The Edison phonograph monthly (Jan-Dec 1912)

EDISON PHONOGRAPH MONTHLY FOR NOV., 1912 MR. EDISON'S FIRST TIME CARD Copyright, 1912, Thomas A. Edison, Inc. THE installation of a time clock in the laboratory gives us an opportunity to learn the facts concerning Mr. Edison's phenomenal capacity for work. Many tales have been told of his working day and night for hours at a stretch, but here we have a fac-simile of his time card for a full week, which shows that he worked ninetyfive hours and forty-nine minutes. And this is a "light" week in the sense that "the wizard" did not work Saturday night and Sunday as he frequently does. A little explanation will probably make the card itself intelligible. Beginning at the upper left hand corner we read across to the right. As Mr. Edison was in the laboratory when the clock was installed he could not "punch in" but "punched out" 8.16 Wednesday morning after working all Tuesday ^Pe'n" .NO J&/J& ^7 £.9Jg. ,9, No. / "E 7V/OA7&& ft. ££/<5o/V ' jWOSRIKO IOC* NOON H1SHT EXTRA EXTRA j *w >M OUT iN OUT IN OUT j 5316 :" : L i £311 jESss gs« • " ' i ' j £83? < 6. 5c 5 : i *"C.Si 5103 2144 S705 "-. ; . i i HE 5? ^sSi £SC3 «**. ^SSr/Ms^Bi/^^ 1AT6. »•.-... "..--.-«.».< » . night. Returning at 2.20 Wednesday afternoon he worked all night again and left the laboratory 8.11 Thursday morning. Thursday night he returned at 8 o'clock and repeated his performance of the previous night, as the card shows, he worked five nights out of seven, all of which gives rise to the suspicion that he has secretly invented a substitute for sleep. SAME STORE RE-VISITED To the Editor: I wrote you several months ago about my experience with a young clerk in a Dealer's store, and I said at that time that I would re-visit the place and find out where the fault lies as between the Dealer himself and the clerk. Well, I have done so, and I guess I owe the clerk a partial apology. I know now that he was following the "boss's" example, for I received about the same kind of treatment from him that I received from the clerk. There was no effort to interest me in any Records, other than the one I asked for. I came in as an absolute stranger, but he did not make any attempt to find out my name and address, whether I was on any other Dealer's mailing list, what kind of a machine I had, or any other point that a live Dealer would be sure to pick up before I got out of the place. I may mention, incidentally, that he did not have the first Record I asked for in stock. As in the case of my former visit, I was graciously permitted to stand as close to the Phonograph as I wished to. In fact, everything indicated very plainly that the young clerk was merely "a1 chip of the old block." Of course, I need not mention that there was not a Concert or an Amberola in the store, although I am very sure that the Dealer's territory includes many families that could easily afford to own these higher priced machines. While I was in another city not long ago, I saw a Dealer's window that nearly gave me nervous prostration. It was a dingy, dusty looking sort of place anyway, but what held the passer-by spellbound was an ancient Record Bulletin on which had been pasted a lot of pictures of Edison artists cut from other Record Bulletins. The whole affair fairly shouted to the house-tops that this Dealer did not have a new Record in the place. It was an invitation to go somewhere else if you wanted anything new, whether Records or Machines. Both of these Dealers seem to be of the good old fashion schools that think running a store consists in sticking up a sign and sitting down to wait for the populous to storm the place. The first one was certainly no salesman, for I had purposely waited until the store was empty before entering, and was careful not to give the impression that I was in a hurry. So there was no reason for his not attempting to at least find out something about my possibilities as a regular customer, except that it did not occur to him, or that he was not interested. I did not see the second Dealer as it was Sunday, but one look at that Record Bulletin and the dusty show window marked him as a commercial "stand patter" of the most unprogressive sort. The Vagabond.