The Spiked Heel

“See,” Griff said, “this is a work ticket.” The ticket was a pink card. “Everything is copied onto this ticket from the original order blank our territory salesmen sent in, after I price the order, you understand. Here, take a look at it. Up here in the left-hand corner, the pairage: fifteen. That means there’s only one lot in this particular run. Pattern, well, this is the pattern number, Mr. McQuade, I’ll show you how that’s utilized in a moment: 4517. And right here is the date: 2/26. That’s today, the day we start production on this run of shoes. And here’s the last number, and the style number, and stamped here in the right-hand corner is the case number, 363–201, and alongside that, the price of the shoe, thirteen seventy-five. That’s only half the ticket, you see. The other half has all the operations listed in detail, and each piece-worker clips off the section of the ticket pertaining to his operation and saves it. He turns those in to his foreman, and he gets paid on the basis of the number of tickets he’s clipped, each ticket representing so many cents. The Payroll Department tallies that. When this ticket finally comes back upstairs to me, I’ll see only this half of it. The other half will have been clipped away as the shoe progresses through the factory. Do you understand?”

“This left-hand side will survive,” McQuade said, “is that it?”

“Yes, yes. Now, look here at this left-hand side again. Beneath the information we just read, we have this information,” and he held out the card:

CUTTING

VP & QTR—

     800/61 PEKING BLUE SHANTUNG.

McQuade looked at the space on the ticket.

“This is information for the Leather Room primarily. When they see this, they know the cutters will cut a vamp and quarter from Peking Blue shantung. The ‘eight hundred sixty-one’ is just our house number for the fabric. Every material we use has a house number. Clear?”

“Very,” McQuade said, smiling. “You really do know the factory, don’t you, Mr. Griffin?”

“Well,” Griff said, smiling modestly. “Here now, right under that, it says the following:”

LININGS

 WHITE       3612 BACKSTAY

 LEA VP LING

 507     x-22   POWDER BLUE SOCK.

“I see,” McQuade said, studying the ticket.

“This just tells them what materials to cut for the inside of the shoe. The lining will be white, with a leather vamp lining. The backstay…” Griff paused. “You know, I’m talking as if you know what this is all about, and perhaps making playshoes and men’s shoes is entirely different — even in terminology. Shall I give you a rundown?”

“If you like,” McQuade said.

“Well… let’s see, hardly know where to begin. The vamp. Picture a shoe, and then divide it in half, across the instep. The forward half, where your toes are, is the vamp. From there back and around the heel is the quarter. The section where the instep is, we sometimes call the shank because… oh hell, I imagine it’s the same with all shoes.”

“Well, more or less,” McQuade said vaguely.

“I was telling you about the backstay. It’s a piece of leather put into the quarter. That keeps the shoe on the foot, in addition to the counter.”

McQuade blinked.

“There’s something you wouldn’t know about in casuals,” Griff said. “A counter. It’s just a hard piece of leather which is put into the shoe so that the quarter hugs the foot, and the shoe won’t stretch and slip off after a few wearings. You’ll find a counter on each side of the quarter of any quality shoe.”

“Thank you, sir,” McQuade said, executing a small smiling bow.

Griff smiled, too. “Not at all. Here, back to the ticket again. This tells them which sock lining to cut, and here are the pattern numbers to be pulled for cutting vamp and quarter, and vamp-and-quarter fleece, and… oh, everything’s on this ticket; see, here are the instructions for the Fitting Department, ‘Grograin binding on vamp and quarter,’ with ‘Trade accessories number thirty-two-B midnight blue,’ that may be a little bow or a sprig of flowers or a bell or whatever-the-hell; well, I’m sure this ticket doesn’t interest you, but it’ll give you some idea, anyway.” He handed the ticket back to the boy.

“Thanks, Jimmy,” McQuade said.

Jimmy nodded and rushed off to gather up his materials.

“And from here,” McQuade said, “the leather or fabric is taken to the cutters, is that right?”

“Yes, exactly. Do you see those boys and girls running around in the aisles? They’re pulling patterns from the drawers in the benches. By the time the leather is brought to the cutter, the patterns are waiting for him, too, and he can get right to work on the job. Remember the pattern number I showed you on the ticket? Well, that pattern is pulled from the drawers there. It’s made out of a hard cardboard composition, bound in brass so the cutters’ knives won’t ruin it after one or two uses.”

McQuade nodded.