AN train 73 runs south with CIRR 1555 hauling south from the FGAR interchange at Chattahoochee as it passes through the community of Hardaway headed south for the GP plant at Hosford with a healthy, little train.
When people think of railroading in Florida, they often think of Class 1 giant, CSX Transportation or of the fast intermodal lanes of the Florida East Coast Railroad and, maybe, even the sugar cane of Clewiston’s US Sugar railroad. But there’s one candidate amongst all the short line railroading of Florida that’s been virtually forgotten about: The Apalachicola Northern Railway, now known the AN Railway Co, Under Genesee and Wyoming, Inc.
I grew up in the Florida Panhandle and lived in Crawfordville, situated about twenty-five miles south of Florida’s state capital, Tallahassee, for thirteen years. In my time as a teenager, when opportunity presented itself, I’d explore the CSX in Tallahassee and the local area or make my way to places such as the AN in Apalachicola or places like Greensboro or Chattahoochee. In my time, however, most of it was spent relying on my parents to tote me everywhere until I had a license and a truck to get down the road in. Like most railfans, armed with a scanner, a camera and some hope- I made it a priority to find things that always interested me and one thing is for sure, the AN did.
In 1968, Robert McMillan left the Chicago & Western Indiana. The new owners of the C&WI wanted to demolish the 47th Street Roundhouse due to the building falling into disrepair, so with no warning, on February 27, 1969, Dick Jensen received a notice that he had 30 days to vacate the property. Negotiations with the C&WI extended the deadline to June 1. Panicking, the Midwest Steam Railfan’s Association quickly removed everything they could from the roundhouse. Lots of the little things were loaded into Dick’s bread delivery truck and stored at his home in Forest Park, Illinois.
With no place to relocate the two disassembled CB&Q locomotives to, Dick and his crew desperately searched for a new storage site, even if it was temporary. At one point, there were ongoing discussions of bringing the 4963 and 5632 to the Illinois Railway Museum in Union, Illinois, but for reasons unknown, the plan never materialized, and the two engines remained in the roundhouse. (At the time, the 5629 was being stored in Detroit for excursion use there and besides some spare parts that Dick had kept in the roundhouse, it was uninvolved with this.)
“Items in the news remind us that a new generation has arisen that knows nothing of the intricacies of the three pedals of the old ‘Model T’ steerage or the most palatial suite of a modern luxury ocean liner or the cinders, soot, and smoke of the old coal burning steam locomotive. But those who do find various modes of expression for their particular sentimental attachment.” – Roy L. Peterson, Belvidere Daily Republican, September 25, 1967
There are around one thousand preserved steam locomotives in the United States today. Most are confined to parks or museums. The lucky few have been restored to operation and pull special trips several times per year, bringing the lucky passengers on a trip back in time. However, even after being preserved, some locomotives were still ultimately lost to the cutting torch. Locomotives that met such fate that come to mind include Texas & Pacific No. 638, Southern Pacific No. 743, and of course, the Chicago Burlington & Quincy No. 5632 and Grand Trunk Western No. 5629. This is the story of the latter two, the locomotives that they were preserved with, and the man behind it all—Dick Jensen, a pioneer in the effort to preserve steam locomotives.
Part I: A Passion For Steam
By 1924, the Grand Trunk Western Railway needed a steam locomotive that could haul passengers and do it fast. The answer was the K4 series of 4-6-2 Pacific type locomotives, the first of which (K4A) were erected at the American Locomotive Company’s shops in Schenectady, New York in January and February of 1924. (After the first order, the GTW would turn to Baldwin for future K4s). The K4As were equipped with 73-inch drivers and produced 41,000 pounds of tractive effort. Designed to pull commuter trains in Michigan, the engines could easily reach 100 miles an hour with a full passenger train (in the later years of their service, they also pulled freight trains).
When my mother asked me to write a story on my trips to Maybrook as a fireman for the Penn Central, I had to give it much thought. It had been more than twenty-nine years since I had been there and I had to dig deep to remember what a trip was like. They were all good ones because I never derailed or had any accidents on any of my trips. Some of the guys you worked with of course were better than others. What I mean by this is more of a personality angle than anything else. Some engineers were quiet and others would talk to you and explain things to you during the trip. Unfortunately some did not like having an “off division man” in the cab.
This is Dale Bryan, thirty-three-year-old Southern Pacific relief second-trick telegrapher-clerk at Paso Robles, California (Paso de Robles/pass of oaks) on a warm July evening in 1960. And these are the tools of his trade:
Clockwise: earphone; scissors phone; shelves for 3-, 5-, 7- and 9-copy blank train-order forms (with carbons at the ready); dispatcher’s loudspeaker; westbound and eastbound annunciators (‘bells’); Motorola radio; clearance cards; telephone line ‘jacks’; ‘O.S.’ sheet; levers for westbound and eastbound train-order semaphores (‘order boards’ on the SP); a red flag and of course a classic Underwood typewriter. Although he is still referred to officially as a ‘telegrapher,’ Dale no longer has Morse code in his job description: the key and sounder were removed three years earlier. The new-fangled Motorola is the future of train control.
By 1960 Paso Robles, with its single overhead bulb burning in the dark, was the only fully-open, 24-hour train-order office remaining between Santa Margarita (which is north of San Luis Obispo and at the foot of the Cuesta grade) and King City. This is a distance of 75 miles.
What I remember is the understated manner with which Dale handled his duties while engaged in a great enterprise with all its dangers and opportunities to make consequential mistakes. Train-orders on single track were often about taking time from superior trains and lending it to inferior ones. Dale needed to transcribe his dispatcher’s orders quickly and with complete accuracy because as little as a typo would invalidate the order and stop a train. What’s more, that error would be magnified over distance causing further delays and recalculations up the line. No pressure then!
And Paso Robles’ annunciators gave minimal warning. How much ground did No. 99, the westbound Coast Daylight, cover in two-and-a-half minutes? The classic Hollywood films High Noon (Gary Cooper) and Suddenly (Frank Sinatra) drew on the dramatic potential in a rural California station like Paso Robles. Cue the ticking clock and the unseen inevitability of a fast-closing express.
The railroad will always be about time and distance
SP No. 98 the southbound (SP eastbound) Coast Daylight by the Pacific Ocean at Surf, California (between San Luis Obispo and Santa Barbara) in 1960, watched by the first-trick operator and his wife. With a clear order-board the engineer can power through in Run 8. (Patrick E. Kelly Collection)
It’s worth remembering that the railroad in those days didn’t run only on rails. It ran also on an invisible matrix with real people passing detailed computations of time and distance from one to another. And these computations were of great importance, since the railroad was literally the main line of commerce and communication.
Now I guess it’s only natural that the sight of my old friend at his operator’s desk sixty years ago will shout analog, even if many of us do find historical railroad technology important and interesting. But whether analog or digital, steam or turbocharged diesel-electric, the railroad will always be about time and distance. From this modest station and using comparatively primitive and manually-dependent communications, time was given and time taken away. How many people could put that in their job description?
The town of Chesapeake Beach, Maryland is a town on the Chesapeake Bay. Today, it is a town with a water park, a resort, condos, and a restaurant overlooking the Chesapeake Bay. In the beginning, it was a completely different town. It began as a resort town to escape the hustle and bustle of Washington D.C. It had a beach, a carousel, roller coaster, bandshell, a boardwalk and a hotel. How did they get here? The Chesapeake Beach Railway was established to bring vacationers from Union Station in Washington D.C. to the Chesapeake Beach Train Station. As the train arrived in Chesapeake Beach, the passengers were just a short walk to everything. The town was a booming resort town, and the Chesapeake Beach Railway was a major contributor to the town’s success. What began in the late 1890’s… when into decline in the 1930’s. Vacationers were going to other resorts. There was a hotel the burned down. The Chesapeake Beach Railway was no more. The only thing of the old town of Chesapeake Beach that remains today is the Chesapeake Beach Train Station that remains in its original location, and it is the home of the Chesapeake Beach Railway Museum. The tracks are long gone, but there are some places where some of the old railroad bed remains.
