Railroaders' Nostalgia > Well, there's sumpthin wrong with these brakes!

In the course of a career in engine service there is almost always a period of time after earning that coveted engineers 'date' that
you find yourself demoted to to the fireman's ranks. Business levels fall and rise based on factors beyond your control and one day
you find yourself cut-back to a fireman's job or in more modern times to a conductors job. Such was my case in this next bit of nostalgia.

Someone once said: 'If you can't say something nice about a person, it's better that you say nothing at all'. With that adage in mind I'm
changing the name of the principal character in this tale to, we'll say "Bill".

I had been cut-back to fireman's jobs in the early 1980's on the Burlington Northern working out of Seattle and one morning I was called as fireman on train 795.
Amtrak's number for the train was No. 25 The Pioneer,  which ran from Seattle to, I believe, Salt Lake City where it's equipment was
combined with The Desert Wind and moved on to Chicago.

The passenger crew assignments that BN used for this train called for the crew to take 795 to Portland where we would
obtain an 'Hours of Service Release' meaning we were not going to get the full 8 hours off duty but somewhat less than 8 but more than 4 hours.  
Following this release the same crew would be called on duty again and handled the northbound Pioneer, train 798, back to Seattle. Both 795 and 798
usually consisted of a single F-40 and about 5 cars which included a sleeper. A long day awaited.

My engineer that day was "Bill". Bill had hired out on the Great Northern in the 1940's, had fought on Okinawa while in the U.S. Marines and was awarded
the Purple Heart for injuries suffered there. He might have tipped the scales at 150 lbs, dripping wet. Bill exhibited a physical body of one many years
his junior, lean, leathery and to go with that had a reputation of being a quite a bar room brawler. I had fired for Bill prior to this trip and was somewhat
familiar with some of his quirkiness. His nervous energy was evident in the manner in which he ran an engine. The phrase 'Perpetual motion' comes to mind.
Whistling, bell on and off, throttle manipulation up and down, set the air, bail off the independents, whistle, bell; release the air; never ending motion.
That was Bill. A fireman was 'just along for the ride', thank you. He did it all. Which was fine with me except that sometimes in Bills operation rules and
good train handling shuffled to the back for the sake of 'gettin' over the road'. I found that I had to watch Bill closely lest he over look a slow order or maybe
something more critical. I had spoken to others of my experiences with Bill and found that I was not alone in my findings. The fact was that no one wanted to
work with Bill. He was an accident waiting to happen.

We had an otherwise uneventful trip to Portland and I was able to get a couple of hours sleep on our 'Release' prior to being called on duty for our
northward trip back home on train 798, Amtrak No. 26, The Pioneer. Arriving by taxi at the depot the crew congregated in the ready room where we obtained and read our train orders.
A few minutes later Bill and I walked down the platform toward where the inbound Pioneer, coming off the Union Pacific from Salt Lake City would soon arrive.
Soon, a headlight told of its arrival. What's this? The lead unit is not the expected single F40 which was normal for 795-798 but instead a UP SD-40 is leading our F-40 today.
After the inbound train stopped the SD-40 was cut off and disappeared out of the depot. Apparently the cab signals in our single unit were defective so
UP had added one of their units to get the train to Portland. Cab signals were not needed beyond Portland so the SD stayed on home rails.
Bill and I approached our unit and I noted that there was a thick coating of crankcase oil completely covering the windshield and nose of our unit. The SD-40
had made mess. Now it was going to be up to me to clean up the mess or at least make the windows clean enough to see out of.

Bill climbed the ladder on my side, opened the door and tossed his grip on the cab floor. I was right behind him. I noticed that the automatic brake valve handle
on the 26-L was in its proper position as a trailing unit, 'Handle Off'. The Independent was also properly positioned in 'Release'. Bill reached to the automatic
handle and quickly slapped it to 'Release', positioned the cut-off valve to "Pass" and moved the independent handle to "Full Applied" But I noticed that Bill
failed to cut-in the independent. A critical oversight.

We were at about 20-25 minutes before departure time of 5:30PM. The depot switcher was adding a coach to the rear and so the carmen had blue-flagged
our engine. I climbed down, found a water hose and busied myself with trying to clean as much of the oil slick as cold water without soap could be expected
to do. Bill turned on both sides wipers to give the water an assist. A few minutes passed as I continued the water treatment. Then I noticed a carman
standing at the engineer's side ladder talking to Bill. Psssst sounds the automatic brake exhaust. The carman starts his walking inspection back along Bills
side of the train. I finish my wash chores, wind up the hose and climb back aboard using my ladder.

In the cab, Bill is missing but I see the door to the nose is ajar and figure that he's doing some 'business' down there. I look at the cutout valve to the independents
and it is still cut-out. Hmm. I'm a little concerned about this but figure that I had better not touch it lest Bill will be upset. After all he's the engineer and I'm
'just along for the ride'. I settle in and start cleaning my nest, starting with the mirror on my side. As I'm looking at the mirror the carman has finished his
inspection and is standing at the first car. He looks directly at me and gives me a signal to release the air. Bill has not returned from the nose. The carman
wants a release. What to do?  Do I risk upsetting Bill by releasing the brakes without  his  permission?  Do I upset the carman by ignoring his sign to release?
I make the decision. I cross to Bills side, move the automatic handle to release and the cut-off valve to "PASS". The carman is happy now and promptly
removes the blue flag.

Bill comes out of the hole and is not happy. He looks at the brake valve handle and asks: "How much leakage did we have? Oooh. I had made a big mistake.
Of course I couldn't have possibly told Bill what the leakage was because I didn't know what the pressure was at the beginning of the checking period.
But Bill knew this and wanted to 'ride' me about it. I immediately confessed. "I don't know, Bill". "How much leakage do you think we could have with a 6 car train?", I offered weakly.
My lame retort was to no avail. "Why, you're no help at all; My girlfriend could do a better job than you can", Bill fumed Now he's standing in the middle of the cab
assuming the posture of one just begging for me to take a swing at him. I wasn't about to have my already ugly face rearranged by this banty-rooster brawler.
I look at my watch. We've plenty of time to make a leakage test before departure time so I suggest: "Bill, we've got ten minutes. If you're really concerned about the leakage,
and we should be, you've got plenty of time to do it now". "I'm not going to make no leakage test now!" he storms. His sputtering continues. A few moments pass. Now its
about 7 minutes to departure. I open my hand and show him five fingers. "Bill, we've got five minutes, you can still make an air test". "The carman isn't here". "You don't need a carman
to check your leakage, besides they have already removed their blue flag". "I'm not going to do it!" "Well that's your choice". With all of the theatrics that Bill has given to his
performance I make the decision that I'm not going to add to the fire by mentioning the independent brake situation.
I reason he'll find out soon enough when he tries to move the train.

At 5:30,  I look in the mirror and its like a ghost town along the platform. No one in sight. Apparently the train crew seeing that no more passengers were expected had
given their 'highball'and then climbed aboard and closed the doors. I didn't see the signal "given the situation". Bill asks: "What do they say?". "Nothing, there's nobody out there".
"Well, we wont go then". "OK , we wont go". A few moments pass and the station supervisor dashes out from the depot and gives a frantic wave. "Bill, there's a big man
in a red coat waving something at us". "Is he part of our crew?". "Not that I know of". "Well, we just won't go". "OK, we won't go".
The big man seeing that his waving is to no avail begins pounding on the side of a coach. Soon a crewman appears and gives another highball. Highball! I relay to Bill.

Bill moves the independent to release but owing to the fact that its is still cut-out there is only the characteristic short whissht sound. Bill doesn't note this and of course, Bill,
the consummate engineer, doesn't look at his gauges either. He opens the throttle and we start moving down the platform.
A little faster now, Bill makes his running air test. Again no looking at the gauges. About the west end of the umbrella sheds at the depot I can begin to hear a slight noise
of the brake shoes starting to hum softly. The crossovers are lined up to take us to the eastward main
and the switchtender smiles slightly as we pass. Bill is starting to sense that all is not right. Now the shoes are starting to give off visible smoke and the smell enters the cab. Bill is looking
at the gauges now. "Hey, did you set a hand brake on this engine?" he asks. "No". Now were passing the yard office at Hoyt Street. "Well, there's sumpthin' wrong with these brakes!".
"Maybe if you cut in the independent we'll go a lot faster", I offer. Without a comment Bill looks down to the cut-out valve he has neglected and reaches to move it to 'Cut-In". A hearty swoooosh
fills the cab as the overheated shoes fall away from the wheels and we're on our way. As we are approaching Kalama, Earl Johnson the DS calls us wanting to know about the 10 minute delay
at Portland. "Oh, just some late baggage", Bill smoothly answers.
Interestingly, the rest of the way home to Seattle, Bill is a real gentleman. No more talk of his girlfriend, no more 'you're no help at all'.
I never did work with Bill again but did see him occasionally at either the roundhouse or at Portland. He was always cordial, a real gentleman. Bill died last November at 97.

Charlie
 
 

Thanks for another fine story!  You're a great writer.

Andy

I really enjoy reading your stories keep em coming

Posted from Android

Great story, well told.  Look forward to your next installment.  

John

Great stuff, Charlie. Keep em coming.
                    Rich
 

Charlie,
Always funny stories.About the same as when I see recruits in basic training.In
both cases funny now,but not then.

Uncle Joe,Seffner,Fl.

W.O.W.?

conductorgrant Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> W.O.W.?

That was my first thought.

TAW

The consummate engineer 😂 I have been lucky(?) to work with a few guys like this. Reminds me to be nice to others.