Railroaders' Nostalgia > My Dumb Luck: the AFT years 47

47  Charleston, SC Nov. 12-15/ Savannah, GA Nov. 16-18

A funny thing happened on the way to Charleston. Just before leaving Florence, SCL inspectors had a look at the train. (Florence was where the Auto-Train was serviced and inspected as it passed through every night, so I'm guessing the place was a hot bed of this sort of thing) Anyway, they found a flat wheel on the 203 Car and so out it came and off we went.

The 203 was the Bar Car and it rode between the Pie Car and the Office Car. Most of the car was tables with a bar and serving area at the forward end. The official function of the car was entertaining the local hosts and politicians. But most of the time it was simply our dining room, as the Pie Car itself had only a counter and stools. The bar end of the car was up against the Pie Car so that when entertaining, they worked in conjunction. This was the same arrangement as the ATSF diner/dome, the SP triple unit, the Pennsy twin-unit, etc.
The car caught up with us the next day, but somewhere in the process it had gotten turned around and was placed back in the consist backwards! Chaos! This was a real mind-bender! You'd finish your diner, gather the dishes, and walk in on a meeting in the Office Car. Marty sure got tired of the constant stream of table-bussers stumbling onto her turf.
“OUT!” “OK OK ... jeez.”
(Consider for a moment having a room at the center of your own home suddenly turned inside out. The bathroom was always behind that door – so how come you're in the garage?) I think probably Ruthie (Queen Bee of “Entertaining the Swells”) was the one who had the clout to see that HER car was put right at the earliest convenience. I can't remember where the car was turned right, but it wasn't done immediately – I think maybe at the next stop.

Photo 1. Missing the 203.

Charleston was another military base, this one was the Charleston Army Depot. It was fairly typical with rows of warehousing served by rows of spur track. The local chapter of the National Railroad Historical Society seemed to have a home there on the base and were offering scenic train rides back and forth across part of the base. Not exactly Cumbres Pass, but the expectations bar was set low and everyone appeared happy enough. They had a little side rod Davenport pushing and pulling two coaches, one a heavy weight, the other light. For the faint of heart, who prefer their railroad artifacts be a bit more sedentary, there was Hampton & Branchville 44 (a Baldwin 4-6-0) on display. Southern Railway showed up with their “Best Friend of Charleston” reproduction 1830 locomotive and cars. We had seen these back in Columbus, Georgia, but here in Charleston they were somehow friendlier. I can't remember if they were giving rides or not. All and all, it was a diverse get-together locomotive wise!

Photo 2. Semi streamliner.
Photo 3. 44/4449
Photo 4. Best Friend(s?).

As a little side project, I had been working on a display sign for the 4449. It addressed most of the questions people asked about the locomotive (Specifications, history, etc) and was on plexiglass so that it could be lighted from behind. The Army base had a carpentry shop, and they happily agreed to make a light box/display stand for me. Cool! (You know, now that I think about it – I have no idea how I'd planned to accomplish this on my own.)

Photo 5. Signage. (is that a real word yet?)

Leaving Charleston I got my second shot at firing the '49. We participated somewhat in the switching moves to reassemble the train for the road, and that went well. But things turned nasty at 2:00AM when we were released to the SCL: A light rain, falling leaves, some tight curves, and a slight grade conspired to do in the 4449! I don't remember how far we got, but it wasn't much- over and over Doyle lost footing and the the drivers spun. Sand was no match for the conditions. I think he may have even tried the booster truck ( I checked: He doesn't remember). I was struggling to keep up with his throttle changes, trying not to blow off the firebox door when the she spun and he shut her down. (Okay, having all that mass suddenly cut loose like that probably doesn't do the '49 any good, and I tried my best to look concerned- but it was kinda bitch'n! Just say'n... ) Al tugged on my shirt sleeve- “You'd better seek cover- I'll take over” No kidding. Doyle wasn't even in his seat anymore- not happy. (For me it was the equivalent of having had him throw himself on a grenade to save me! Thanks Al.)
Eventually Doyle gave up. We knew there was an oncoming train about an hour out (Auto-Train, I think) and it was decided we'd simply wait and let them clean the rail. Savannah wasn't all that far off, maybe 100 miles or so, and I would be on the ramps unloading the flats as soon as we arrived. So I headed off to bed.

Savannah. ANOTHER military base – Hunter Army Airfield. This one was alongside a SCL yard, and the local switchers were a curious lot. I have photos of two of them.
First is of the gang riding back from having unloaded the flats aboard SCL 98. It (98) started out as ACL 44, an ALCo S-2 that, somewhere along the line, half-morphed into an EMD SW-something.

Photo 6. SCL 98

Even better yet: SCL 84. This one went from MD&S 1000, to SAL 1492, to the SCL 84 we saw. It still basically looked like a Baldwin VO-1000, but had also taken the EMD cool-aide. A friend of Craig's ('49 Crew member), Steve, was out for a few weeks to work as crew on the 4449, and together we got ourselves a cab ride on the 84. I don't remember where they took us, but riding around in a VO-1000 was right up there with the BL-2 and some of the others I saw that year.

Photo 7. SCL 84

Speaking of Steve, earlier that morning we came across an actual snake-in-the-grass (Yeah, they really have them). We entertained all sorts of sophomoric pranks we could play – pretty much all of them involving Doyle. (Doyle HATES snakes.) (A lot.)  The thing that saved Doyle (and ultimately us, when you get down to it.) was the fact that Steve had yet to collect on his promised 4449 cab ride.

Photo 8.

Besides, with both of us being Californians, we were not up on our eastern snakeology- for all we knew the stupid thing could kill him. And then Laurie, us.

We thought better of it – best not.

SR Bush
Dutch Flat

BTW: Steve grew up to be TO-member “Stevo de Weimario.” These days he lives just down the road, and we often (although hardly often enough) make the Chama, New Mexico, pilgrimage to attend Boilingman events.
 

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cont 2

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To Boilingman, thanks for the introduction, the lead-in and for all of effort of putting this series together for others to enjoy!

As S.R wrote, I was, and still am a friend of Craig (aka sp3204). We knew each other as members of a local model railroad club. In late 1975, he had an opportunity to join the Freedom Train crew, first as a volunteer, later as a paid employee. During his travels about the country we kept in touch by letters and the occasional phone call. I had talked about flying out and joining them for a short stint at some point, but lack of money to do it seemed to get in the way. By October of 76, I had saved enough to fund a 3 week visit. We discussed schedules and agreed that another club member and I would fly out and join the train in Florence, SC. Not too long before our trip, Craig called and mentioned that he had decided to take vacation during most of the time we’d be out there, so he wouldn’t be around - but not to worry, Doyle was expecting us.

If I recall correctly (remember, this was almost 40 years ago! Jeez…) we arrived in time to meet the rest of the engine crew, get into our coveralls and help replace a staybolt or two. Being the young and skinny one, I was nominated to work inside the firebox. Although the fire had been killed the day before, the firebox was still quite warm. I was advised to wear as many layers as possible.

“Won’t that make me kinda hot?”
“Naw, it’ll just seem hotter.”
“Uh, okay.”

Hot doesn’t describe it. Sweltering might be more accurate. But I wasn’t going to be the whiny newb, so I sucked it up. Besides, I wasn't alone.

While at that location, I do remember seeing a number of SCL trains with Columbia, Newberry and Laurens cabooses roll past.

From there, on to Charleston, SC. Charleston is where I first met S.R. and Dale (aka Palmdale, aka Blue 24, aka sp5312). We discovered a common railfan bond and once work was done one day, we decided to wander out and see what was around. After some amount of time, Dale chose to head back to the display site. S.R. and I continued on, squeezing through a gate at one end of the base and towards town. After a few miles of hiking, we came upon a small SCL locomotive servicing facility near a jumble of intersecting tracks. We wandered around a bit, and took a few roster pictures. At some point we thought that heading back to the display site might be a good idea, but truth be told, we weren’t entirely sure which way we needed to go. We thought that a switch crew getting ready to go on duty might help us.

“We’re trying to get back to the American Freedom Train, which way do we need to go?”
“Gonna go right past there, wanna ride?”
Duh…

Got to admit, mentioning that you were affiliated with the AFT certainly gave you some amount of street cred, but those were different times. Nowadays a crew would be more likely to report you, an offer of a ride just wouldn’t happen.

Once back at the display site, we came across the snake. A really big snake. Oh what to do, what to do? As was mentioned, Doyle hates snakes. So, rather than really piss off the man in charge, I opted to let said serpent go on about his/her business. The thought of screwing up my chance to ride in the cab was overshadowed by the fear that Doyle might sic Samantha on me.

Ah yes, Samantha. A dog. A Saint Bernard, to be exact. Samantha belonged to Doyle and Laurie, and they thought the world of her. For whatever reason, Samantha hated me from day one. As far as I was concerned, Samantha was pretty much everything evil rolled up and stuffed into a dog suit. Doyle knew it, too and enjoyed using it to his amusement. One day, I was by myself in the crew car when I heard something climb the steps into the car. I looked back to see Samantha heading, no, make that charging towards me. I jumped onto one of the top bunks and tried to stay out of sight. After some amount of time I looked over the edge. She was sitting there, patiently waiting for me. Well great, I’m trapped up here! A while later, a voice…

“Samantha!”
“She’s here, Doyle.”
“What’re you doing in there?”
“Nothing, why?”
“Samantha bothering you?”
“Not yet… Could you make her go away, please?”

Maybe I should have kept the snake around.

There are a few more stories I'll share later as we continue south. We were able to stay with the train until Jacksonville, FL. Then it was time to fly home.

I expect that something like the American Freedom Train will never happen again. Yet, for a short period of time, I was privileged to be a part of one of the greatest railroad adventures of all times. My sincere appreciation and thanks to everybody who participated and made it happen.

Happily, the friendships I made back then endure to this day. Craig and I stay in close contact, I don’t see Dale as much as I’d like, I need to work on that. S.R. and I get together for beer and burgers, necrophoaming (if you have to ask…) and the occasional trip to the happiest place on Earth. (Chama, NM, of course!)

S_W

I haven't been replying to these but have really been enjoying the stories! Thanks.

Andy

Steve...Only gone for days at that point of the trip. Didn't have that much vacation the whole time on the train, but I digress. Still amazing how lucky all of us were to take part in that wonderful experience. Hate to put this on such a public forum, but time for a Red Frog turn with SR...Please advise! Craig

Hey, I can pretty much Frog any time- but of course Wiener Wednesdays are kinda special...
SR