hollywood often relied on this logic as it smoothed out edges for blockbuster storylines.
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| The opening page to Spearman's story in May 1901 issue of McClure's Magazine |
The first sentence of Spearman's story establishes the dynamic between ambition and a kind of carelessness: "There wasn't another engineer on the division who dared talk to Doubleday the way Jimmie Bradshaw did." Alas this is not the story of a man trying to rewrite the rules of baseball nor is it treacherous depiction of the development of a major publisher. Bradshaw works on a train—he wants to try to a "fast-run." Old Doubleday, is one who, as a former teacher used to say "commands respect"; he doesn't "demand it." And he so refutes Jimmie's desire retorting "got your rights, ain't you?"
Jimmie may have his rights, at this time more than most, but he also carries with him a look colleagues find humorous. He was "nearly all red; hair, face, hands—they said his teeth were freckled." He aspires to be one who suffers no fools, but for now he is the company sack boy. Jimmie sees himself as part of something bigger: he is a player in the quickening and expanding postal service. There are demands that life move faster and these play out at a dinner between the postmaster-general and various railroad managers. Lest we think this is a story not interested in details-through-names, Spearman tells us that the men gathered at "Chamberlain's." I’m not sure what this is a reference to.
Needless to say faster routes become the plan. Despite his past Jimmie Bradshaw will try a fast-run.
In previous stories brief asides or jagged details have opened up the world. Spearman is known for writing about the railroad, despite having never worked on one. He was big small-town banker in Nebraska. It is hard not to see these details as a kind of overcompensation, as if Spearman thought he needed to prove his bonafides when it came to the topic.
This is evident in the mechanized description of the train and the various processes that result from the high speed. His account of the train is relayed through sensory experience. It is not just exhausting working on the train, it is deafening. Spearman writes: "what the new speed meant: the sickening slew, the lurch on lurch so fast that the engine never righted, the shortened breath along the tangent, the giddy roll to the elevation and the sudden shock of the curve, the roar of the flight on the ear, and, above it all, the booming purr of the maddened steel. The canoe in the heart of the rapids, the bridge of a liner at sea the gun in the heat of the fight, take something of this—the cab of the mail takes it all."
This wouldn't be a train story about speed if the whole cab line didn't almost fly off the rails. In the midst of the most difficult passages Sioux people aide the train’s route. This is not of any innocent obligation but as Spearman notes multiple time a deal for a "butt of plug tobacco." When the train finally reaches its destination, and Jimmie has completed his run, he argues with Doubleday. The exchange of life-risk for tobacco is only finalized through this dispute. I'm not quite sure what that means.
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| Frank H. Spearman |
Still, "The Run of the Yellow Mail" is the story of Jimmie Bradshaw. Spearman’s tale is about the transformation of one thrill seeking man. After this run Bradshaw decides he isn't too interested in making fast-runs on these kinds of trains anymore. However, he has proven himself to the company and to Doubleday. He is comfortable with himself. Gone are the murmurs that Bradshaw's teeth are freckled.
And gone is the name Bradshaw. In the final exchange of dialogue with Doubleday Bradshaw "spoke freckled words in the Sioux." What those words are we don't know. The concluding paragraph further endeavors to establish some bond that Spearman wants to draw between white folks and indigenous people. At the story's conclusion Jimmie Bradshaw is now called by a new name, one which, as Spearman writes, "the Sioux gave him:" Jimmie the Wind. As the page from McClures shows, the re-naming of Jimmie is made to be the point of interest for readers.
Spearman's fascination with Sioux people signals what has been a trend throughout these stories. It is indicative that none of the Sioux characters are given a name—instead the only Sioux name revealed is given to Jimmie Bradshaw. Indigenous people are turned into environmental ornamentation. While fundamental to the plot, their lives exist only as slivers of reference points.
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| A collection of stories about "railroad life" by Spearman (1901) |
The question here: of what value is it to read this story against its narrative where an ambitious young man finds and proves himself through use of Native language and labor? What would it mean to read this story with what art historian Krista Thompson following the artist Kara Walker would call a "sidelong glance?" Here we see the "butt of plug tobacco" and the naming of "Jimmie the Wind" less as complimentary revelations of intimacy and instead as negotiations within a genocidal landscape. This is evident in both the broader depiction of the violent expansion of the railroad and the way economy relies on turning bodies into machines. It is apparent in the small interactions like Jimmie calling the Sioux people "the blankets" in the final sequence.
So we return to where we began: "adventure," in this collection appears to refer to stories in which white folks orchestrate a way into harm's way and need non-white people to move forward. Where do we go from here?
You can read “The Run of the Yellow Mail,” included in the collection Held For Orders, at Project Gutenberg: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/34365
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