Railroaders' Nostalgia > Russian visitors in the high tower

A recent description of an incident involving foreign visitors to American railroads reminded me of a humorous incident that occurred while I was employed at Barstow by Santa Fe.
Sometime in the early 1980's, I was working the afternoon trainmasters' job in the High Tower at Barstow. In addition to monitoring and directing the traffic flow thru the yard, we were expected to field calls from all those who outranked us, inquiring as to the conditions in the yard. We also coordinated the yard operations with three chief train disatchers and the system operations center in Chicago.
On this particular afternoon, a tour group of about 25 Russian railroaders arrived for a tour of Santa Fe's new Barstow yard.. They were on a across the nation trip to showcase our best railroading to them. Also along for the visit were about 8 state department types who seemed very nervous lest anyone say something to provoke an international incident. Santa Fe's Public Relations folks sent a couple of guys along too.
As I had done many times before (Santa Fe was always proud to show off their 55 million dollar hump-yard) I began my talk describing the basic layout of the yard, and how the operation worked. Overhead was a 25 foot long electric display that indicated where the train were, and whether the trains were routed to or thru the yard. A minute or two into my spiel, the phone rang. The car foreman who worked with me in the tower answered it. He told the caller that I couldn't answer the phone just then, as I was giving a "tour" to some important guests. "Oh, it is? he said on the phone..."just a minute Ms. Orfall. He interrupted me saying that the call was my wife and it was an emergency! Of course, I excused my self, and answered the phone.
The interpreters accompanying the Russians had been translating my descriptions, and now, they explained to everyone there what had happened.
My wife told me she left her teaching job early because she was not feeling well. When she arrived home about 230pm, she discovered my 17 year old son was also home, and not alone. She walked down the hallway and interrupted a passionate session between my son and his girlfriend. Needless to say, in my wife's mind, this was a real emergency! As she described what happened, I reacted as you might have expected, grinning but quietly thinking "That's my boy!".
The interpreters did a fine job of filling in the moments there, and the Russians were amused, even laughing as they guessed what the phone call was about. Perhaps my grin gave something away? The State Department people seemed convinced that surely the Russians would take offense at something and war was imminent. The Santa Fe PR folks stood in the back of the crowd rolling their eyes skyward.
I cut off the phone call as quickly as I could, and returned to the description of the yard functions. After concluding my talk and fielding a few questions, every Russian came forward to thank me, giving a fierce bear hug, a kiss on each cheek, and pinning a medal on my shirt. I know I was at least a member of the workers railway brigades, if not anything else. The last Russian was obviously the leader of the group. He gave the requisite bear hug, pinned a medal on me, and then, in perfect english, he said "That's a fine son you've get there!"
Who says railroader all over the globe don't have much in common?




ARONCO

Norman Orfall
Helendale, CA
TIOGA PASS, a private railcar



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 09/29/17 23:21 by aronco.

Great story, Norm!

I've got a pre-teen daughter. That story of yours, while good, will probably keep me awake for a few nights!

While on the subject of the Russians visiting Barstow, here's another discussion thread from awhile back that touched on it:

https://www.trainorders.com/discussion/read.php?18,2940487,2940487#msg-2940487

Good one Norm. I hope I'm half as cool with my boys when they are teens as you were with yours.

Norm, I think this is your best story ever. Exactly what is needed at this moment in time.

Thank you.