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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