10 - John Barleycorn or Alcoholic Memoirs by Jack London

Discover the untold story of renowned author Jack London, who tragically passed away at just forty years old. In this deeply personal memoir, London shares his life through the lens of his relationship with alcohol, personified as John Barleycorn. Despite the prevailing controversies surrounding his demise, Londons candid exposition of his battles with alcoholism was far ahead of its time, pre-empting modern theories of addiction. With an extraordinary blend of honesty and insight, he unveils his encounters with both the demons and deities of his life, personified by his friend and foe, John Barleycorn. (Summary by Peter Kelleher)

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapters nineteen and twenty of John barleycorn Or Alcoholic Memoirs
by Jack Lundon. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox
recordings are in the public domain. For more information or

(00:20):
to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. Chapter nineteen. When
I was with people who did not drink, I never
thought of drinking. Lewis did not drink, neither he nor
I could afford it. But more significant than that, we

(00:43):
had no desire to drink. We were healthy, normal, non alcoholic.
Had we been alcoholic, we would have drunk, whether or
not we could have afforded it. Each night, after the
day's work, washed up, changed and supper eaten, we met

(01:03):
on the street corner or in the little candy store.
But the warm fall weather passed, and on bitter nights
of frost or damp nights of drizzle, the street corner
was not a comfortable meeting place, and the candy store
was unheeded. Nita or whoever waited on the counter. Between waitings,

(01:26):
lurked in a back living room that was heated. We
were not admitted to this room, and in the store
it was as cold as out of doors. Lewis and
I debated the situation. There was only one solution. The saloon,
the congregating place of men, the place where men hobnobbed

(01:50):
with John barleycorn Well. Do I remember the damp and
drafty evening, shivering without overcoats because we could not afford
them that Lewis and I started out to select our saloon.
Saloons are always warm and comfortable. Now, Lewis and I

(02:12):
did not go into this saloon because we wanted a drink.
Yet we knew that saloons were not charitable institutions. A
man could not make a lounging place of a saloon
without occasionally buying something over the bar. Our dimes and
nickels were few. We could ill spare any of them

(02:36):
when they were so potent in paying carfare for oneself
and a girl. We never paid carfare when by ourselves
being content to walk so in this saloon we desired
to make the most of our expenditure. We called for

(02:57):
a deck of cards and sat down in a take
and played Yuker for an hour, in which time Lewis
treated once and I treated once to beer, the cheapest
drink ten cents for two prodigal. How we grudged it.

(03:17):
We studied the men who came into the place. They
seemed all middle aged and elderly workmen, most of them German,
who flocked by themselves in old acquaintance groups, and with
whom we could have only the slightest contacts. We voted
against that saloon and went out cast down with the

(03:41):
knowledge that we had lost in the evening and wanted
twenty cents for beer that we didn't want. We made
several more tries on succeeding nights, and at last found
our way into the National A saloon on Tenth and Frank.
Here was a more congenial crowd. Here Louis met a

(04:05):
fellow or two he knew, and here I met fellows
I had gone to school with. When a little lad
in knee pants. We talked of old days and of
what had become of this fellow and what that fellow
was doing now. And of course we talked it over drinks.

(04:26):
They treated and we drank. Then according to the code
of drinking, we had to treat it hurt, for it
meant forty to fifty cents a clatter. We felt quite
enlivened when the short evening was over, but at the

(04:47):
same time we were bankrupt. Our week spending money was gone.
We decided that that was the saloon for us, and
we agreed to be more circumcised back thereafter in our
drink buying. Also, we had to economize for the rest
of the week. We didn't even have carfair. We were

(05:11):
compelled to break an engagement with two girls from West
Oakland with whom we were attempting to be in love.
They were to meet us uptown the next evening, and
we hadn't the carfair necessary to take them home. Like
many others. Financially embarrassed, we had to disappear for a

(05:35):
time from the gay world, at least until Saturday night payday.
So Louis and I rendezvoud in a livery stable and
with coats buttoned and chattering teeth, played yuker and casino
until the time of our exile was over. Then we

(05:58):
returned to the name National Saloon and spent no more
than we could decently avoid spending for the comfort and warmth.
Sometimes we had mishaps, as when one got stuck twice
in succession in a five handed game of Sancho pedro.
For the drinks. Such a disaster meant anywhere between twenty

(06:24):
five to eighty cents, just according to how many of
the players ordered ten cent drinks. But we could temporarily
escape the evil effects of such disaster by virtue of
an account we ran behind the bar. Of course, this

(06:44):
only set back the day of reckoning and seduced us
into spending more than we could have spent on a
cash basis. When I left Oakland suddenly for the adventure
Path the following spring, I well remember I owed that
saloon keeper one dollar and seventy cents. Long after when

(07:09):
I returned he was gone. I still owe him that
dollar and seventy cents, And if he should chance to
read these lines, I want him to know that I'll
pay on demand. The foregoing incident of the National Saloon
I have given in order again to show the lure

(07:33):
or draw or compulsion toward John barleycorn in society as
at present organized with saloons on all the corners. Lewis
and I were two healthy youths. We didn't want to drink,
we couldn't afford to drink, and yet we were driven

(07:57):
by the circumstance of coal and rainy weather to seek
refuge in a saloon where we had to spend part
of our pitiful dole for drink. It will be urged
by some critics that we might have gone to the
YMCA tonight's school and to the social circles and homes

(08:23):
of young people. The only reply is that we didn't.
That is the irrefragible fact. We didn't. And today, at
this moment, there are hundreds of thousands of boys like
Lewis and me doing just what Lewis and I did

(08:47):
with John barleycorn warm and comfortable, beckoning and welcoming, tucking
their arms in his, and beginning to teach them his
mellow ways. Chapter twenty. The jute mills failed of its

(09:08):
agreement to increase my pay to a dollar and a
quarter a day. And I, a freeborn American boy whose
direct ancestors had fought in all the wars from the
old pre revolutionary Indian Wars, down exercised my sovereign right
of free contract by quitting the job. I was still

(09:32):
resolved to settle down. And I looked about me. One
thing was clear. Unskilled labor didn't pay. I must learn
a trade, and I decided on electricity. The need for
electricians was constantly growing. But how to become an electrician.

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I hadn't the money to go to a technical school
or university. Besides, I I didn't think much of schools.
I was a practical man in a practical world. Also,
I still believed in the old myths, which were the
heritage of the American boy. When I was a boy,

(10:15):
a canal boy could become a president. Any boy who
took employment with any firm could, by thrift, energy and sobriety,
learn the business and rise from position to position until
he was taken in as a junior partner. After that,

(10:36):
the senior partnership was only a matter of time. Very often,
so ran the myth, the boy, by reason of his
steadiness and application, married his employer's daughter. By this time
I had been encouraged to setch faith in myself in
the matter of girls, that I was quite certain I

(10:59):
would marry my employer's daughter. There wasn't a doubt of it.
All the little boys in the myths did it as
soon as they were old enough. So I bade farewell
forever to the adventure path and went out to the
power plant of one of our Oakland Street railways. I

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saw the superintendent himself in a private office, so fine
that it almost stunned me, but I talked straight up.
I told him I wanted to become a practical electrician,
that I was unafraid of work, that I was used

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to hard work, and that all he had to do
was look at me to see I was fit and strong.
I told him that I wanted to begin right at
the bottom and work up. That I wanted to devote
my life to this one occupation and one employment. The

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Superintendent beamed as he listened. He told me that I
was the right stuff for success, and that he believed
in encouraging American youth that wanted to rise. Why employers
were always on the lookout for young fellows like me

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and alas they found them all too rarely. My ambition
was fine and worthy, and he would see to it
that I got my chance. And as I listened with
swelling heart, I wondered if it was his daughter I
was to marry. Before you can go out on the

(12:46):
road and learn the more complicated and higher details of
the profession, he said, you will, of course have to
work in the car house with the men who install
and repair the motors. By this time, I was sure
that it was his daughter, and I was wondering how

(13:10):
much stock he might own in the company. But he said,
as you yourself so plainly see, you couldn't expect to
begin as a helper to the car house electricians. That
will come when you have worked up to it. You

(13:30):
will really begin at the bottom. In the car house.
Your first employment will be sweeping up, washing the windows,
keeping things clean, and after you have shown yourself satisfactory
at that, then you may become a helper to the

(13:52):
car house electricians. I didn't see how sweeping and scrubbing
a building was any preparation for the trade of electrician,
but I did know that in the books all the
boys started with the most menial tasks, and by making
good ultimately one to the ownership of the whole concern.

(14:16):
When shall I come to work? I asked, eager to
launch on this dazzling career, but said the superintendent, as
you and I have already agreed, you must begin at
the bottom. Not immediately can you in any capacity enter

(14:37):
the carhouse. Before that, you must pass through the engine
room as an oiler. My heart went down slightly, and
for the moment as I saw the road lengthen between
his daughter and me. Then it rose again. I would

(15:00):
be a better electrician with knowledge of steam engines. As
an oiler in the great engine room, I was confident
that few things concerning steam would escape me. Heavens, my
career shone more dazzling than ever. When shall I come

(15:21):
to work? I asked gratefully, But said the Superintendent. You
could not expect to enter immediately into the engine room.
There must be preparation for that, and through the fireroom,
of course. Come you see the matter clearly, I know,

(15:45):
and you will see that even the mere handling of coal,
it is a scientific matter and not to be sneered at.
Do you know that we weigh every pound of coal
we burn. Thus we learn the value of the coal
we buy. We know, to a tee the last penny

(16:07):
of cost of every item of production. And we learn
which firemen are the most wasteful, which firemen, out of
stupidity or carelessness, get the least out of the coal
they fire. The superintendent beamed again. You see how very

(16:29):
important the little matter of coal is. And by as
much as you learn of this little matter, you will
become that much better a workman, more valuable to us
more valuable to yourself. Now, are you prepared to begin
any time, I said, valiantly, The sooner the better. Very well,

(16:55):
he answered, you will come tomorrow morning at sea seven o'clock.
I was taken out and shown my duties. Also, I
was told the terms of my employment. A ten hour
day every day in the month, including Sundays and holidays,

(17:17):
with one day off each month, with a salary of
thirty dollars a month. It wasn't exciting. Years before at
the cannery, I had earned a dollar a day for
a ten hour day. I consoled myself with the thought

(17:39):
that the reason my earning capacity had not increased with
my years and strength was because I had remained an
unskilled laborer. But it was different now. I was beginning
to work for skill, for a trade, for career and

(17:59):
four fortune and the superintendent's daughter, And I was beginning
in the right way, right at the beginning. That was
the thing. I was passing coal to the fireman, who
shoveled it into the furnaces, where its energy was transformed
into steam, which in the engine room was transformed into

(18:25):
the electricity with which the electricians worked. This passing coal
was purely the very beginning, unless the superintendent should take
it into his head to send me to work in
the mines from which the coal came in order to
get a complete understanding of the genesis of electricity for

(18:50):
street railways work, I, who had worked with men, found
that I didn't know the first thing about real work.
A ten hour day, I had to pass hole for
the day and night shifts, and despite working through the

(19:12):
noon hour, I never finished my task before eight at night.
I was working a twelve or thirteen hour day, and
I wasn't being paid overtime as in the cannery. I
might as well give the secret away Right here. I
was doing the work of two men before me. One

(19:37):
mature able bodied laborer had done the day shift and
another equally mature able bodied laborer had done the night shift.
They had received forty dollars a month each. The superintendent,
bent on an economical administration, had persuaded me to do

(20:01):
the work of both men for thirty dollars a month.
I thought he was making an electrician of me. In
truth and fact, he was saving fifty dollars a month
operating expenses to the company. But I didn't know I
was displacing two men, nobody told me. On the contrary,

(20:26):
the superintendent warned everybody not to tell me how valiantly
I went at it. That first day, I worked at
top speed, filling the iron wheelbarrow with coal, running it
on the scales and weighing the load, then trundling it
into the fireroom and dumping it on the plates before

(20:50):
the fires work. I did more than the two men
whom I had displaced. They had merely wheeled in the
coal and dumped it on the plates. But while I
did this for the day coal, the night coal I
had to pile against the wall of the fireroom. Now

(21:11):
the fireroom was small, it had been planned for a
night coal passer, so I had to pile the night
coal higher and higher, buttressing up the heap with stout planks.
Toward the top of the heap, I had to handle
the coal a second time, tossing it up with a shovel.

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I dripped with sweat, but I never ceased from my stride,
though I could feel exhaustion coming on. By ten o'clock
in the morning, so much of my body's energy had
I consumed. I felt hungry and snatched a thick double
slice of bread and butter from my dinner pail. This

(21:58):
I devoured, grimed with coal dust, my knees trembling under me.
By eleven o'clock. In this fashion, I had consumed my
whole lunch. But what of it? I realized that it
would enable me to continue working through the noon hour,

(22:19):
and I worked all the afternoon. Darkness came on and
I worked under the electric lights. The day fireman went
off and the night fireman came on. I plugged away
at half past eight, famished tottering, I washed up, changed

(22:41):
my clothes, and dragged my weary body to the car.
It was three miles to where I lived, and I
had received a pass with the stipulation that I could
sit down as long as there were no paying passengers
in me of a seat. As I sank into a

(23:03):
corner outside seat, I prayed that no passenger might require
my seat, But the car filled up, and halfway in
a woman came on board, and there was no seat
for her. I started to get up, and to my astonishment,
found that I could not. With the chill wind blowing

(23:27):
on me. My spent body had stiffened into the seat.
It took me the rest of the run in to
unkink my complaining joints and muscles and get into a
standing position on the lower ramp, and when the car
stopped at my corner, I nearly fell to the ground.

(23:49):
When I stepped off, I hobbled two blocks to the
house and limped into the kitchen. While my mother started
to cook. I plunged into bread and butter. But before
my appetite was appeased or the steak fried, I was
sound asleep in vain. My mother strove to shake me

(24:12):
awake enough to eat the meat, failing in this. With
the assistance of my father, she managed to get me
to my room, where I collapsed dead asleep on the bed.
They undressed me and covered me up. In the morning
came the agony of being awakened. I was terribly sore,

(24:35):
and worst of all, my wrists were swelling. But I
made up for my lost supper eating an enormous breakfast,
and when I hobbled to catch my car, I carried
a lunch twice as big as the one the day before. Work.
Let any youth just turned eighteen try to outshovel too.

(25:00):
Man grown coal shovelers work long before midday, I had
eaten the last scrap of my huge lunch, But I
was resolved to show them what a husky young fellow
determined to rise could do. The worst of it was
that my wrists were swelling and going back on me.

(25:23):
There are few who do not know the pain of
walking on a sprained ankle. Then imagine the pain of
shoveling coal and trundling a loaded wheelbarrow with two sprained wrists.
Work more than once. I sank down on the coal

(25:44):
where no one could see me, and cried with rage
and mortification and exhaustion and despair. That second day was
my hardest, and all that enabled me to survive it
and get in the last of the night coal at

(26:05):
the end of thirteen hours was the day fireman who
bound both my wrists with broad leather straps. So tightly
were they buckled that they were like slightly flexible plaster casts.
They took the stresses and pressures which hitherto had been

(26:28):
borne by my wrists, and they were so tight that
there was no room for the inflammation to rise in
the sprains. And in this fashion I continued to learn
to be an electrician. Night after night I limped home,
fell asleep before I could eat my supper and was

(26:51):
helped into bed and undressed morning after morning, always with
hunger lunches in my dinner pail. I limped out of
the house on my way to work. I no longer
read my library books. I made no dates with the girls.
I was a proper work beast. I worked and ate

(27:14):
and slept while my mind slept all the time. The
whole thing was a nightmare. I worked every day, including Sunday,
and I looked far ahead to my one day off
at the end of a month, resolved to lie abed
all that day and just sleep and rest up. The

(27:36):
strangest part of this experience was that I never took
a drink, nor thought of taking a drink. Yet I
knew that men under hard pressure almost invariably drank. I
had seen them do it, and in the past had
often done it myself. But so sheerly non alcoholic was

(27:58):
I that it never entered my mind that a drink
might be good for me. I instanced this to show
how entirely lacking from my makeup was any predisposition toward alcohol.
And the point of this instance is that later on,
after more years had passed, contact with John barleycorn. At

(28:23):
last did induce in me the alcoholic desire. I had
often noticed the day fireman staring at me in a
curious way. At last, one day he spoke. He began
by swearing me to secrecy. He had been warned by
the superintendent not to tell me, and in telling me

(28:48):
he was risking his job. He told me of the
day coal passer and the night coal passer, and of
the wages they had received. I was doing for thirty
dollars a month what they had received eighty dollars for doing.
He would have told me sooner, the fireman said, had

(29:10):
he not been so certain that I would break down
under the work and quit. As it was, I was
killing myself, and all to no good purpose. I was
merely cheapening the price of labor, he argued, and keeping
two men out of a job. Being an American boy

(29:32):
and a proud American boy, I did not immediately quit.
This was foolish of me, I know, But I resolved
to continue the work long enough to prove to the
superintendent that I could do it without breaking down. Then
I would quit, and he would realize what a fine

(29:56):
young fellow he had lost, All of which I f
faithfully and foolishly did. I worked on until the time
came when I got in the last of the night
coal by six o'clock. Then I quit the job of
learning electricity by doing more than two men's work for

(30:18):
a boy's wages, went home and proceeded to sleep the
clock round. Fortunately I had not stayed by the job
long enough to injure myself, though I was compelled to
wear straps on my wrists for a year afterward. But
the effect of this work orgy in which I had

(30:40):
indulged was to sicken me with work. I just wouldn't work.
The thought of work was repulsive. I didn't care if
I never settled down learning a trade could go hang.
It was a whole lot better to royster and frolic
over the world in the way I had previously done.

(31:04):
So I headed out on the adventure path again, starting
to tramp east by beating my way on the railroads.
End of chapter twenty