Railroaders' Nostalgia > Conversations with the boss-6

Today, I read something here that reminded me of an encounter with a young, fresh out of college, hotshot, rising star Assistant Trainmaster.

I was third trick operator at BN Bellingham WA in oh...probably late 1978. Train 184 was the "hot" night Seattle-Vancouver BC freight. Standard power was F7s and/or GP9s - three of them. The train was usually full tonnage, or more, for the ruling grade, 1%.

The ruling grade began at the north end of Bellingham yard, about a mile north of the station. A quarter mile south of the station was a 6 degree curve. The speed limit was 20 mph because of the proximity of trucks in the Georgia Pacific paper mill that the the main track bisected. During the day, they had a nasty habit of getting out to foul while turning to back into the bays. Truck shipping and receiving was closed nights, so there were no trucks. South of the curve, the speed limit was 35 mph.

There were three grade crossings, just crossbucks, no signals, between the curve and the south end of the yard, just north of the station. The municipal speed limit was 10 mph over the crossings. Track speed was 20 mph over the crossings then 40 mph north of there.

If 184 went through Bellingham at the speed limit, they would stall on the grade north of Bellingham and need to double to Ferndale, about 8 miles. The regular engineers were well-known for...uh...getting across the road, let's say. It's been a long time and I remember this crew well so I'll mention them - Conductor ES Berget and engineer Gene Tasche.

It was easy to hear 184 coming through South Bellingham, about 3 1/2 miles, from inside the telegraph office. I went out on the platform when they were showing coming through GP, at the north end of the curve. Left over from B&OCT days, where we preceded signs with an identifier sign to make sure that everyone understood that they were looking at the right light or hand sign, I preceded a highball with a kick sign, kind of appropriate for the location and situation.

184 started by at about 40 mph, a glimpse of the engineer's hand out the window answering my highball and the rest was the noise of three 567s in the 8th notch and the rattle, bang, squeak, of a freight train going by at 40 mph. Cars were rocking and bouncing as they did every night, and staying on the railroad as they did every night.

About a quarter of the train was by me when I was blinded by a rising star. This guy was standing next to me with shiny new work boots and pressed khakis. He had a brand new lantern. As he was watching the show, he was crouching and standing and crouching and standing and shining his light in different places on the running gear.

About 3/4 of the train was by; I could see the markers out of the curve. He got close and said "What's the speed limit here?"

"20" I didn't mention the municipal speed.

"How fast is this train going?" raising his voice even more to be heard over the din.

The conductor on this job used to ride the steps coming by me. I could see his light appearing as he was about 30 cars away. As I gave a kick sign and a highball, I replied "Hell, I don't know. I'm just an operator, I'm not qualified to know that."

In a flash, there was a highball from the conductor as my visitor gave a very proper highball. I gave another kick sign - have a good trip. 184 would make Ferndale in one piece again tonight and be in Vancouver in about three hours. My visitor said "Oh, ok" and disappeared into the night as quickly as he appeared.

I don't remember his name, but he rose to be VP Intermodal.

Years later, I was working on service design, capacity, and passenger projects. He was in Seattle for something or other and stopped in my office (I don't think he remembered the night on the platform at Bellignham about 15 years previous). He said that he heard that I was involved in passenger projects and they were bad business; I should stay away from them. I replied "The grain guys were here this morning telling me the same thing about your trains."

The conversation ended there.

TAW

I really like your stories. Very funny.

What makes me laugh is that the railroad really hasn't changed in a long time. I'm working on year 16. I've railroaded about 1800 miles of track and your stories hit home every time I read them.


Joe

joeygooganelli Wrote:
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> What makes me laugh is that the railroad really
> hasn't changed in a long time. I'm working on
> year 16. I've railroaded about 1800 miles of
> track and your stories hit home every time I read
> them.


Yeah, kinda like Dilbert, isn't it?

TAW

I think to do well, you really must be interested in railroading. With the right attitude and presenting yourself properly, a young college grad can do well. Need to mostly listen, ask questions and observe for a long time. Management training programs should tell this to the new guys, but I suspect they do not. There is also a societal problem that new grads can bring too, because of the way young people are raised and what they are taught: a focus on themselves and making money.

RRTom Wrote:
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> I think to do well, you really must be interested
> in railroading. With the right attitude and
> presenting yourself properly, a young college grad
> can do well.

That applies to any profession or trade.

>Need to mostly listen, ask questions
> and observe for a long time.

They think a university degree means know everything and nobody else knows anything. Unfortunately I have encountered the same in many college of railroad knowledge graduates. Actually, we discovered that at BN the dispatcher school was teaching them that they indeed knew everything and never pay attention to those burned out old guys. It got so bad that I refused to break in new guys.


>Management training
> programs should tell this to the new guys, but I
> suspect they do not.

In my experience...no.

>There is also a societal
> problem that new grads can bring too, because of
> the way young people are raised and what they are
> taught: a focus on themselves and making money.

That in itself is a huge and pervasive problem.

TAW