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Puling heavy suitcases all day in the summer is hard work, especially when you’re a thin 14-year-old. That was me in 1940-the youngest and smallest baggage boy at New York City’s Pennsylvania Railway Station.
After just a few days on the job, I began noticing that the other fellows were overcharging passengers. I’d like to join them, thinking, “Everyone else is doing it”.
When I got home that night, I told my dad what I wanted to do. “You give an honest day’s work,” he said, looking at me straight in the eye. “They’re paying you. If they want to do that, you let them do that.”
I followed my dad’s advice for the rest of that summer and have lived by his words ever since.
Of all the jobs I’ve had, it was my experience at Pennsylvania Railway Station that has stuck with me. Now I