Early Railroad memories, part three
Steam locomotives were a central focus of my pre-school developing attention span. I remember them more than anything else in what I did not know was the very end of the closing act of the grand pageant of classic golden-era American railroading. Railroads went everywhere and did everything. They carried everything. Everyone rode trains. There was a great mystique and aura of romance about them. But it was not to last but another short couple of years.
We rarely passed the T&NO depot at any other time of the day than early to mid afternoon. But for some reason, one day my mother drove past there, with me in the car, in mid morning. Just to the east of the Corrine Street crossing was the western end of the depot passenger platform, with a water column for the steam engines on the passenger trains to top off the water tank during a station stop. As we crossed of the track, on my side of the car, I could see the water column just topping off a Vanderbilt tender, the engine facing eastbound and the cylindrical tank rear of the tender being nearest to me. The fireman up on the tender deck was not being very careful, and water was splashing and spraying everywhere, and running all down the sides of the tender tank and onto the platform. I was looking into the sun, and all of this kinetic water action was catching the light and sparkling intensely, not unlike a natural waterfall, making quite an impression on a kid.
Many years later, when I started going to the depot on my own to watch the daily drama of No. 5 and No. 2 calling at the depot within a half-hour of each other, I saw a large metal plate set into the concrete of the platform down by Corinne Street and realized it was where the water column had been. Believe it or not, it is still there, certainly with an underground pipe leading from it to where the water tank had been... undoubtably still holding water that didn't quite make it to a locomotive.
In those days, you could not get a hamburger from some fast food place on every corner. When my father decided we were going to have hamburgers for supper, the only place in town to get them was a joint called Johnny's down on Hopkins Street, one block west of Corinne Street, near the depot and right at the T&NO crossing and where Washington Street crossed Hopkins Street while paralleling the track. One evening toward sundown my father drove to Johnny's to pick up supper, and parked facing west on Washington Street alongside Johnny's. Johnny's was a rundown bar, so he could not bring me inside with him, but rather left me in the car while he ran in. This was very good for me because while he was in there an eastbound steam freight came stomping by and past in great glory. I remember that silver smokebox front and centered headlight like it was yesterday. I also recall this train having a cupola caboose, the last time I ever saw one on a mainline train since bay window cars were taking over.
Also, while I was waiting in the car, I spotted a yellow-painted metal device on top of a rail of a spur track across the street. I later learned this was called a "derail," a device designed to prevent a runaway car from rolling onto the main. Of course, when we got home, I had to have such a thing on my Lionel track. I got a piece of yellow modeling clay, pressed it all around the rail, and it was the best looking derail I ever saw.
There's still more T&NO steam, then I'll get to the MP.
Steam locomotives were a central focus of my pre-school developing attention span. I remember them more than anything else in what I did not know was the very end of the closing act of the grand pageant of classic golden-era American railroading. Railroads went everywhere and did everything. They carried everything. Everyone rode trains. There was a great mystique and aura of romance about them. But it was not to last but another short couple of years.
We rarely passed the T&NO depot at any other time of the day than early to mid afternoon. But for some reason, one day my mother drove past there, with me in the car, in mid morning. Just to the east of the Corrine Street crossing was the western end of the depot passenger platform, with a water column for the steam engines on the passenger trains to top off the water tank during a station stop. As we crossed of the track, on my side of the car, I could see the water column just topping off a Vanderbilt tender, the engine facing eastbound and the cylindrical tank rear of the tender being nearest to me. The fireman up on the tender deck was not being very careful, and water was splashing and spraying everywhere, and running all down the sides of the tender tank and onto the platform. I was looking into the sun, and all of this kinetic water action was catching the light and sparkling intensely, not unlike a natural waterfall, making quite an impression on a kid.
Many years later, when I started going to the depot on my own to watch the daily drama of No. 5 and No. 2 calling at the depot within a half-hour of each other, I saw a large metal plate set into the concrete of the platform down by Corinne Street and realized it was where the water column had been. Believe it or not, it is still there, certainly with an underground pipe leading from it to where the water tank had been... undoubtably still holding water that didn't quite make it to a locomotive.
In those days, you could not get a hamburger from some fast food place on every corner. When my father decided we were going to have hamburgers for supper, the only place in town to get them was a joint called Johnny's down on Hopkins Street, one block west of Corinne Street, near the depot and right at the T&NO crossing and where Washington Street crossed Hopkins Street while paralleling the track. One evening toward sundown my father drove to Johnny's to pick up supper, and parked facing west on Washington Street alongside Johnny's. Johnny's was a rundown bar, so he could not bring me inside with him, but rather left me in the car while he ran in. This was very good for me because while he was in there an eastbound steam freight came stomping by and past in great glory. I remember that silver smokebox front and centered headlight like it was yesterday. I also recall this train having a cupola caboose, the last time I ever saw one on a mainline train since bay window cars were taking over.
Also, while I was waiting in the car, I spotted a yellow-painted metal device on top of a rail of a spur track across the street. I later learned this was called a "derail," a device designed to prevent a runaway car from rolling onto the main. Of course, when we got home, I had to have such a thing on my Lionel track. I got a piece of yellow modeling clay, pressed it all around the rail, and it was the best looking derail I ever saw.
There's still more T&NO steam, then I'll get to the MP.