Ribbons & Frogs
by
Timothy A. Robieson, D.D.S.
Delivered to The Chicago Literary Club April 17, 1995
Every age recognizes its own pinnacle of current achievement.
The earliest hunter gatherer who was best able to knap a razor sharp edge
for a flint knife was the envy of his tribe. Through all the ages
improving and expanding visions have had a vast impact upon mankind.
In the 19th
and early 20th centuries one of the greatest things
to impact mans vision and achievement was the railroad. Its creation and
success depended upon the manufacturing of modern steel alloys and
efficient steam engines, these were some of the fruits of the progressing
world industrialization.
The people who ran the railroads were the best that there
were.
They were the leaders, the premium flint knappers of their time. The
dependable ones with the right stuff.
I have some personal connections with
railroading which color
my comments and responses to some more recent experiences. These will
follow later.
The main connection is the fact that my grandfather, James A.
Robieson, worked over fifty years as a station agent for the Soo Line
R.R.
My dad and his eight brothers and sisters grew up living above
the depot where grandpa worked. More accurately they grew up above,
around, below and throughout the depot.
Looking back on it today, it was sort of a
bucolic scene from the
old west.
Their depot was one of those cookie cutter train stations which
were developed for the railroads out of a practical necessity. Their
steam engines required water at regular intervals. Having a depot with a
living area gave the railroad company what it needed in a series of
manned and ready support stations. The complex locomotives and their
different varieties of rolling stock covered a lot of miles and had many
needs which required attention.
Having access to the railroad distribution system
created a lot
of business that wouldn't have otherwise existed. Many of the small
towns which the railroads nurtured were so new or rural that they had no
living accommodations for railroad agents.
It was also in the companies best interest
to foster stability by
having a family man who could staff their station in a dependable
fashion. The railroad company therefore provided him and his family a
substantial home not to mention all the coal needed to keep it toasty
warm throughout the winter.
In comparison to the small towns and farms around it,
the railway
depot was the very knife edge of progress. The telegraph, the mail,
fresh fruits & vegetables, everything from Montgomery Ward and Sears &
Roebuck came through the depot. So many supplies, pieces of equipment,
out of town visitors and news, virtually everything came by train &
telegraph and were routed through the railroad depot. It was rural
Americas "Main gate" to the outside world.
We don't have anything, that I can think
of, like depot living
today. I imagine living at a busy international airport would be the
closest thing today to the depot life of the early 1900's.
I have been told lots of stories
about many curious aspects of
depot life.
As an example, railroad company inspectors could arrive without
any warning at the depot on any train. The possibility of my grandpa
getting a "black mark" on his record through some infraction of the
rules by the kids, militated strict adherence to all known company codes.
Life was
sustained though, nurtured and molded by a good family
life and these sometimes unusual structures. Through the depression times
and a world war, rural electrification and agricultural modernization the
Robieson family thrived in that small Minnesota town.
I have a few personal memories
of the depot where my grandfather
worked and lived for so many years.
Summer vacations would find my family in Minnesota when I was young.
The annual automobile trip from our home in upstate New York to Minnesota
seems an appropriate subject for perhaps a different paper.
At the Soo Line depot in
Lowry, Minn. I remember being
fascinated by the blue sparks which the telegraph key made as I watched
my grandpa signalling to someone down the line. The receiving end of
the telegraph clicked from a wooden holder up high some place. It
warranted only half of a glance from me since it didn't make any blue
sparks and it was being activated by unseen hands from miles away. It was
so mind boggling that the staccato clicking from it really meant
something.
And also there were these huge levers which sprouted from the
floor next to my grandpa's desk by the depots bay window. He smiled as we
tried to move the levers. For a small person they were impossible to
move. That was a good thing too, since they activate the signal arms that
direct the train traffic to stop or to go.
Grandpa would allow kids to follow him out
onto the platform when
a train went roaring through. When given the "highball" signal, the train
didn't seem to slow down a bit. As the massive engine got closer the
noise became very frightening. I couldn't stand the pressure of that
excitement. When the caboose had faded from view and conversation was
again possible after the noise level was normal I could come back out of
the freight house where I had run for safety. Grandpa would calmly state
that he hadn't ever had a train come up on the platform yet. To a kid,
facing that intense noise and wind and massive speeding train engine so
close, was truly awesome.
Most of the wood on the railroad smells of creosote
preservative.
The telegraph/telephone poles, the platform, and the railroad ties. Now,
whenever I encounter the smell of creosoted wood warmed by the summer's
sun I'm instantly transported back to that depot and those magical
memories.
The last thing I'll mention which was a curiosity to me at the
time was the telephone which grandpa had mounted by the windows on an
accordion like extension. We weren't to fool around with stuff in
grandpa's office, but pulling this telephone back and forth a little
never seemed to bother anyone who happened to be watching.
To most people's
perspective now, this late in the 20th century,
railroads are just a mundane part of our transportation system. A part of
our nation's ageing and deteriorating "infrastructure".
As a means of transporting
people in 1995, trains are most
effective in moving suburbanites to and from work and for occasional
shopping trips downtown. People don't ride trains for long trips like
they did before because now they don't have to.
For all the ballyhoo of how wonderful
long distance passenger
travel was in the old days, and for some it may have been so, passenger
traffic was something that the railroad companies only endured out of
legal necessity. Providing passenger service is very inefficient. Hauling
freight was and is the only way for the railroad to make money. When the
government allowed the railroad companies to stop providing passenger
service they couldn't drop it fast enough.
Long distance train travel for passengers is
now the sole domain
of Amtrak. Amtrak is truly like our nation's post office with wheels. It
cannot provide quality service at a profit. It is heavily subsidized and
suffers the usual maladies of government agencies. When it is good, it
is very very good. When it is bad it is horrid. In my family's most
recent train travels we experienced both extremes.
My enthusiasm for riding Amtrak was perhaps only just slightly ahead
of not taking the trip at all. The contrast with other transportation
modes is very strong. The public clearly favors air planes and the
automobile for traveling.
The cost though of air travel can sometimes influence a
person's
choice of travel mode.
We opted for a train trip to Southern California two years age
because we could get all six of us to the West Coast and back including
two stopovers for less than $1,000.00 total. Flying would have been
faster but it was too much for our budget. Driving was too slow and the
wear and tear on our car and my nerves could have made it more expensive
than flying.
The purported duration of our train trip to Los Angeles from
Chicago's Union Station was to be forty-two hours, departing here at
3:40PM and arriving L.A. before noon less than two days later. The
southern route is the fastest to the west coast because the tracks are
better and trains are allowed to go over eighty m.p.h. There is no
national speed limit for trains, whomever owns the tracks sets the speed
limit. The southern right of way is owned by the SantaFe and they let
trains go fast because of the superior quality of the rails and roadbeds.
Here are some
facts about tracks. Or if you prefer, here is why
the title of my paper is Ribbons & Frogs.
Our modern high speed railroads developed
from some pretty rough
beginnings. The first train tracks, made back in England, were wooden
planks with angle irons attached on top to keep wagon wheels from
slipping off. They were a good beginning but the iron was soft and the
weight of the traffic caused excessive wearing and constant expensive
repairs.
Stronger steel alloys were fabricated and the angle iron concept
for keeping the wheels on track was switched from the track to the
wheels. This gives us the current shape of our modern trains wheels.
A major
improvement in rail construction came with the
fabrication of very long lengths of steel rail which are joined together
with a diagonal weld. These modern tracks are called "ribbon rails". They
are virtually one piece and do not have the usual butt joints at short
intervals and so passengers are not tormented with the old clickety
clack, clickety clack of traditional trains.
This improvement helped but did not
eliminate some of the more
heavy rail noises that come when a trains wheel cross over a "frog".
These are railroad
"frogs" not the amphibious variety. There are
occasions when large number of railroad frogs spend time under water,
especially in Iowa during the heavy spring rains. The railroad frog is an
X shaped piece of track that allows trains to be switched from one line
to another. It also allows for intersecting tracks to cross one another.
The large grooves needed to accommodate the overlapping steel angle iron
from the trains wheels makes a lot of racket as the trains pass over
them. For the most part though, "frogs" are spaced far enough apart and
are at irregular intervals so that they do not become all that obnoxious
to the weary travelers.
Speaking of weary travelers, early in the afternoon on our first
day out of Chicago, one weary traveler, a lady, came to the front of our
coach on her way to the next car. She paused a moment at the passage way
near our seats, and vomited in the linoleum entry way. Her stomach
contents seemed mainly liquid and there wasn't too much of it. I was
certain that some of our "stuff" that we had piled in the front of the
coach got splattered by her discomfort. What can you do?
We rang for the coach
attendant who came reasonably quickly. The
poor lady tottered of to her seat and the coach attendant was left with
the clean up chores.
After looking the mess over some, he departed for clean-up
equipment. What he returned with was a complete surprise to all of us. We
had expected mops, buckets and air deodorant. What he came back with were
several bags of coffee grounds and newspapers. He tore open the foil bags
of coffee and sprinkled two or three pounds of fresh coffee grounds over
the mess. On top of that he spread newspapers. That was it. He left it
there for about an hour. When he returned he wadded up the damp
newspapers and swept up the coffee grounds. That was it, the job was
done.
The coffee and papers absorbed the liquid. The coffee instantly
deodorized the situation. Upon completion of the clean up there were no
stains on the floor and just a hint of coffee smell left over.
Score a big win there for
that Amtrak attendant and Juan Valdez!
Lots of wide open territory is seen through
the southern Midwest.
It is monotonous and gets to be like wallpaper pretty quickly. Before you
know it you start looking forward to every town, big or little, for more
distinctive scenery. Of course the parts of towns that the train goes
through is usually not the best.
So many fleeting scenes. The imagination constantly
wanders as
eyes flit from trees to towns to cars to people to backyards and barns
and rivers and streams and schools and factories and farms. It is like
the button is stuck on the fast forward of your VCR. The tape may be
titled, "People, places and things at a moment in time." It is like
living snapshots or postcards. It is a little sad that there is no way to
stop a single frame or section to study and get to know it. Only ones
imagination can fill in the blanks, and that will only be with
suppositions and assumptions. That is all fantasy of course and after a
long string of such fantasies, time and miles pass.
On our return trip we needed to go
the northern route in order
for my family, all except for me, to get off the train in Denver for a
couple of weeks visit with our mountain dwelling side of the clan. This
route goes through some areas where much slower speeds are required due
to mountains and poorer track. The estimated travel time back from
California was to be more than 50 hours. The track for most of the return
trip is owned by Conrail, and Amtrak gets the caution light to slow down.
We traveled
Coach Class. There are more comfortable private
compartments available. But the cost of a private compartment would have
put us into the air travel price range with none of the benefit. Coach
travel has the added benefit of allowing a lot more social interaction
with other travelers.
Our return trip from the West coast was more eventful than our
trip out. The night prior to our departure from San Diego, southern
California experienced one of its rare lightening storms. The rains were
brutally heavy. Upon checking in at the SantaFe railroad station in San
Diego we were informed that a bridge up the line had been washed out by
the storm and that we would be put onto charter buses to be taken to the
Amtrak station in Fullerton, Calif. to begin our trip east.
It was only an hour or so trip
up the coast and was no big
inconvenience, but this was definitely a harbinger of things to come.
We waited a
couple hours with intermittent showers in a breezeway
at the Fullerton train station. They had train engine difficulties in Los
Angeles we were told. When the train came we boarded it piecemeal from
the shelter of the station. We had way more stuff than we could all carry
at one time. It was so awkward because we had so much carry on baggage.
The coach we were directed to was a way down the track. It was on the
middle of three sets of tracks. Since there is no assigned seating, so we
felt the pressure of needing to get aboard quickly to find adjacent
seating for a family of six. We had expected to board an empty train in
San Diego and had hoped to get the front seats again. It all worked out
o.k. and with a gasp we finally settled in for our homeward journey.
We were now
seasoned train travelers so we enjoyed the vistas
from our train as long as the daylight held out. The hills and mountains
of Southern California held our attention
and we looked forward to the real mountain scenery we would be enjoying
in Colorado.
That evening we watched two movies in the lounge car and very
much later that night we pulled into Lost Wages, Nevada.
The rain storms from the
nights before had also dumped mightily
on the that city and as the train pulled through town, severe flooding
could be seen in some areas.
Word was passed to us over the intercom that there had
been a
rock slide in the mountains and that we would be getting on board buses
in Las Vegas for an overnight bus ride to Salt Lake City, Utah, where we
would re-board another train to continue our odyssey.
The Las Vegas station was
undergoing remodeling and the walkway
from the train to the buses was under four inches of water. Little effort
by railway employees was made to help with the transfer to the busses and
most passengers wound up with wet shoes and socks.
A semi-truck trailer had pulled
along side of our train while we
were stopped. It was a tanker and I presumed it was refueling the train
for its return trip to Los Angeles. Why I wondered would a semi-truck
trailer be allowed to pull up along side our train to refuel, but busses
for transferring us passengers and our baggage have to remain parked on
the other side of that watery construction zone? Amtrak's somewhat
checkered reputation became more apparent a little later. While we
awaited departure on our bus I overheard an interesting transmission on
our bus driver's FM walkie talkie. It sounded something like,"It's O.K.
to go now we got the money". Then we left.
Quickly the bright lights of the casino
capital were left behind.
We wound our way through dark mountains and in a while our caravan of
three large tour buses stopped at a mountainside casino for a breakfast
break. This was at about three o'clock in the morning. The place was
still busy with gamblers even at that hour. The coffee shop took good
care of all of us and the food was satisfying and reasonable.
The rest of the bus trip to
Salt Lake City was filled with fitful
attempts at sleep punctuated by a couple of stretching and refueling
stops. I reminded myself that if I felt cramped and uncomfortable, just
how did those train passengers who had booked private sleeping
compartments feel?
At the rest stops and for a breath of fresh air we got off the
bus. It is noteworthy the contrast in counter merchandise between
gasoline stations in Nevada and those in Utah. The influence of Las Vegas
pretty much stops at the border. Much more family oriented stuff is for
sale in Utah.
Salt Lake City was bleak and snowy when we arrived and
transferred to our Amtrak coach. We knew we were getting close to Denver.
My wife and kids were becoming more excited about seeing relatives and I
felt relieved that this was the last of our unforeseen trials. That was
wishful thinking!
West of Grand Junction, our trip was interrupted by a sudden
emergency stop. It was a classic sudden stop just like out of the old
west. Someone had decided that this gently winding curve was a good
place to get off the train. After pulling the emergency stop lever, our
train's brakes were vigorously engaged and we came to a screeching halt
with the smell of burning brake shoes and hot steel rails.
Within a few moments the
"Train Master" was directed by someone
over the intercom to look out to the right side of our train. Of course
we all looked too. Some way off a man carrying a black plastic bag pieced
through the snow, turned for a moment to wave to us and around again and
then off he went.
It was at least half an hour before we got started again and by
late afternoon we pulled into Grand Junction.
At the station the local police came on
board and gingerly
escorted two people off. They had been fingered by someone as having been
traveling with the man who had jumped off our train in the middle of
nowhere.
At some additional length of time we pulled out of Grand Junction
for a slow nighttime pull through the mountains toward Denver.
Midnight finds our
train slowly backing into Denver station. Our
family is greeted in the cavernous grand salon style waiting area of the
station by "Uncle Bob" and kids. Our family traded their warm climate
gear which we used in California for the cold weather garments which we
had carried to and from California in preparation for this Denver stop.
For my part I have to get home and go back to work and so I am getting
back on the train. My next stop is Naperville where I'll be met by
another "Uncle Bob".
I have mountains of carry-on baggage because in order to
detrain
at Naperville all belongings must be with me. The train personnel are not
able to root around in their baggage car for people at every stop between
Denver and Chicago's Union Station.
I instruct everyone to just leave the things they
won't need in
Colorado with me on the train. I will only have to push the stuff off
onto the platform in Naperville and I know I will have plenty of help
there.
After the kisses and good-byes I re-board the train and sort out
the luggage bags in the overhead compartments and various coolers,
blankets and pillows. Several bags get stowed in the open luggage
compartments on the lower level of the coach. These are great for the
bulky suitcases.
A cute little family boarded the coach at this time and I moved
all our things back a couple of seats so they could occupy the more
spacious front seats. As they settled into our former area I couldn't
help noticing how much of a replay it was of our own trip. As an observer
I watch another family go through all the same motions which we had just
hours before.
With my belongings properly stowed the lights were turned down
and we awaited our departure from Denver. I covered myself with a blanket
and dozed for a while on a pillow. When I awoke it was still Denver
station which I saw through the window. It is three a.m. and we haven't
left Denver yet. I slept a while longer and the vista outside did not
change. Light poles painted railroad green stood with dingy looking
incandescent bulbs. This fitful watch continued the same until dawn.
Around 6 a.m.,
when Amtrak personnel deemed it appropriate, word
was passed that there had been a derailment outside of Denver and they
would be busing us to the town of Fort Morgan about an hour away.
There was, by
now, something consistent about this process for
me. It took a few minutes though for me to appreciate what my task now
was.
All the baggage, blankets, pillows, coolers magazines, food,
cameras, tripods, etc. etc. have to be taken down through Denver station
and loaded onto a bus by myself. Thankfully time was not a problem.
We had plenty
of time. It is interesting to observe that in most
of the difficulties which we experienced on our trip, the employees of
Amtrak seemed to be as much victims of process as were we the passengers.
My stuff
got loaded eventually and then we were headed on the
interstate to Fort Morgan. The roads were slush covered and seemed pretty
slick.
We found the town and an Amtrak superliner straddling at least
two of the small towns main streets. A small old depot, the kind with no
living quarters, was about to play host to two trainloads of passengers
and luggage.
Now, again, I had to move all my worldly goods from the bus back
to the next train. I first took a few light things with me just to find
out which coach to board and to get on and claim a seat. At least I only
needed one seat this time. People were still getting off the train and
interestingly enough heading for "our buses".
With no clear idea of which coach I was
headed for I proceeded
inside the station to find an empty chair in the corner of the small
waiting room. I deposited the camera, tripod, coat and cooler and headed
back to the bus for what was to be one of several more trips to collect
everything. I had stuff crammed in the overhead, under the seats and in
the baggage compartment of the bus. In the process I stepped through
piles of snow and slush with unprotected and unsuitable shoes. I really
felt like I was learning what it was like to be a war refugee. I was
concerned about having things stolen as I played "put and take" with all
of it. I found it necessary to just pile it, one load at a time, until it
was all together in one spot. Then after the things from the bus were
unloaded into the waiting room we waited for the Amtrak personnel to
designate a door for us for to board the train. When that was decided, I
began my trips from the waiting room to the train. No one took anything
from the piles of stuff I moved from spot to spot and for that I was very
pleased and thankful!
It was around 9 a.m. when it seemed to me that all of us
eastbound passengers had boarded the train from the buses. The westbound
passengers from the train had long since left on those same buses for
their connection with Denver. There was about three more hours of waiting
before the train left Fort Morgan, with no explanation for those hours.
This is what I
surmised about what occurred over those past
twelve or so hours.
Beginning with the arrival of our train at Denver after
midnight, my guess is that they knew full well at that time that there
was a derailed train and that we were going to need to be bused to Fort
Morgan in order to bypass it. If they had informed us of this quickly
they may have been obligated to provide hotel rooms and transportation
for a whole train full of people. They didn't let on about it though and
so we enjoyed the pleasure of sleeping on hotel Amtrak.
Buses were arranged for in
the morning for the passengers, but I
believe they had to wait for the Ryder truck rental business to open up
after nine to get trucks to move the checked baggage, freight and mail
from the first train in Denver to the new train in Fort Morgan. I would
further guess that they waited for the union hall to open for business in
order to hire handlers for all of the baggage car stuff.
The long transcontinental
Amtrak train held the town of Fort
Morgan and its downtown traffic hostage for the better part of 12 hours.
Being
stopped in a small town like that allows you to see how big
the train really is.
Passenger cars on modern transcontinental trains are massive
double deck things. Most of the regular seating is on the upper level.
What I saw of lower level seating was reserved for disabled persons who
would have difficulty climbing the very narrow and winding stairs to the
upper level.
The lower level is where the toilets are along with some
additional baggage storage areas. The toilets are adequate but very prone
to stoppage if abused, and so we were warned repeatedly prior to
departure and at other stops over the Public Address not to flush paper
towels and to be sure to accompany children so they don't plug up the
toilets.
Using the electrical outlet in the bathroom for my shaver was a
little iffy as the circuits seemed to frequently be out of order. I'll
bring a safety razor with shaving cream next time and save that hassle.
The "Club" car
has an observation car seating arrangement on the
upper level. Centrally located on this level was a stainless steel
serving area (rarely used) which sprouted a convenient 110 volt outlet
where I took advantage and recharged batteries for my movie camera a
couple times.
The lower level of this same car is the lounge/snack bar. In
between meal snacks are very popular with the kids. Hot Dogs, Pizza,
Coffee & Donuts etc. are moderately priced and they give you and the kids
something to do while looking out the windows and watching the miles clip
along.
Closed circuit televisions in the upper and lower levels of the
club car play current movies after dark. The viewing out the windows
after dark is usually not too interesting.
On one occasion though, late at night as our
train wound its way
through snow covered mountains, I saw the most beautiful thing.
Occasionally on a gentle bend in the tracks the bright headlight from the
front of the train would play upon the surrounding hills which, being
snow covered, reflected back a most picturesque image. Our train with
the surrounding snow covered mountain hills was all at once a living
Christmas Card. The effect was momentary as the tracks straightened out
and the lights were no longer visible from sleepy eyes. Eyes that
strained and hoped for another bend in the tracks and a another replay of
that unexpected treat. It seemed almost like a private viewing for me
since things were so quiet and the expectation was that everyone else was
sound asleep.
Train traffic, on parallel tracks, going in the opposite
direction is very common and worth mentioning for at least two reasons.
First there is no warning when it is coming. It is very sudden. Secondly
the sound of a massive speeding locomotive at a relative speed of over a
110 m.p.h. traveling just a few feet away is a little frightening. It
seems like it really ought to be even louder. It is a momentary high
energy whooshing sound. Following that the cars by themselves make almost
no sounds at all. Soundproofing on today's passenger trains must be very
good. After a while the whooshing from passing trains make very little
impact on you as you continue to marvel at the masses and speeds involved
in these things.
Coach class seating is quite spacious. Reclining seats and
adjustable foot rests help with comfort. A bit of additional room for
carry on baggage is available to the first seats in the front of each
car. Since there were six of us we tried to get front seats and made very
good use of the extra floor space for our "stuff" when we could.
All is not rosy
however with the first seat positions. At night
when lights are dimmed for sleeping, the passage way between cars remains
lighted. As people pass through the car on the way to or from the club
car, the automatic door slides open and the outside noises intrude for a
few moments until the door again slides closed. It takes some accepting
and getting used to. This sporadic activity slows down at night but never
ends.
The train makes stops at various towns and cities all through the
day and night. For the novelty I kept a list of the towns and at what
time we arrived there. It is not always easy to figure out which stop is
which. Many of the smaller towns and even some larger cities may have
poor signage facing the window through which you may happen to be
looking. Since I wrote many of the names down have enjoyed reviewing
their listing. With many of them I can recall the pictures recorded in my
mind of what I saw and those images I now associate with their names.
We have made
one more train trip to Denver and back since our big
train trip to California. That trip of a single days duration is about as
much Amtrak as I like. I don't mind encouraging others to try American
style train travel. Just plan on having a bit of adventure and be
flexible. Don't schedule yourself too tightly.
With a pioneering spirit there is an
adventure waiting for you
between the ribbons and the frogs.
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