418 



Popular Science Monthly 



Professional time-clock punchers operate the clocks for five 

 hundred longshoremen at the Bush Terminal, Brooklyn, N. Y. 



when pressed for time, and 

 as a rule they take the time 

 of five hundred laborers in 

 five minutes. This means 

 that instead of long lines 

 waiting at the windows, the 

 strings of men are short and 

 quick moving. Before each 

 clock is an open window and 

 above it is the sign indicat- 

 ing the numerals checked 

 there, from I to 250; from 

 250 to 500, etc., for the four 

 clocks will take care of 1 ,000 

 records. The stevedore 

 shows his brass check or 

 calls out his number as he 

 reaches the window. 



Experts Punch the Time Clock for 

 Slow Stevedores 



EVEN in this age of specialization it is 

 not considered necessary to hire an 

 expert to punch your time clock, that 

 detail being left to the worker in the 

 average industrial or commercial plant. 

 The operation seems simple enough. Merely 

 swing the indicator about the dial with 

 its circle of numbers, stop at the right 

 number and register your time by a swift 

 pressure of the hand. 



But if a plant employs a large number 

 of men it may be found economical to 

 employ not one but four expert time clock 

 punchers, operating as many instruments, 

 and the saving of working minutes 

 runs up into a total of days and 

 months in a short period. 



At the huge Bush Termi- 

 nal in Brooklyn, N. Y., five 

 hundred longshoremen are 

 employed every day on the 

 average, magnificently mus- 

 cled giants well fitted for 

 the work of juggling pig iron 

 and sacks of coffee, but with 

 finger tips far from delicate 

 and perhaps a bit slow. 

 Therefore it is about as well 

 as they can do to punch their 

 own time at the rate of six 

 or seven stevedores a minute. 

 With four clocks, that would 

 be twenty-eight a minute at 

 their maximum speed. 



The professional time- 

 clock punchers can handle 

 two hundred men a minute 



A Sanitary Dining Gar. No Hospital 

 Can Be Cleaner 



ANEW dining car on one of the western 

 railroads has some unique sanitary 

 features. The kitchen is ventilated so 

 thoroughly that dust and cinders cannot 

 enter the car. A continuous flushing ar- 

 rangement keeps the receptacle for milk 

 and cream clean, and the fish is kept in a 

 separate refrigerator. A fan outside the car 

 at the rear drives out the odors. The car 

 cost $30,000. It seats thirty-six passengers. 



Dried figs are responsible for the 

 keen expression of this very 

 ancient Katrina of the markets 



This Shrewd Little Marketwoman 

 Is Made of Figs 



A DOLL with which young- 

 sters can be amused on 

 rainy days, and which lends 

 itself to a curious effect in 

 decoration may be made 

 from dried figs and bits of 

 cloth from the scrap-bag. 

 The little marketwoman 

 shown in the accompanying 

 illustration is a good ex- 

 ample of the results to be 

 obtained. The stem of the 

 fig makes a characteristic 

 nose. The eyes are those 

 of an old discarded 

 bisque doll. The 

 mouth is a mere 

 incision in the fig 

 skin and the neck is an- 

 other smaller fig pressed 

 up into the head. The 

 basket is also a fig with 

 a worsted handle. 



