Flanary-MP292-Rain-CrabCreek-MeadowsGolfClub-Pelton
Summer of ‘57
I’m comfortably ensconced in a deluxe seat in Southern stainless steel streamlined coach 903, “Pulaski.” It’s July 5, 1957, and my father, mother and sister are en route to Philadelphia, where my uncle and aunt will meet us for a month-long vacation in the City of Brotherly Love. Not quite ten years old, this summer will be incredibly special. I press my nose against the glass to see where we might be, not knowing this trip will introduce me to the hoagie sandwich; the Valley Forge battlefield; Atlantic City; the incredible wonders of Manhattan; B&O blue and gray F-units with brass Capitol dome logos on their noses, RDC cars and the passenger trains of the Royal Blue Line; Baldwin 4-10-2 three cylinder compound demonstrator No. 60000 at the Franklin Institute, and the adrenalin rush of watching Pennsy GG1s run full out by the suburban passenger shelter at Folcroft, Pennsylvania. We’ll be carried home on train 41, the “Pelican,” and arrive behind N&W class J 604. And as long as I have memory, I’ll relish standing under the umbrella shed at Bristol after we arrive that morning, listening to her cross compound air pumps, smelling the aroma of steam and valve oil, and taking in the enormity of the finest steam passenger locomotive ever built---anywhere. What a summer this will be!
But now, we’re stopped at some unknown rural location. I see no community, and no depot. The friendly conductor tells me this is Vicker, Virginia, and as it is with all Bristol-Monroe through passenger trains, the engine is taking coal to get us to Monroe, VA, where Southern E-units will take over for the last leg to Washington. This is train 46, the Memphis-New York “Tennessean,” one of six (three each way) daily inter-road Southern Railway passenger trains handled by the N&W between Bristol, VA and Monroe, just north of Lynchburg.
The brakes release, and imperceptibly we get underway again. Even nine cars back you can hear the bark of the big class J up front---611. Slowly the sun of the day is gone and the evening turns overcast---then dark---and then the Heavens open up and the rain falls—in buckets. The 611 isn’t fazed. Her veteran Radford Division engineer clamps down tighter on his Harvester-brand cigar, widens on her and pulls the reverser back toward center just a bit. As we twist and turn on the 1.3 percent grade toward Christiansburg, we pick up speed---quickly. Hanging on the 611’s head pin are three old Pennsy express boxes, two baggage cars of storage mail, the RPO, a baggage-dorm/coach, four coaches, a Southern diner, and the Memphis-New York 14 roomette, 4 double bedroom Pullman.
The rain intensifies as the J’s booming baritone Hancock chime whistle clears the grade crossing below the golf course below Christiansburg. You can hear the sharp crack of the engine’s exhaust echo off the hills and hollows through the coach window. I can only imagine what it’s like to be there in the cab at this moment. We’re still 15 minutes late owing to a 45-minute late arrival off the Southern at Bristol, but this marvelous 5200 horsepower marvel of Virginia ingenuity and craftsmanship has shaved 30 minutes en route---and the engine crew apparently still believes it can get to Roanoke on time. Don’t bet against ‘em.
In five more months, the Js will be replaced on the Bristol trains by Southern diesels running through. And a few months after that, leased RF&P and ACL E-units--available during the summer lull in the East Coast passenger trade to Florida--will replace the Js on the Cincinnati-Norfolk trains. Things are changing quickly, and this will never be happen again in my lifetime. Or…will it?
Ron Flanary
NOTE: The image was taken on July 5, 2015, with some details altered using Photoshop to come closer to the look and feel of July 5, 1957. The story is all true, except for some minor details I can’t recall (the number of the coach we were riding, and the actual number of the J on eastbound number 46 that day).
Flanary-MP292-Rain-CrabCreek-MeadowsGolfClub-Pelton
Summer of ‘57
I’m comfortably ensconced in a deluxe seat in Southern stainless steel streamlined coach 903, “Pulaski.” It’s July 5, 1957, and my father, mother and sister are en route to Philadelphia, where my uncle and aunt will meet us for a month-long vacation in the City of Brotherly Love. Not quite ten years old, this summer will be incredibly special. I press my nose against the glass to see where we might be, not knowing this trip will introduce me to the hoagie sandwich; the Valley Forge battlefield; Atlantic City; the incredible wonders of Manhattan; B&O blue and gray F-units with brass Capitol dome logos on their noses, RDC cars and the passenger trains of the Royal Blue Line; Baldwin 4-10-2 three cylinder compound demonstrator No. 60000 at the Franklin Institute, and the adrenalin rush of watching Pennsy GG1s run full out by the suburban passenger shelter at Folcroft, Pennsylvania. We’ll be carried home on train 41, the “Pelican,” and arrive behind N&W class J 604. And as long as I have memory, I’ll relish standing under the umbrella shed at Bristol after we arrive that morning, listening to her cross compound air pumps, smelling the aroma of steam and valve oil, and taking in the enormity of the finest steam passenger locomotive ever built---anywhere. What a summer this will be!
But now, we’re stopped at some unknown rural location. I see no community, and no depot. The friendly conductor tells me this is Vicker, Virginia, and as it is with all Bristol-Monroe through passenger trains, the engine is taking coal to get us to Monroe, VA, where Southern E-units will take over for the last leg to Washington. This is train 46, the Memphis-New York “Tennessean,” one of six (three each way) daily inter-road Southern Railway passenger trains handled by the N&W between Bristol, VA and Monroe, just north of Lynchburg.
The brakes release, and imperceptibly we get underway again. Even nine cars back you can hear the bark of the big class J up front---611. Slowly the sun of the day is gone and the evening turns overcast---then dark---and then the Heavens open up and the rain falls—in buckets. The 611 isn’t fazed. Her veteran Radford Division engineer clamps down tighter on his Harvester-brand cigar, widens on her and pulls the reverser back toward center just a bit. As we twist and turn on the 1.3 percent grade toward Christiansburg, we pick up speed---quickly. Hanging on the 611’s head pin are three old Pennsy express boxes, two baggage cars of storage mail, the RPO, a baggage-dorm/coach, four coaches, a Southern diner, and the Memphis-New York 14 roomette, 4 double bedroom Pullman.
The rain intensifies as the J’s booming baritone Hancock chime whistle clears the grade crossing below the golf course below Christiansburg. You can hear the sharp crack of the engine’s exhaust echo off the hills and hollows through the coach window. I can only imagine what it’s like to be there in the cab at this moment. We’re still 15 minutes late owing to a 45-minute late arrival off the Southern at Bristol, but this marvelous 5200 horsepower marvel of Virginia ingenuity and craftsmanship has shaved 30 minutes en route---and the engine crew apparently still believes it can get to Roanoke on time. Don’t bet against ‘em.
In five more months, the Js will be replaced on the Bristol trains by Southern diesels running through. And a few months after that, leased RF&P and ACL E-units--available during the summer lull in the East Coast passenger trade to Florida--will replace the Js on the Cincinnati-Norfolk trains. Things are changing quickly, and this will never be happen again in my lifetime. Or…will it?
Ron Flanary
NOTE: The image was taken on July 5, 2015, with some details altered using Photoshop to come closer to the look and feel of July 5, 1957. The story is all true, except for some minor details I can’t recall (the number of the coach we were riding, and the actual number of the J on eastbound number 46 that day).