--- In CBQ@yahoogroups.com, "Dave Lambert" <dave@...> wrote:
>
> Pete,
>
> Well said indeed.
>
> Dave Lambert
>
> _____
>
> From: CBQ@yahoogroups.com [mailto:CBQ@yahoogroups.com] On Behalf Of
> Jpslhedgpeth@...
> Sent: Friday, April 13, 2012 1:09 PM
> To: CBQ@yahoogroups.com
> Subject: [CBQ] Bob's most recent post re "Sandhouse Follies"
>
>
>
>
>
> Since I'm hanging onto all of Bob's recent posts and don't know how to
> delete all the previous ones I'll start a new series
>
> Bob mentions "incidents occur with alarming frequency"
>
> This kind of statement always brings me back to a statement made by P.M.
> Adams, a Canadian Locomotive Engineer in his book "Life on the Head
> End"..one of my all time favorite books and I've used this quote in my own
> book Terminal Tales and other posts. This adage will and has always
> remained true as long as "wheels have turned on steel rails"
>
> Adams opens his chapter titled "Calamity Special" with these words
>
> "One of the more interesting features of railroading is its latent yet
> ever-present capacity for springing the unusual or unexpected on you. You
> jog along for weeks or months in a placid groove and then abruptly the
> routine is shattered and you emerge from the affair with a memorable
> experience"
>
> Which reminds me of another old, but true, statement from a story in the old
> RAILROAD MAGAZINE titled "Traveling Op"
>
> "What we endure with hardship, we remember with delight"
>
> For most of us "old heads" every story we come up with generally will have
> come from a situation which was less than pleasant at the time it occurred,
> yet over the years it gets better and better with the telling...(and with
> perhaps a bit of "embellishment")
>
> Pete
>
Pete, you can probably testify to the fact, that beyond question, railroaders
are the most honest and forthright storytellers in the world! When I hear a
railroader say: "Honest to God, i wouldn't lie about this because....." or "You
know I would never lie if this wasn't a true story" I am in an uncomfortable
position now becuase the only witness as to the veracity of this incident
passed away last March. That person was Bob Richardson, one of the most
knowledgeable and kind gentlemen I have ever had the pleasure to be associated
with. My midnight shift job at the diesel servicing pit allowed me free time to
wander and roam the yard. Since the job allowed a half hour for lunch and two
fifteen minute breaks, I could, if i wanted to, explore many of the old
buildings still standing in the yard. The old roundhouse with just a few stalls
intact was off limits since it was leased to private firm that never seemed to
do anything except utilize a security guard dog outfit that mainly used
doberman pinschers to maintain security over the empty roundhouse. Whenever one
of them escaped and took off, he or it went unerringly for my laborer, which
usually gave me sufficient time to find refuge in a locomotive cab, waycar, or
truck. One night, in the old paint shop I thought I heard an owl up in the
rafters. Curious to see if it had a nest I shone my light upwards trying to
find the darned thing. I did not see the aforementioned owl, but what I did see
looked like a steam engine whistle still hooked up to the building's overhead
air pipes. There was a catwalk close to the whistle so, after returning from
the pit with an adjustable wrench, I climbed the roof access ladder and worked
my way along the creaky wooden catwalk to the whistle. After a prolonged
struggle with the whistle, much of which was one-sided, I got the thing loose.
No way was I going to carry it down as it was large and very heavy. I threw it
over the side onto a pile of rotten wood shelving and pallets. Making my way
back down, remember all of this was in the dark in an atmosphere composed of
pigeon dropping dust, I found the whistle, set it outside and went to get the
truck. Now I may be a little off on this part, but while I was up there I think
I might have faintly heard the curses of many an old C&S old timer still
floating around under the car shop roof, but, maybe it was just the sound of
more pigeons. Anyway, once I examined the whistle, I saw it had a steel band
around the bottom which had the number #902 handstamped on it. The next morning
I checked Hol Wagner's opus "The Colorado Road" and sure enough found a pic of
the #902 with a whistle that looked exactly like the one i had. This was too
good to be true, and the first thought i had was "I want to hear it" I took it
over to the 23rd st roundhouse, and in no time we had it hooked up to the house
air for the big test. Out of deference to its age, we tied down (open) the
valve and slowly bled air into it. Once we were satisfied it worked, we let her
rip. I think that blast brought every bit of dirt and corruption that had been
built up over the years in the old roundhouse (1882). TO BE CONTINUED. BOB
mUNSHOWER
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