Bo Bandit and the Steel Driving Man

Retold by Bethany Hegedus

Although i was no bigger than a sack of flour, I set my sights on working for the C & 0 Railroad. I crouched beneath the wheels of a wagon, scoping things out, when a shadow spread over me, blocking out the noonday sun.

Standing a dozen feet away was a man as big as a mountain. His shoulders were the size of two mighty boulders. His arms bulged thick as tree trunks. A hammer hung at his side, black and solid like the night.

"Excuse me, mister. Who's in charge here?" I asked, getting up my gumption.

"Cap'n's in there." The man pointed to a makeshift office. His voice wasn't thunderous like I thought it'd be. It poured outta him like lemonade from a pitcher, slow and easy. "What you want with him?"

"Looking for work. My daddy's taken ill. Bringing in some pay would sure help matters." I stuck out my hand. "Name's Bo Bandit, from down in Virginie. What's yours?"

"John," the man said with a grin. "John Henry. I'm from Virginie, too."

So that's how I came to find John Henry was sure enough muscle and bone and not some tall tale told round campfires. I'd heard his name as I made my way from the fields of North Carolinie to the Chesapeake Bay. Rumors and hearsay traveled faster than spit jumps on a griddle.

"John Henry can do the work a four men and still not need but an hour's worth a rest."

"That hammer of his is darn near the size of a hog's head."

And the one I heard time and time again: "Believe you me, that John Henry's got a steel hammer at the center of his chest. He ain't got no heart, none a'tall."

And here I was face to face with the man himself.

"Tell Cap'n you're a friend of mine." He grinned. "He'll put you to work."

Cap'n was 'bout to show my behind the door when I piped up, "John Henry sent me."

Cap'n stamped out his cigar. "Did he, now? You're too scrawny to be working the steel driving line. Cook just lost a man. You could fill his spot. No sneaking, vittles, got that?"

"Yes, sir." I tipped my hat, happy to have me a job.

The next morning, I slogged helping after helping of grits into the bowls of the growling men. John was the only one to smile and say "thankey" 'fore filling his hurgsry belly.

"Where are they setting off to?" I asked Cook while the men bustled about.

"Headed to the work site, over yonder. The steel drivers and the shakers are cutting a hole in that mountain there for the railroad to go through." Cook shook a pot over the fiery embers. "We got our own work to do. These plates ain't going to scrub themselves."

That evening, long past dusk, the men returned to camp. When I finished serving vittles and washing dishes, I set off to find John. I found him whittling, set off a piece from the men, who raised their voices in song.

I plunked down beside him. "Whatcha carving?"

"A heart for the lady I left behind."

"That so." I rubbed my hands together. John wasn't right talkative, but I had a feeling he liked me fine. Might as well ask what was really on my mind. "Heard it said you don't need no sleep and that you ain't got no…"

"Hear a lot of rumors working on the rails. Ain't many of 'em true." John smiled and let out a low whistle. "Except the one 'bout my belly being as deep as Big Bend Tunnel will be wide. That one's a fact."

Each week I sent Mama my pay. The days went along dandy, until one afternoon when a crowd gathered as a man barked from the platform, "This here steam drill can outlast, outblast any man. It can chop rock like a hot knife slides through butter." Cap'n hung back until the crowd dispersed, then chatted with the traveling salesman.

"Listen here," said Cap'n that evening over the hum of hungry men. "Jim, Hank, and Cole: Go on home. C & O Railroad won't be needing your services anymore. Today I bought me a steam drill, a fancy new contraption that can do the work of three of ya."

Shouts of "Hold up. Nawww," laced with grumbles, erupted from the workers as the three men called got to their feet.

"Ain't fair. We' re good workers," said Hank. "Our blood, sweat, and tears are up on that mountain."

Cap'n's voice rose above the din, "Y'all may think you're free men nowadays, but C & O owns your hides. You boys ain't nothing next to this here machine but lumps of muscle, good for nothing."

John slung his hand on my shoulder and stopped the ruckus himself, announcing, "No machine gonna make me not a man."

"John, hush, or you'll be next," I said, my words swallowed by the cheers of the men.

"We ain't worthless," said John. "None of us."

The men clanged their spoons against their empty chowder bowls and shouted a chorus of "John! John! John!"

"Fine." Cap'n raised his arms to silence the crowd. "If that's how you want it, John. Muscle against machine--a little competition tomorrow morning. We'll see who's worthless after that. You win: the men stay on. You lose: four more men are gone."

When night fell, I snuck over to John's bunk. "You're crazy, John. There's no way you can win."

"Now, listen here, Bo," he said, working a worn rag over the steel head of his hammer. "You was born free. I remember slave days, and nothing--not C & O, not Cap'n, and not some machine--is going to take away the feeling I get when I swing me a hammer. Ever hear a hammer? It's the sound of freedom ringing loud and clear."

"But, John, I've seen that steam drill put to the test. It pounded a block of granite to dust like that." I snapped my fingers.

"Bo, I ain't just doing this for me. I'm doing it for them three cut loose today--and all them others out there who believe they ain't worth nothing when someone like Cap'n tells them they ain't. I'm gonna win or die trying. Now, good night, Bo. I need me my rest."

At breakfast, camp swarmed with a worried buzz. I dillydallied, pouring the oatmeal as slow as I could. But before long, everyone had eaten. John didn't say a word. Just winked when I snuck him an extra scoop.

A long rope held back the crowd at the lip of the Big Bend Tunnel. Being pint-size, I weaseled my way to the front of the crowd. John stood at the ready, towering over Wilkes, Who'd been handpicked by Cap'n to man the steam drill.

My stomach was a jumble of knots as Cap'n's revolver rang out. The steam drill made an awful noise, but John's hammer could still be heard clanging amidst the clatter. What John said was true: it was the sound of freedom! And it was music to my ears.

Dust circled the mouth of the mountain as they pounded into the granite. Wilkes and John were swallowed into the belly of Big Bend. I ran to the other side of the mountain to wait it out.

I slunk through the throng of folks who were already there hooting and hollering one minute and holding their breath the next. I said me a prayer and crossed my fingers, hoping religion and pure superstition combined would make John come up the winner.

With one pound after another, as steady as a heartbeat, John Henry's hammer rattled against the rock. The steam drill hummed and sputtered. Folks began coughing and backing away.

I wiped the dust from my eyes, and there he was--John Henry and his hammer, standing straight as a pine saluting the summer sky.

"He did it," I cried, running forward. "He beat the steam drill!" John threw open his arms, scooped line up, and hoisted me into the air. Sweat and dust were caked into a paste all over his face and neck.

"We ain't worthless," John said, breathless. "'Member that, Bo."

"I won't never forget."

My feet had barely touched the ground before John Henry toppled over as if he'd been struck by lightning.

Move on back now. Give 'im room," called Cap'n, coming through the crowd. "Get the doctor down at camp. Hurry."

I knew before Doc pried the hammer from his hand that John Henry was dead and gone. None of them rumors I heard was true. Not a one. I learned that much from the man himself. It wasn't John Henry's muscles or his hammer that made him beat that steam drill--that had him pound straight through that mountain, as legend is bound to say. Sure enough, it was his heart.

Animal Athletes

Many people are good athletes, but how do we compare to animals?

Who's the fastest runner?

A cheetah. It can run up to 70 miles per hour—faster than a car speeding on a highway. The fastest human runners aren't even half that fast, reaching only about 25 miles per hour, slower than a car cruising down a city side street.

Who can jump the farthest?

People can jump pretty far. The record is almost 30 feet. That's farther than the length of five men. Only a few animals can beat that. Kangaroos can cover 40 feet in one leap, but the best jumpers for their size are fleas. They can jump more than 150 times their own length.

Keeping Cool in Summer!

When I came to this country, a classmate asked me where I was from. I answered, "India."

He said, "Cool!"

My response was, "Not really; it's pretty hot where I come from."

So, how did we keep our cool, especially in those summer months, when the temperature soared to 110° F. or more?

We did not rely on "Big Gulps." Mostly, we drank lots of water. The city was dotted with dozens of roadside pyaus, free, drinking water stations. Water was kept cool naturally in big, earthen pots made by local potters. The pyaus were operated by religious or civic organizations. We also had many water coolers.

When someone dropped in for whatever reason, we always offered them a glass of cold water. Hot tea or something cold would be next in line.

Homemade, cool drinks in a dozen different flavors (not all sweet) were the norm during the hot season. Because the heat made one sweat a lot, a bit of salt was also added to some cold drinks. A lightly-salted, thin buttermilk drink (flavored with cumin) was commonly served at community feasts or gatherings.

Lassi (similar to the Western smoothie) was probably the favorite drink for us kids. It could be made with the pulp of fresh, ripe mangos, bananas or other juicy, tropical fruits. If none was available, yogurt was used. The flavor was enhanced with sugar, salt, rose water or cardamom.

Another favorite, cool drink was fresh sugarcane juice. From March until August, there were scores of special corner stores set up in every city and town to serve sugarcane juice. They used hand-cranked or electric juicers (or, even cow-powered ones in rural areas) to squeeze the sugar cane right in front of you so you knew it was "fresh" and not watered down. We would also squeeze a bit of lemon and sprinkle a special spice mix to flavor the juice. Often, friends and family "went out" to drink this refreshing, healthy and inexpensive drink on summer evenings. The shops stayed open until 10 p.m., or even later.

In coastal areas, the most common cold drink is coconut milk. The seller skillfully uses a machete to cut open the end of a green coconut and inserts a straw in the hole. There you have it: a naturally bottled tasty drink! After sipping this fresh energy drink, you can ask the seller to scoop out the soft coconut meat from the inside of the shell for you to eat.

In our region of India, yet another common cold drink is panha. To make it, you boil a few green, raw mangos for a few minutes and let them cool off naturally for a while. Hand-squeeze the pulp out of the now soft mangos. Add cold water and a touch of salt and sugar (and ice cubes, if available) and mix thoroughly before serving. Besides mangos, tamarind, kauth (the sweet and sour fruit of the Bel tree) and several other tropical fruits were also used to concoct such a cold drink at home. No wonder we never missed any of the bottled soda pop that one can buy these days. Bottled soda or juices were exceptions then, but now they're being pushed in the market.

During my travels in Mexico and Central America, I came across similar drinks in their mercados (markets). Licuados (smoothies) made with available fruit — papaya, piña, mango, banana, fresas, and mamé, jugo de zanahoria, naranjas, or agua de sandía ó limón for example, offer a variety of refrescos for the thirsty.

And, what do we get in our supermarkets, vending machines and corner stores these days? Bottled cold drinks with artificial flavors, artificial colors (like Red #40, Blue #1), high fructose corn syrup, modified food starch, sodium benzoate, glycerol ester of wood rosin, brominated vegetable oil, caffeine… Does that sound like a healthy, tasty treat? No wonder when I see the ingredient lists of soft drinks sold in the stores, I turn my nose. I worry about their impact on the health of people who buy these drinks often. If you are concerned about this, try to avoid foods or drinks with any artificial ingredients.

Thirsty? Plain water, freshly squeezed fruit juices — pineapples, oranges and apples, or fresh fruit are the best! No fresh fruit? Frozen fruit or berries are great in smoothies. Try preparing some of these cool concoctions with your siblings or parents. You might also have fun making your own recipes.

By Arun Také, Editor

Just Like Mom Not!

You love your mom, big-time. It's a huge, honkin' bummer, though, when she has one idea about how you oughta cruise around that big roller rink called life and you have another. When Mom makes decisions for you, tries to live through you or forces you to be her Mini-Me, you feel beyond icky — and that's natural!

Worried the situation is outta your control? Not so, sistah! There's tons you can do to make it better. When you and Mom don't see eye to eye, it's about using your smarts and strengths to help her understand and respect your wants and needs.

PRESSURED MUCH?

THE MAMA DRAMA Your mom never got the chance to go to college — so she's decided you've gotta get into Harvard. She watches your grades like a hawk (nothing but a straight-A flush makes her happy), is constantly on your back about advanced placement classes and double-checks your homework. You're so stressed you feel like a balloon about to pop.

YOUR STRATEGY First off, see it from her view. It must have really hurt her back in the day when her college dreams got dashed. No doubt, she wants you to have an amazing future. Still, you are under no obligation to live the life she wishes she had — you've got to live the life that's right for you.

The best move? Sit down with Mom, and let her know you see where she is coming from. Then, explain that her non-stop riding you about school is force-feeding you a giant stress sandwich. Let her know you need a breather — after all, you've got a little time before you need to think seriously about what you want to do about college. The key is to be totally upfront about what you want to do — or don't want to do. Honesty between you and your mom will definitely make you closer.

WALK THIS WAY…

THE MAMA DRAMA Your mom was an amazing dancer when she was young but, hey, ballet isn't your bag. If you have to do one more pirouette, you're gonna scream. Still, Mom won't let you swap lessons for softball camp, which you're dying to play.

YOUR STRATEGY Know that your mom is probably pushin' the pink toe shoes on you because she wants you to experience something she really loves — and hopes you'll love just as much. It's like the first time you read a Harry Potter book. You just couldn't wait to tell your BFF she had to get a copy, right?

Still, it's not fair for your mom to expect you to groove on something just because she did. You might feel guilty that you don't dig dance like Mom wishes you would — after all, you don't want to disappoint her. But a huge part of growing up and becoming your own person is knowing your likes and dislikes — and not being afraid to do what you really love.

Explain to Mom that you love softball as much as she loves ballet. Ask her to think about how troubling it would have been if her 'rents hadn't let her dance and tried to make her do an activity she wasn't feelin'. If you present your case in a calm, so-not-freakin'-out-or-whining way, Mom will be impressed with how mature you are.

CHOOSE OR LOSE

THE MAMA DRAMA Your mom tries to make all of your decisions for you — and we mean all of 'em. Did you pick out the pink dress you're wearing to Spring Fling? Nope, she did. Did you get to decide how to spend your stash of birthday cash? Nope, she popped it right into your savings account. Heck, she even tries to order for you in restaurants. And if you try to assert yourself, a huge fight happens. Ugh.

YOUR STRATEGY In your mom's mind, she's trying to spare you problems by calling all the shots. She doesn't want you to make a flub that'll cause you grief — major or minor. But the truth is, she isn't doing you any favors in the long run. You learn responsibility through missteps, and figuring out how not to rewind and repeat them.

Sit down with your mom in a totally stress-free spot (not at the mall while you're shopping or out to eat, please) and tell her that, although you appreciate her intentions, you feel controlled. Explain that you really trust your own judgment and remind her of a few choices you've aced recently (picking that tough algebra class and doing great in it, for example). Ask Mom for leeway in making certain decisions, like choosing your clothes for a test shot of, say, a month. Then, during that month, make sure your decisions make you truly look your best, feel positive and move forward in the world. Go in with that attitude, and you should have success in winning Mom's trust and feeling way more sure of yourself.

KEEPIN' IT REAL

THE MAMA DRAMA Your mom wants you to look and act all sweet and neat 24/7. You know, like the kind of girl who dresses up just to walk the dog, never forgets to write a thank-you note to Grandma and has the world's tidiest room. You, on the other hand, are human (a little bit tomboy, a little bit forgetful, a little bit sloppy) and hate having to live up to her picture-perfect vision of who you should be. You simply can't be some teenage drone. Does she really want a Stepford daughter?

YOUR STRATEGY OK, being a clean, polite, considerate person is a lot different than being a prissy robot. Your moms master plan is probably just to make sure you're putting your best foot forward where other people are concerned, not to mold you into a plastic princess.

The solution? One word: compromise. First, let Mom know you understand that being kind, appropriate and responsible toward other people is absolutely right-on and that you'll be sure to act that way. In turn, ask her to ease up a little on the polished-image trip. It won't be tough to settle on some ground rules that cover both how Mom thinks you "should" appear to the world and who you really are. By meeting each other halfway, tension will be zapped, you'll feel much freer to be yourself — and, hey, you might find out that you actually like vacuuming your shag rug on a regular basis (you can actually see what color it is again).

USE, YOUR VIEWS

THE MAMA DRAMA Your mom thinks only her opinion on any given sitch is the right one, and she wants you to make like a parrot and echo her every thought. If you put out another idea, she doesn't take you seriously. Exhibit A: She eats meat and wears leather, so when you told her you were considering going veggie, she interrupted you to say, "Of course, you're not doing that." You feel way dissed, like her views are valid and yours mean zippo.

YOUR STRATEGY Know right up front that Mom probably isn't out to upset you on purpose — she's likely just very set in her ways when it comes to what she thinks is right and what she's sure is wrong. After all, she's been sounding off about her thoughts for so long, she may have almost stopped hearing what other people think. So, in a big way, it should not be taken personally. Mom has probably also tried to raise you to believe the same stuff she does. So when you sound off with a different viewpoint, she may worry that your choices could hurt you in some way — maybe she frets over whether a vegetarian diet is healthy for a girl at your age.

Still, while all that's true, you have the right to say what you think just as much as she does. The trick is to do it in a way that Mom can really get behind. Here's your secret weapon: humor. Next time Mom gives one of your views a pass, laugh a little and say, "I just love it when you tell me I'm wrong, Mom!" Then take the opportunity to tell Mom you really think it's good to disagree about stuff sometimes — it's a great way to learn about each other, and maybe see a sitch in a fresh way. Mom's not always going to be wrong, and neither are you.

Ask her to make a pact with you: The next time you state an opinion that's different from hers, instead of dismissing what you say right off the bat, ask her to ask you why you feel the way you do. Then, you guys can have a real, significant convo about the issue. Make a habit out of this, and your communication in general will be so much stronger.

The bottom line is that it's all about give and take — respecting your mom's position, while respecting yourself at the same time. If you show your mom that you're willing to consider her points while still being your own person, you'll have achieved the perfect balance. The sweet outcome is that Mom will be incredibly proud to have such a cool, confident daughter.

By Lisa Mulcahy