Railroaders' Nostalgia > Notes from a railroad career...

It has been a while since I posted any tales from my career as a brakeman, baggageman, and conductor with Southern Pacific in Los Angeles during the 1960's. The longer I think of that great era, I recall more stories and occurrences
from those years.
About the first of January, 1963, I went to work on the Indio brakeman's board at my request. Well, what do you know, as soon as I report at Indio, the crew clerk says "You are cut off, son!" He meant that my seniority wouldn't allow me to hold any jobs in Indio, so he gave me a furlough letter, and I was on my way back to college at Arizona State. At the end of May, I returned to LA and "marked up" on the San Joaquin brakeman's board, and started a very busy summer. One of the first jobs I caught was a week on the Arvin Local, which, although it went on duty at Bakersfield, the crew was from the LA board. We spent every night bringing fresh iced reefers from Bakersfield to Arvin, switching all the tree fruit sheds and making a mad dash back to Bakersfield before our work time expired.
The next assignment was a week on the "Vic Tanney" local based at Mojave. I drove my car to Mojave and asked at the depot where I should get a room. I was told to go to Ms. Groom's rooming house a couple blocks away. I was greeted by an elderly woman who might have been my grandmother. She fussed and carried on about which room would be best, finally assigning me to room 6, which was outside in the back. For $9.00 a week, well, it wasn't the Hilton, but it was OK.
This job went on duty about 7am every morning, and hauled a short train of empty cement hoppers up the recently constructed "Creel" branch which runs due West from Mojave yard to a cement plant. The branch features 4% grades - When returning to Mojave with about 15 loads of cement, the rules required the use of retaining valves. The other brakeman and I rode the tops of the cars down the hill. Half way down, we stopped for ten minutes to cool the wheels. From the tops of the cars, you could see Mojave about 1500 feet below us in the valley - quite a sight!
After lunch at Reno's café, across the main highway from the depot, (Railfans knew there was no other place to eat at Mojave in the 60's!) the Vic Tanney job would pick up a few cars in the yard, and head to Monolith, nearly to Tehachapi, the site of another cement plant. From Mojave to Monolith the railroad is double track with Westward trains using the North track, and Eastward train the South track. This cement plant was 50 years old in the 60's. It had been built to provide cement for the construction of the Los Angeles aqueduct in 1905 or so. Now I wondered why the crew on this job was letting me work the "rear" brakeman's position. Usually, the youngest trainman would be the head brakeman and ride the engine, while the "old heads" would ride the caboose and grouse about the new hires that lacked ambition and common sense, but no, this time I work the rear end.
As we approach the cement plant, I see there are two or three long tracks that extend all the way thru the plant from East to West, possible 3/4 of a mile long. In the middle of the plant alongside the three tracks are loading silos I suppose containing cement. All the plant trackage is on a moderate grade East, or towards Mojave. The conductor told me to release all the hand brakes on the cut of cement hoppers in the plant on one of the tracks, perhaps 25 or 30 cars. As we approach the loading silos, the train slows and I drop off and begin releasing the brakes while our train cruises up to the West end of the track and couples into these same cars. 30 times I walk across the catwalk of the hopper, hop down to the brake platform, and fight the hand brake wheel which is stiff and hard to move as it is full of - you knew it! - cement!. Finally, I reach the other end of the cut of cars, and climb down a ladder by the conductor. That was a bit of a workout, but I'm young - I can handle it. "Now son, we're going to reach over there with this cut of cars, pick up the two boxcars, and shove everything back into the track they came from." drawled the conductor. I swung aboard the last of the 30 hoppers as it came by me, rode out to the switch, picked up the two cars, rode back to the switch, and then shoved back toward the conductor.
As I passed him, he looked up and yelled "Tie all the hand brakes when we stop, boy!". Suddenly I knew why they called this job the "Vic Tanney" local - Vic Tanney was a weightlifting guru in the 60's, and this job would put some muscle in your arms!
After switching the West end of the plant, filling it with empties, the job had to switch out the loaded cars from the East end of the plant. Since the plant was on the North side of the main line, this meant that the switching would be done against the current of traffic, that is, the switcher would move East while switching the plant but Westward main line trains would have to be protected. About a miles from the plant silos was a small wooden flagman's shack, perhaps 6 feet on a side, with a window on the South side, and a chair. The flagman of this crew would have to walk the mile or so down the grade to the flagging shack, and then walk another mile East and place torpedoes on the North track, so that a Westbound train would run over the torpedoes and hear them ( how could you miss that expolosion?) and proceed prepared to find a flagman ( me ) about a mile ahead. The crew on the switcher had a series of whistle signals that I would listen for. When they heard the echo of the torpedoes across the valley, the engineer would sound a long, three shorts and a long, or something like that, if it was OK to let the train go. Otherwise I would hold the train until I heard the signal. Each time a train hit the torpedoes, I had to replace them after flagging the train or releasing it. That's a lot of walking down the ballast!
It seemed as though I sat out there for two or three hours every day, just me and my chair, and the ever-present wind Tehachapi is known for. Of course, the wind would stir up a lot of cement dust too. All in all, it wasn't the spot I would have picked had I any choice. I did know, however, why the switcher had its nickname and why they let this greenhorn work the rear man's job.

More later?

TIOGA PASS

Norman Orfall
Helendale, CA
TIOGA PASS, a private railcar



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 01/08/14 23:53 by aronco.

Great recollection of what was then just another day on the job.
JB

As I sit here, I'm amazed at the wealth of tricks and codes used...and the memory of the railroaders who could keep all of that info straight.
Most days as a conductor or brakeman, I couldn't remember if the switch list for the lead job was read from the top down or bottom up!
I'm also glad I'm an engineer! ;) Less of a workout that way!

Memories of nights at Arvin... I went on loan to Bakersfield for a few months when Santa Fe needed brakemen and didn't want to hire as the "reduced crew consist" had just come in. The annual spud rush was underway. (One of the last years I remember big solid block trainloads of orange reefers.) One evening I got a call for the Arvin Local; the midnight heat and humidity was oppressive as we switched in and out of the packing sheds while the moon rode high in the sky. My T-shirt and the bib of my overalls was wet with the sweat of a long night's work. Finally as dawn broke we finished our sashaying and stopped in the clear of the mainline switch at Magunden. As we're waiting to call the DS back for authority to line out an SP local shows up and with an ancient, rail-thin conductor decked out in floppy straw hat, bibs, and blue "thousand-miler" buttoned at the neck and wrists. He comes walking over and his greeting to me was a high-pitched cackle... "Better git covered up son, the ole skin cancer will jist eat you alive!"

Thanks for the story Norm.. keep em coming!

Thanks for more great RR stories, Norm! You should capture them in a book. Also makes me want to hear more, only in the optimal setting: in a comfy armchair on the Tioga Pass while sipping adult beverages!