“I’m very tired,” said John Henry.

  Charles and Polly Ann took him by the hands and pulled him to his feet. “You’re our only hope!” said Charles. “You’ve proven that a man can beat a machine once! Now we just need you to prove it one more time!”

  “We can do this tomorrow, right?”

  “No! The challenge is now! You’ve got to win, John Henry, or we’re all going to lose our jobs worse than before!”

  “That doesn’t even make sense.”

  It took three men plus Polly Ann to lift the hammer, but they put it back in his hand. John Henry looked out at the faces of the workers and knew that he couldn’t let them down.

  Like I said, I wasn’t there. But if I had been there, do you know what I would have seen in John Henry’s eyes? Resolve. Resolve not to let down the other workers. Sure, he’d exhausted himself to the point where a medical professional would have declared him legally dead, but that was at a time when they didn’t necessarily have the proper equipment to make such a declaration with complete accuracy. People used to get buried alive all the time.

  An ugly thing, being buried alive. You may think there are worse ways to go, like when they chain each of your appendages to four different horses and then send those horses on their way in four different directions, but that’s got nothing on the horror of waking up alone in a coffin, six feet under the cold ground.

  But you know what? If that happened to John Henry, he would’ve busted his way right out of that grave, dusted himself off, and gotten right back to work. That’s the kind of man he was.

  Anyway, John Henry didn’t get buried alive. He got to his feet, and he stared at that steam-powered hammer, which was all shiny and new, and he could feel the strength flowing back into his arms. He pointed at the hammer and said, “I’m sending you back to the scrap heap.”

  Well, everybody applauded and cheered, except for the driver of the steam-powered hammer, of course. He frowned a little.

  And John Henry, he drove in those spikes like a man possessed. He’d been half-dead, and yet he worked like he’d spent the past week relaxing on the beach in a hammock, sipping drinks out of a hollowed-out pineapple. How many people do you know who could do that? I think you’ll understand that I mean no disrespect when I say that, in similar circumstances, you probably would have just let those men lose their jobs. I know I would have. “No,” I would have said. “Just let me die all the way in peace.”

  They weren’t lying when they said that this steam-powered hammer was faster than the old one. Hell, that thing was twice as fast. It was so fast that a few of the workers admitted that though they didn’t want to lose their jobs, they could see that the machine was indeed more efficient than human labor, with the added benefit that nobody had to suck dust into their lungs, and, yeah, they were still hoping that John Henry won the race, but they could understand the perspective of those in charge.

  John Henry worked twice as fast as before without sacrificing quality. Slam! Slam! Slam! Slam! Slam! Inanimate objects or not, you almost had to feel sorry for those steel spikes.

  The driver of the steam-powered hammer started to get kind of nervous. He was going to look like a real jackass if he lost to a half-dead man, and the financial implications of losing this challenge were dire. Railroad owners would cancel contracts all across the nation, and he’d have to lay off thousands of workers in his factories.

  “John Henry’s pulling ahead!” shouted Charles. Actually, John Henry had pulled ahead a couple of minutes ago, but Charles had been too flabbergasted by that fact to speak until now.

  A big ol’ cloud of dust had formed, so thick that the spectators couldn’t see what was going on. But when the dust cleared, do you know who’d won the race?

  That’s right, John Henry.

  Did you know that some railroad workers would swing their hammer so hard and so often that their intestines would come out? Yep, their intestines! Can you imagine that? But not John Henry. His torso was strong enough to keep those intestines inside where they belonged.

  But he fell to the ground, closed his eyes, and everything went dark.

  * * *

  “John Henry...?”

  “Go to hell.”

  “John Henry, wake up. It’s me, Charles.”

  “I’m pretty sure I just asked you to go to hell.”

  “John Henry? It’s me, Polly Ann.”

  “You can remarry after I’m gone. It’s okay. I give you my blessing. Be happy.”

  “John Henry, open your eyes!”

  John Henry didn’t want to, but after some more coaxing, he finally opened his eyes. Charles and Polly Ann were crouched over him, looking concerned.

  “Is everybody still employed?” he asked.

  Charles and Polly Ann both nodded.

  “Good. That’s good.”

  “How are you feeling?” asked Polly Ann.

  “Like somebody set my whole body on fire, and then took their sweet time in extinguishing me. I don’t fear death. Death right now would be like a cold glass of lemonade on a hot summer day.”

  “Don’t die,” said Charles. “We need you.”

  “I can’t help anyone.”

  “They say there’s a man who can control the elements. A practitioner of the dark arts. By manipulating the earth, wind, water, and fire, he can drive in spikes faster than any steam-powered hammer! Maybe he doesn’t use the water or fire. I’m not sure how it works, but unless you can beat him, we’re all gonna lose our jobs!”

  “My hammer’s right there. Have fun.”

  “No, John Henry, you’re the only one who can win the race!”

  “If that’s true, then maybe we need to accept the idea that progress isn’t such a bad thing, even when there’s collateral damage. You shouldn’t continue to use outdated methods when a better option exists just to maintain the status quo.”

  “Come on, John Henry, you can’t really believe that!”

  “Do you want technological advancement to remain stagnant? This could be your chance to acquire some new skills.”

  “Please, John Henry! Don’t let us down!”

  John Henry looked into their eyes, and at that moment he knew that he had to accept this challenge. He had to show the world that supernatural abilities couldn’t replace a man with a hammer.

  The practitioner of the dark arts looked pretty much the way you’d expect a warlock to look. He wore a black cape, had a pointy mustache and pointy beard, and laughed a lot even when nobody told a joke.

  John Henry lifted his hammer high above his head, and the challenge began.

  John Henry was my father.

  I kept trying to find a good place to insert that piece of information, but there really hasn’t been one, so I apologize for just blurting it out like that. I assure you that you’re getting an unbiased telling of the events, even though I’m his son.

  Well, the warlock waved his arms, and cyclones appeared! Their winds were so strong that the other workers had to step back and shield their eyes, lest rock particles slam into their irises at a hundred and forty-five miles per hour. John Henry’s eyeballs were more resilient and he kept his eyes wide open so he could see what he was doing.

  With those cyclones, the warlock could lift spikes into the air and slam them down four or five at a time! He kept cackling with laughter the entire time. John Henry wanted to laugh right back at him, but he could hardly breathe.

  Several of the workers shouted words of encouragement, trying to inform John Henry that they felt he was the superior competitor in this race, but their voices were lost in the swirling winds.

  My guess is that a couple of the workers felt that it was worth sacrificing their wages to watch a warlock summon cyclones with his hands, but nobody ever admitted to it.

  Some men, when faced with what seems to be an unwinnable challenge, drop into the fetal position and tremble. Well, John Henry trembled a bit, but he didn’t drop into the fetal position even once. “I’m going to beat that warlock,” he said, figuring that it didn’t count as talking to himself if he couldn’t hear his own voice, “and I’m going to save everybody’s jobs. Then I’m going to take a nap.”

  He wondered if the cyclones would stop if he bashed in the warlock’s face with the hammer. Then he decided that such a thing would not be true to the spirit of the challenge.

  So John Henry, he began driving in that steel even faster than before! If you’d been there and been wearing protective eyewear, you would have gasped at that steel-drivin’ man, I promise you that. I would never use language unbefitting a gentleman, but anybody standing there that day could be forgiven for taking the Lord’s name in vain.

  And when the cyclones dissipated, do you know who’d won the race?

  Nope, it was John Henry!

  The workers cheered and applauded even louder than before. “That John Henry, he’s done it again!” they shouted.

  The warlock, he was a sore loser, and he flung a lightning bolt at John Henry’s head, intending to vaporize him. But John Henry, he held up his hammer at the last instant, and the lightning bolt bounced right off it, and that warlock became the one who got vaporized.

  The workers stopped their cheering and applauding. Even if the victim is an evil warlock, you need to show respect after the loss of a human life.

  Unfortunately for John Henry, you can’t work that hard and just walk away whistling a merry tune. He got dizzy, collapsed, and then everything went dark.

  * * *

  When he opened his eyes, it was still dark.

  And cold.

  He lifted his hand. His fingers touched wood.

  Dear God, they’d buried him alive.

  Now, John Henry was braver than you or I, but don’t let that fool you into thinking that he didn’t let out a howl of primal anguish. Anybody else would have done the same, and there was no shame in it.

  And then he cried.

  I’ll be honest—I wish he hadn’t done that. It was a predicament to be sure, but that doesn’t mean you need to go and blubber about it. Maybe I would have wept and maybe I wouldn’t have; I just feel that, all things considered, a man should be a man when it comes to these matters.

  I’ve never shed a tear in my life.

  Perhaps there’s something wrong with me. My wife thinks so. “It just ain’t normal!” she wailed at our son’s funeral. He drowned in the pond out back. I was supposed to be watching him. But that’s not the story I’m here to tell.

  Most men, upon waking up and discovering that they’d been buried alive, would claw at the underside of the coffin for a while, and then go back to sleep until their oxygen ran out. But not John Henry. They’d buried him with his beloved hammer. He picked up that hammer, and even though there wasn’t much room to maneuver, he went and busted his way right out of that grave.

  “John Henry!” Charles shouted. “Thank goodness you’re out!”

  Polly Ann gave him a great big hug and a kiss. “I love you so much, John Henry!”

  “Why were you two standing around by my grave?”

  “We were about ninety percent sure that you were dead,” Charles explained. “It wasn’t enough not to bury you, but it was enough that we felt we should keep watch for a while, just in case.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “And now we need your help,” said Charles. “They say there are dragons! With one tap of their enormous talons, they can drive in steel faster than any man alive! We’re all gonna lose our jobs!”

  “Why would you lose your jobs?” John Henry asked. “Surely they need workers to ride the dragons and make sure they don’t fly off and kidnap maidens.”

  Charles shook his head. “They’ve got this new invention, this newfangled thing called hypnotherapy, and those dragons wouldn’t touch a maiden even if she were rubbing up against their scaly tail!”

  “There have to be other jobs out there.”

  “There aren’t! We need you!”

  “What about the poor dragons? Why should they be unemployed?”

  “Please! Just one more race! That’s all we ask!”

  “My hands are covered with blisters,” said John Henry, “and those blisters have even bigger blisters on the tips, and those blisters have even bigger blisters on the tips!”

  “Exaggeration is not an admirable trait in a man,” said Charles.

  “You’re right. I’ll do it. I’ll drive in that steel faster than that dragon!”

  “Dragons. Plural. Four of ‘em.”

  “Well...then...all of us workers will be racing as a team, right?”

  Charles shook his head. “Nobody said it was a fair challenge.”

  Now, John Henry could have crawled right back down into that grave and nobody would have thought less of him. But that’s not the kind of man he was. He stood up real tall, and he puffed out his chest, and he held his hammer up high and he vowed that he would beat those dragons, or die trying!

  You may think you know how this story goes. “No man could beat a quartet of steel-drivin’ dragons!” you’re saying, “so clearly John Henry lost the challenge, and all of the workers lost their jobs, and everybody was sad.”

  Well, that’s not how it happened.

  He swung that hammer so fast that even the wings of a hummingbird had more visual clarity. And when the dust settled, it was a tie.

  But you know what? One of those silly dragons had driven in a spike all crooked, so John Henry was declared the winner!

  Hooray for John Henry!

  Seriously, that was one hell of an impressive accomplishment. I don’t care how jaded you are to superhuman feats of strength and endurance...that was impressive. It’s difficult for my mind to even process what he did. He beat four dragons! Four! If he’d beat only one dragon, the world would be shouting “Oh my God! John Henry beat a dragon!” But he beat four of them! That just doesn’t happen!

  The dragons were taken away and put to death. All of the workers gave John Henry a great big pat on the back and told him what a fine job he’d done. He’d never shaken so many hands in his life.

  He didn’t even try to die this time. And before too long, sure enough, Charles hurried over to him, his eyes wide with panic.

  “John Henry, we need you! They say they’ve got a man who can drive in steel faster than a steam-powered hammer, a more advanced steam-powered hammer, a warlock, and four dragons! We’re all gonna lose our jobs!”

  “Oh?”

  Charles gave a frantic nod. “You have to beat him in a race! You’re the only one who can...” He trailed off. “John Henry, you’re gonna steal our jobs!”

  “Or you could let me die.”

  “Yeah, I think maybe we’ll do that.”

  And so, John Henry shook Charles’ hand, and then he gave Polly Ann a hug, and he went off to die in peace. They say that late at night, if you’re real quiet and you listen real close, you can hear the sounds of his hammer. Though I guess that means he’s stuck doing this shit in the afterlife for all eternity, so it’s not such a happy ending.

  On…John Henry

  Roud #790 the ballad, John Henry, is the most well-known and most-often recorded American folk song. (1) The English Folk Dance and Song Society list over 900 versions. (2) In the ballad, John Henry is a huge man who worked for the railroad (usually the song takes place in West Virginia, others place it in Alabama). (3) In order to build the railroad, tunnels had to be built through mountains and John Henry’s job was to pound holes into rock where explosives would be placed. The bosses decided to bring in a steam-powered drill in hopes of speeding up progress. John Henry challenged the steam drill and its operator to a race to see who could drill faster. John Henry won thanks to his superhuman effort but it cost him his life.(4)

  John Henry can be read in many ways: one is as a Luddite tall-tale with one man beating a steam machine that threatened to take away his job. As John Cephas, a blues musician from Virginia, states, “It was a story that was close to being true. It’s like the underdog overcoming this powerful force. I mean even into today when you hear it (it) makes you take pride. I know especially for black people, and for other people from other ethnic groups, that a lot of people are for the underdog.” (5)

  Folklorist John Lomax writes how John Henry was often used as an inspiration by African Americans. While talking with a family on Fenwick Island, the father came in from work wet and exhausted. The family needed food that could only be acquired by rowing two miles to Bennett’s Point. The father referred to the story of John Henry and trudged back out into the rain to row to the store. Later, another man rowing Lomax, in foul weather and against the tide, stated that if John Henry could beat the steam drill, he could row them back home. (6)

  As one would expect, many people have sung this popular song. The Roud Index lists Woody Guthrie, Leadbelly, and Doc Watson (7), while Hugh Laurie and Johnny Cash can both be found on YouTube.

  1) NPR.Org. 2002. 9 December, 2013.

  http://www.npr.org/programs/morning/features/patc/johnhenry/index.html>. Present At The Creation.

  2) Roud Folksong Index. 2013. 27 November, 2013.

  . English Folk Dance and Song Society.

  3) ibiblio. 2013. 4 December, 2013.

  . A collaboration of the School of Information and Library Science, the School of Journalism and Mass Communication and Information Technology Services at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.

  4) NPR.Org. 2002. 9 December, 2013.

  . Present At The Creation.

  5) NPR.Org. 2002. 9 December, 2013.

  . Present At The Creation.

  6) Lomax, John A. and Alan Lomax. American Ballads and Folk Songs. New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1934.

  7) Roud Folksong Index. 2013. 27 November, 2013.