prevent deterioration—and nowhere does the policy of economy which Mr. Rockefeller has worked out show better than in one of the Standard canning works. In 1902 the writer visited the largest of the Standard can factories, the Devoe, on the East River, Long Island City. It has a capacity of 70,000 five-gallon cans a day, and is probably the largest can factory in the world. At the entrance of the place a man was sweeping up carefully the dirt on the floor and wheeling it away—not to be dumped in the river, however. The dirt was to be sifted for tin filings and solder dust. At every step something was saved. The Standard buys the tin for its cans in Wales, because it is cheaper. It would not be cheaper if it were not for a vagary in administering the tariff by which the duty on tin plate is refunded if the tin is made into receptacles to be exported. This clause was probably made for the benefit of the Standard, it being the largest single consumer of tin plate in the United States. In 1901 the Standard Oil Company imported over 60,000 tons of tin with a value of over $1,000,000. This tin comes in sheets packed in flat boxes, which are opened by throwing—it is quicker than opening by a hammer, and time is considered as valuable as tin filings. The empty boxes are sold by the hundred to the Long Island gardens for growing plants in, and the broken covers are sold for kindling. The trimmings which result from shaping the tin sheets for a can are gathered into bundles and sold to chemical works or foundries. There is the same care taken with solder as with tin, the amount each workman uses being carefully gauged. The canning plants, like the refineries, compare their results monthly, and the laurels go to the manager who has saved the most ounces of solder, the most hours, the most footsteps.
The five-gallon can turned out at the Devoe is a marvel of evolution. The present methods of manufacture are almost entirely the work of Herman Miller, known in Standard
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