Steam passenger operations on N&W Rwy's Radford division circa 1958

[Anonymous]

Are there any old Norfolk and Western employees out there?

I am writing a short story and need some information about the operation of the passenger trains the Norfolk and Western use to operate in conjunction with the Southern Railway. These are the trains that operated on the Southern Railway between Washington and Lynchburg VA, on the Norfolk and Western Railway between Lynchburg and Bristol VA, and then again on the Southern Railway to points west.

During the late ‘50s, during the last days of steam:
Where did crews change on that stretch of railroad?
Did the locomotives and crews run through from Lynchburg to Bristol, or was there a change of either or both in Roanoke?
Where were the crews based?

On the 600 "J" class locomotives:
How many seats were in the cab?
Did the head brakeman ride in the cab or back in the train?
And finally, what kind of rules had to be broken, or what kind of permission needed to be granted, for a family member to ride with an engineer?

Any information along these lines would be appreciated, best wishes, Steve

[daveklepper]

I will be interested in this too. One bit of information I can furnish, possibly that you know already. The first use of road diesel power on the N&W was during the John L. Lewis 1948 coal strike when Southern diesels ran through Lynchberg to Bristol.

[BigJim]

Steve,
You may want to go to;
www.nwhs.org
Join their mailing list and ask your question. I have some feelers out, but I'll tell you what little that I know now and that might not be quite right.
Keep in mind that union rules may have changed many times through the years.
Conductors and trainmen would run through from Lynchburg to Bristol. Engineers stayed on their respective districts.
For each train there would be one Norfolk Div. crew and one Radford Div. crew.
The men would be based in Roanoke so they would either drive their car or ride another train to Lynchburg to protect the job. Run to Bristol, layover and come back the next day to Lynchburg.
Engineers would change in Roanoke.
Passenger crews rode in the cars.

As far as I know, no N&W steam had more than two seats in the cab. If you have ever seen the inside of the 1218 you would see why. There is just no room in there for another seat. The head brakeman on a freight could ride in the "Doghouse" or stand up in the cab or if the train was very short he could ride the caboose.

If I find out anything more I will post it here.

[feltonhill]

During excursion days 611 had a third seat behind the fireman, but that may not have been there when the J's were in regular service.

[Anonymous]

Thank you all for all input.

For anyone interested in this subject I would recommend the book: Steam Steel and Stars, which contains photographs by O. Winston Link and text by Tim Hensley. This book has it that regular steam operations on the Bristol line ended on 31 December 1957. Whether this was all steam operations or just those on trains operated to and from the Southern Railway, I don’t know.

Daveklepper’s comments on the first diesels to operate on the Norfolk and Western were interesting. I remember seeing a photo in Trains magazine of Norfolk and Western trains with some Atlantic Coast line locomotives on them. This was a similar situation, as coal strikes were common in the ‘50s, as John L. Lewis and the United Mine Workers union was quite active at this time, trying to elevate coal miners above the status of serfdom.

How does one post scans in this forum? I have a couple that might be of interest.

When I write my short story it will probably be posted in this thread.
Best wishes, Steve

[daveklepper]

Look forward to reading it!

[BigJim]

FYI,
Roanoke to Hagerstown passenger crews went through to Hagerstown while the engineers changed in Shenandoah.

[Anonymous]

And - there´s another book dealing with N&W and the work of O.Winston Link, and not only his night shots: "The Last Steam Railroad In America, Harry N. Abrams, Inc, Publishers, 1995, which covers the whole range of Link´s work on the N&W, complete with color photography and a good deal of text as well. Impressive pictures and very informative, though I´m not sure if it´s still available - maybe Ebay or amazon is worth a try!

Best regards to you US railfans

Tom

[Anonymous]

Both "Steam Steel and Stars" and "The Last Steam Railroad In America" are available from the O Winston Link Museum.

[Anonymous]

A couple of questions for anyone who might know:
Did the Bristol line have position light signals?
Did N&W passenger train crews use hand signals or did they have train communication signals in the late 1950s?

[sr6498]

Yes, the Bristol line had position light signals, and yes the N&W passenger equipment was equipped with train communication lines.

[Anonymous]

As promised, here is the story. Please keep in mind that even though the setting is real and the story is based on a real incident, most of the events are fictional. H. O. Richardson and Danny McMurphy are products of my imagination. I have no idea who was on the Eastbound Birmingham Special or what they were doing the morning of Dec. 23rd 1957.

Constructive criticism, especially regarding factual errors, is welcome. Please respect the fact that this work is copyrighted. Best wishes, Steven C. Merriam

Portrait Of a Lady

You are tired as you report for work at the Bristol, Virginia, roundhouse, just like hundreds, maybe thousands of times before. You find things the same as you have always found them, a few locomotives simmering quietly on the ready track, the sound of hammering coming from the blacksmith shop, the hiss of escaping steam and, as always, the pervasive smell of coal smoke and grease. It is dark, a moonless December night. Steel wheels clank over the rail gap as a hostler backs a K1 (Note 1) onto the turntable and you think about just how much your job is going to change. After next week work will be cleaner and easier, but also more boring; however, tonight you will, although you don’t realize it at the time, once again, feel the thrill of having a fine lady respond to your touch.

You sign the book in the roundhouse, on duty at 1:29 AM, Dec. 23rd 1957, and talk a spell with a young machinist. He is glum, talking about how the diesels are coming and how he wonders if he will be able to keep his job. Diesels won’t need as much maintenance as steam locomotives and much of the work they will need will be done by electricians, not machinists.

This is old news, most railroads have replaced their steam locomotives with diesels years ago, the Norfolk and Western is a hold out, mainly because of the vast amounts of coal the road hauls. “The Company” figured that they should be a good customer to the coal industry, as well as a provider of transportation. But anyway things are coming to an end, you talked to the Assistant Road Foreman of Engines yesterday and he said steam operations would be done on the Radford division by the end of the year.

You go to your locker and put your hickory-striped coveralls, denim coat, Kromer cap and gauntleted gloves on and then trudge on out into the winter cold, carrying your grip and electric lantern over to the ready track, where you start inspecting your locomotive for this morning’s No. 18, The Birmingham Special, passenger train from Birmingham, Chattanooga and Knoxville to Roanoke, Lynchburg and Washington D.C.. Locomotive 602 is a good one, a good steamer. Standing on cinders and gravel, you look things over, checking the wheels, the side-rods, valve gear, castings and all the other things that constitute a locomotive’s “running gear” and you “oil around,” making sure that everything has good lubrication so that things are right for the morning’s trip.

Your young fireman, Danny McMurphy, finally shuffles out and starts going about his business. He usually does an adequate job, but, from the way he is walking, it looks like he was too late at the tavern last evening. He is the third generation of McMurphys on the railroad and, unfortunately, granddaddy was the best of the bunch.

When you finish your on the ground inspection, you hand your grip up to Danny, who is already in a cab, and climb the ladder. You inspect and wipe things down and settle in on the right side. At 2:13 the switchman shows up and you ease the engine out onto the mainline, then back it down through the dark to a point east of the platform lights of the passenger station. Sitting in darkness, you wait. By and by the Southern Railway’s green, white and gold diesels bring No. 18 into the station, the intense light of their headlight illuminating every detail of your tender and locomotive in stark relief. They are two minutes early at 2:33, not bad considering the extra cars which have been added for extra holiday business. The diesels uncouple from the train, pull towards you and then dim their lights and back away, crossing over to the adjacent track and head for the Southern’s roundhouse. As soon as the switchmen realigns the switch you back up to the train and couple up. Baggage, mail and express are already being handled and as soon as you set the locomotive brakes and release the train brakes the car inspectors put up their blue flag (Note 2) and start to inspect the train.

Conductor H. O. Richardson walks down the dimly lighted brick platform, his conductor hat only adding to his already considerable height, and you climb down from the cab to meet him. He walks ramrod-straight even though he is getting on in years. He was already a conductor when you were first hired over 30 years ago. You compare watches and he hands you your copies of the train orders. The two of you exchange few words and as he walks back to the cars, you climb back up into the cab. You read your orders by electric lantern, nothing unusual, and you wait. By and by you notice that the baggage handlers have finished their job and the car inspectors are coming back to retrieve their blue flag. Departure time is approaching, time for a quick prayer for a safe trip and to listen for the conductor’s signal.

At 2:45 AM, the scheduled departure time, you hear the two short peeps of the train communication whistle, the signal to proceed. You answer with two short tugs on the whistle cord, then you open the throttle a little bit to stretch out the slack between the train cars and release the train brakes and you ease forward. You turn the headlight switch from dim to bright and then slowly open the throttle and hear the periodic “chuff” of the used steam and smoke as it comes out of the cylinders and rushes up the stack. The tempo of the exhaust starts out slow and then increases as the train rumbles through the switches of the station trackage and past the roundhouse and off into the Virginia night. The sound of metal banging on metal, the sound of the exhaust and the rumble of various appliances all increase with the speed of the train.

Locomotive 602 is one of the J series. The “Js” were designed and built to haul passenger trains and were said to be among the best and most modern steam locomotives ever built. Certainly a handsome design, they were burly and sleek at the same time, “streamlined,” with most of the pipes and other hardware covered over with sheet metal. They were black with a maroon stripe down the side and the company kept them clean. Like all fine ladies, they required frequent attention.

All, however, is not well, Danny McMurphy sits on the left side staring stupidly ahead while the steam pressure edges downward. It is the fireman’s job to make the steam and you wonder what the problem is. You yell across the cab “are you OK.”

Uh, Yea, Okay... maybe I have a little bit of the flu.” He yells back.

"Sure, probably brown bottle flu," you think and turn your attention back to the track ahead, while saying nothing.

"Railroading is a dog’s life," You think, " you spend most of your time away from home and it seems that you are always working when other people are sleeping and trying to sleep when other people are working."

The line from Bristol to Roanoke is up and down and full of curves. No. 18's run is easy, even with an extra long train, with only two scheduled stops, and you settle into the usual routine as you accelerate on the straight stretches and on the upgrades, while easing back and applying the brakes on curves and downgrades. Steam pressure increases as Danny lets the fire burn too long before adding more coal and getting “too thin” and then drops as he turns on the stoker (Note 3) and dumps too much coal on top of the remaining fire, almost smothering it. Then after a while the new coal starts burning and the process repeats itself. This is poor firing practice but it allows the fireman extra “sit down time.”

Even though you are next to a warm boiler head, it is cold and you catch yourself thinking that maybe an enclosed diesel cab would not be too bad after all. You got a little bit of training on diesels a few years ago when John L. Lewis took his United Mine Workers out on strike and coal became scarce. The Southern Railways’ diesels ran “through” over the Norfolk and Western until that one was settled. You remember how different it was to run a diesel but how quickly it became routine, like running a streetcar, not that you had ever run a streetcar but what you would expect if you were to run one. No challenge.

At any rate you and your train shuffle along and manage to stay pretty much on schedule, passing places with names like Meadow View, Glade Spring and Seven-Mile Ford. Things are going okay until you get to the long upgrade to Rural Retreat, the highest point en route. The fire gets really thin as you pass Groseclose and then starts to burn out, but you manage to top-the-grade and drift on down the other side. Danny, characteristically and once again, dumps too much coal on the fire. Steam pressure drops way down and you wonder if you are going to have to spend part of the morning on the carpet of the superintendent’s office, explaining why you delayed your train and plugged up his division by letting your locomotive’s fire go out.

You shut off the steam going back to heat the train, they should be all right for a while, and use a minimum amount of throttle on the downgrade. It takes a while, but Danny has the “Luck of the Irish” and finally the fire starts to catch on and build around the time you pass through Max Meadows. Of course a smothered fire that is just catching on puts out black smoke, a lot of black smoke. You can’t see it because of the dark but you can smell it and almost hear the difference in the sound of the exhaust coming from the stack.

Just east of Max Meadows, you come up to a signal. As expected you have a clear signal, three yellow lights vertically, but as you get up close to it, it changes to a diagonal pattern, indicating “approach,” as in “Proceed preparing to stop at next signal. If exceeding medium speed immediately take action to reduce to that speed.” Something up ahead? No way of knowing but you growl and apply the brakes. After a bit you come onto the next signal and it shows three lights horizontally, the stop indication! You apply the brakes again and the train groans to a stop.


The rules say that once you’ve stopped, you can proceed at restricted speed but you have run with H. O. Richardson many times and you know he’s going to want to know what is going on. Sure enough, as soon as you start rolling again, two peeps on the train communication line, signal you to stop at once, so you stop the train so that the first coach is right next to the signal post where the company has a lineside telephone so the conductor can talk to the dispatcher. “H. O.,” is nice enough but a bit grumpy when his train is delayed.
You sit and wait. After a spell, you see Conductor Richardson walking up to your locomotive. He is uncharacteristically out of sorts.

“You need to back it up -- back it up until your engine is about one mile west of Max Meadows. There is a New York photographer there, taking a picture of your train or at least trying to take a picture of your train, but your locomotive was making too much smoke and so he didn’t take the picture. I can’t hardly believe it but this guy has been given permission by the company to take pictures... his picture taking has been approved all the way up to Race Horse (Note 4) himself!”

“What?” You exclaim in disbelief.

“You need to back it up...” he starts again.

“I heard you I just don’t believe it” you cut him off and explain.

“Neither do I. Just do it and don’t give me any sass. And tell your fire-boy to fix his fire! Give me a few minutes to get back to the train and I’ll give you the signal and then you can make your back-up move. ”

You do and he does and before too long you are backing up through Max Meadows. There you catch a glimpse of the photographer (Note 5), his assistant and his equipment.

As you back past them, you think of the first time you were promoted to engineer. You were so proud then and it meant so much to you! It was a thrill to operate locomotives, even in freight service or on branch lines, even just dragging strings of coal hoppers out of the hills. When you were promoted the increase in pay was substantial, and not only that, you had a little bit of status, you were no longer just “the fire-boy,” you were referred to by name, and had enough money to get married. You hired a photographer and he photographed you in your “Sunday best” next to one of the first locomotives you took out as an engineer. Now for the first time it really hits you that No. 602, and her sisters, will not be around much longer and your days of operating steam locomotives are coming to and end.

As you back away from Max Meadows you hear grumbling from the left side.

“From New York, huh.” Danny mumbles, “Who does that guy think he is anyway?”

You turn on Danny and look at him for long time. You have kept your frustration in too long and decide it is time to let him know about it. “Who does he think he is?... Who do you think you are? It is your fault, and not anyone else’s that this locomotive was making black smoke. You should know better, your granddaddy took great pride in running right and never wasting an ounce of coal.... Now get this fire right and keep it right and I don’t want to hear any more. We have some time to make up and we are going to run this locomotive as it was supposed to be run!”

He says nothing, which proves he isn’t stupid, and gets to work. You stop the train and give Danny about three minutes to get things right, then you turn to him and ask “ready?” He nods and you get down to business.

You adjust the Johnson bar (note 6), release the brakes and open the throttle. As soon as the wheels start to turn you open the sanding lever in order to get some sand down between the rail and the driving wheels, to help the wheels grip the rail. Your years of experience let you know, let you feel, what is going on between the rail and the wheel, you continually adjust the throttle so that you get the maximum amount of acceleration, without slippage. You feel the power pulses coming up from the locomotive and you feel some of the old thrill return as you accelerate No. 18 to track speed. Just west of Max Meadows you adjust the Johnson bar and ease off on the throttle, no black smoke this time. As you roll past the whitewashed wooden station, more flashbulbs than you have ever seen before go off, flashing the night white for an instant. Now it’s time to roll!

You open the throttle again and the engine surges forward again, like a race horse. This doesn’t last long because there is a curve up ahead. You shut the throttle and apply the brakes, feeling the brake shoes grip the wheels and check the speed of the train. Now instead of shutting the throttle well in advance of the curve and letting her slowdown and roll through the curve, you wait until the last possible moment before shutting off the throttle. Now the game is to wait until the last possible second before closing the throttle and putting on the brakes so that the speed drops to the highest possible safe speed at the exact second that the locomotive starts leaning into the curve. This goes on – and on. The whole division is mostly curves with upgrades and downgrades. You work the engine, The Lady, for maximum power on the upgrade and let her roll as fast as is “consistent with safety,” on the downgrades. You roll around a long curve and turn back to look over the train. All seems to be as it should be, six baggage and express cars, six coaches and two Pullmans. Most of the lights are out, nobody in the back, except maybe Conductor Richardson, and the brakemen are aware of the new sense of urgency.

"Railroading is a good life." You think, "You are out and around and see and feel things that the normal person is unaware of."

As you pass Pulaski, you note that you are 28 minutes behind schedule and think how great it would be to make up that time so that this fine machine that you are running would roll into Roanoke “on time” on one of her final trips. You’re on an upgrade now and so you run hard. You’re using a considerable amount of steam but Danny is keeping up with things now. At Dublin you start on a long downgrade and the game changes. You open up the valve for train heat and keep the throttle mostly closed, concentrating on keeping your speed under control. This is a game in itself, as on a downgrade it is easy to go too fast. Years of experience remind you that gravity is your worst enemy on the downgrade and you have to pay attention every second. Still, you make sure that you only use the brake now and then and you let her run.

You slowdown in a little to cross the New River but still roll into Radford quickly, a little too quickly. You break for your stop as usual but end up about 50 feet past your usual stopping point. It is 5:34 AM and you are now only 25 minutes late but it takes a little bit of extra time to re-adjust the baggage carts on the platform and unload some of the extra mail and express which comes with the Christmas season so you leave Radford 26 minutes down. You roll on down around the bend in the river to the junction with the mainline. You take it easy because you know that if the signal indicates stop it means another train is in the way. It’s all clear, so you roll around the wye onto the mainline and head up the hill.

Once again, you “twist her tail a little” and she moves, rolling up the mountain, you don’t have to worry about gravity now, you’re working against it but if things start to come unraveled, gravity is a help. There must have been a slick spot on the rails because your wheels start to slip. You curse and slam the throttle shut, then open it again, almost where it was before. This time the wheels hold and you keep the throttle right where it is and mainly use the Johnson bar to bring down the speed on the curves. Danny is keeping a close eye on the fire now and the three of you are doing well and have managed to gain another two minutes.

You make a real textbook stop at Christiansburg, and the men behind take care of things quickly, they too want to get home soon. When you blow the whistle before pulling out of Christiansburg, you hear it echo off the hills and you think that in some ways a steam whistle makes the greatest sound in the world. The flat blatt of the diesel air horn does not compare. Unfortunately, you cannot make up any time coming down Christiansburg Mountain. You ease the train on down the grade and make a safe descent to Elliston. From there, you let her roll along, she knows she is on the homestretch and she knows what to do.

When you pass Salem, you note that even though you have made up another three minutes, you’re still 21 minutes late and there is nothing that can be done about it. You knew, when you left Max Meadows, that it would be impossible for you to make up for a half-hour delay. Still, you’re satisfied with the results. You will probably pick up another minute or two because of schedule padding into Roanoke but no one can fault you or your locomotives’ running east of Max Meadows.

The dark of the night is giving way to a gray morning as you pass the Shaffer’s Crossing roundhouse complex, where locomotives are maintained and light repairs made, and the back shops where, until just a few years ago, the company built their own locomotives. You also pass the “dead-line” where steam locomotives sit, cold and unused, replaced by the new diesels, a sobering reminder of the times to come. Still, you’re happy about what you and The Lady accomplished in the past 71 miles, it was a good run and it took you back a few years to when you were younger and life was more thrilling.

It is 6:32 AM as the two of you roll slowly up to the Roanoke passenger station platforms, you know that you and the Lady are looking good. On an adjacent track sits a dining car, to be switched into your train as soon as you come to a stop. A fat Negro cook dressed in white, with a white hat and apron stands in the narrow kitchen door on the side watching you, catching a little bit of rest and some cool air before the morning’s onslaught of orders for sugar cured ham, eggs and corn muffins. You smile and wave.

Note 1: A K1 was medium sized locomotive, wythe classification number 4-8-2, built in 1916 in the Norfolk and Western’s back-shop in Roanoke.

Note 2: A blue flag is for safety, it indicates that someone is working on the train and means the train cannot be moved for any reason. A blue flag cannot be removed by anyone except the person who put it up.

Note 3: A stoker is a mechanical device which moves coal from the tender into the firebox using an auger, as well as other devices.

Note 4: “Race Horse” was R. H. Smith III, President of the Norfolk and Western Railway from 1946 to 1958. He was nicknamed Race Horse because of his initials and his long legs.

Note 5: O. Winston Link was an industrial photographer who took numerous photographs of the last steam locomotives in operation on the Norfolk and Western Railway.

Note 6: The Johnson bar is the common name for the lever controlling the steam locomotive’s valve gear. The valve gear controls the length of the stroke of the piston that steam is admitted to the cylinder. For starting, steam is allowed to flow into the cylinder for almost the complete length of the piston stroke, providing maximum starting effort. For sustained running steam is only allowed to enter the cylinder at the beginning of the stroke. The Johnson bar is also used to reverse the direction of operation.

[BigJim]

I got as far as the "602...J1" part. The 602 was a J, not a J1. It was part of the first order, 600 - 604. The unstreamlined war babys 605 - 610 were at first classed as J1's but after their streamlining they were reclassed as simply J.

[Anonymous]

QUOTE: Originally posted by BigJim

I got as far as the "602...J1" part. The 602 was a J, not a J1. It was part of the first order, 600 - 604. The unstreamlined war babys 605 - 610 were at first classed as J1's but after their streamlining they were reclassed as simply J.

That is good information, The text has been changed.
Best wishes, SM

[feltonhill]

I believe that power or stretch braking would be used instead of shutting off the throttle and applying the brakes for each curve. Train handling would get a little rough the way you've currently described it. Comments from the "real" engineers on this thread??

[Anonymous]

Thank you, I will change things a bit on the rewrite.

[daveklepper]

I really enjoyed reading the story. Thanks for letting us share it.

You could be more "plitically correct" by changing "fat negro cook" to
"stout negro cook." Not that there is any good reason to make this change, but there are always people who will find excuses to accuse people of bigotry even when it is only in their imagination.

It has been at least 15 years since I last rode behind a steam engine and I still can imagine the experience in my mind. Again, thanks!

[BigJim]

One other sticking point that I thought of after reading the rest of the story is about the signals.
The "Stop and Proceed" signal refered to in the story would have to be an "intermediate" signal. It has been my experience over the past thirty odd years that "intermediate" signals are not under the direct control of the dispatcher.
Only "Home" signals, read those able to display a "Stop and Stay", are directly controlled by the dispatcher. That said, the dispatcher could not knock an intermediate signal down to stop a train.
In CTC territory the "intermediate" signals would be governed by the "Home" signals and which direction the dispatcher sets up the current of traffic.
So the story should read "Stop and Stay".
Also phone boxes were only placed at "Home" signals and a few other places where a phone would be needed, but not at every "intermediate" signal.
Nowadays the "Stop and Stay" signals are "Stop" signals and the "Stop and Proceed" signals are "Restricting" signals and only requires that the train pass the signal at restricted speed without stopping.

[feltonhill]

R. H. Smith did not have a III behind his name. He did have a son, R. H. Smith, Jr. If there was a III, it would be Smith's grandson. Don't know the family history that recently.

[Anonymous]

Gentleman,
Thank you for the additional information.

The information on signals was especially valuable. I will end up making that signal a “home” or restrictive signal as I do my final rewrite. I never was really comfortable about the engineer “just deciding” that the conductor might want to talk to the dispatcher.

As far R. H. Smith having a III after his name or not, I am a little bit confused. In the book Steam Steel and Stars it is said that he did, feltonhill says differently and he might be right. It would certainly not be the first time that a book author passed on some bad information.
At any rate, I might just drop the “III” as it is not critical to the story.

The irony of the situation is that I am writing this for a college class and I am reasonably sure that nobody in the class would be able to tell the difference between a home signal and a traffic light. Still, I try to get things right when I write.

Best wishes, Steve

[feltonhill]

I've seen the listing R.H. Smith with a III in SS&S, but I think you'll find that's incorrect. I've never seen a number associated with his name anywhere else, including newspaper articles, N&W Magazine. Family information I have indicates his son was R. H. Jr. I'll try to check with his granddaughter next day or two. She may know.

[daveklepper]

I admire your effort at getting things exactly right. It is a good story, and technical accuracy adds to its value.

[feltonhill]

Steve,

I'm probably too late with this detail, but I did manage to get the story of R. H. Smith about 10 minutes ago. He was not referred to as III. His son was, in fact, R. H. Smith Jr. However, the name Robert Hall Smith was used by several of R. H. Smith's ancestors. It's just that the family did not use a number designation. So you would be correct by dropping the III designation. Don't know why the book used it.

[Anonymous]

No, you are not too late, I will be doing revision and final editing work off and on though Monday Feb 20th.

[Texas Zepher]

I don't know N&W practice, nor if it is too picky a detail for your story, but I think backing a locomotive onto a train in a station usually would have required the bell to be ringing. Nor do I know if the N&W had steam powered bells or just a pull cord.....

Just curious, any particular reason it is written in second person?

[Anonymous]

The bell is a good detail, I might put it in.
I chose to write the story in second person because I had never done that before and I thought that it would be a good experience. Most new writers go for first person and sometimes Third but seldom second. It was a worthwhile excercise.

[feltonhill]

Steve,

I hope you'll post the final version here. I'm sure many of us would like to read it!!

[Anonymous]

I plan on posting the final version on Monday February 20th.

[Anonymous]

Portrait of a Lady: A short fiction story based on a real event.

As promised, here is the final rewrite.

Please keep in mind that even though the setting is real and the story is based on a real incident, most of the events are fictional. H. O. Richardson and Danny McMurphy are products of my imagination. I have no idea who was on the Eastbound Birmingham Special or what they were doing the morning of Dec. 23rd 1957.

Portrait of a Lady

You are tired as you report for work at the Bristol, Virginia, roundhouse, just like hundreds, maybe thousands of times before. Things are the same as always, a few locomotives simmering quietly on the ready track, the sound of hammering coming from the blacksmith shop, the hiss of escaping steam and, as always, the all-pervasive smell of coal smoke and grease. It is a moonless December night. Steel wheels clank over the rail gaps as a hostler backs a K1 (Note 1) onto the turntable and you think about just how much things are going to change. After next week things will be cleaner and easier, but also more boring; however, tonight you will, although you don’t anticipate it, once again, feel the thrill of having a fine lady respond to your touch.

You sign the book in the roundhouse, on duty at 1:29 AM, Dec. 23rd 1957, and talk a spell with a young machinist. He is glum, talking about how the diesels are coming and how he wonders if he will be able to keep his job. Diesels won’t need as much maintenance as steamers and much of the work will be done by electricians, not machinists. This is old news. Most railroads replaced their steam locomotives with diesels years ago, the Norfolk and Western is a hold out, mainly because of the vast amounts of coal the road hauls. “The Company” figured that they should be a good customer, as well as a provider of transportation, to the coal industry. But the use of steam locomotives is ending. You talked to the Assistant Road Foreman of Engines yesterday and he said that steam operations would be finished on the Radford division by the end of the year.

At your locker you put on your hickory-striped coveralls, denim coat, Kromer cap and gauntleted gloves, then trudge on out into the winter cold, carrying your grip and electric lantern over to the ready track, where you start inspecting your locomotive for this morning’s No. 18, The Birmingham Special, passenger train from Birmingham, Chattanooga and Knoxville to Roanoke, Lynchburg and Washington D.C.. Locomotive 602 is a good one, a good steamer. Standing on cinders and gravel, you look things over, shining your lantern into dark places, checking the wheels, the side-rods, valve gear, castings and all the other things that constitute a locomotive’s “running gear.” You “oil around,” making sure that everything has good lubrication so that things stay right on this morning’s trip.

Your young fireman, Danny McMurphy, finally shuffles out and starts going about his business. He usually does an adequate job but, from the way he is walking, it looks like he was too late at the tavern the previous evening. He is the third generation of McMurphys on the railroad and, unfortunately, granddaddy was the best of the bunch.

When you finish with the running gear, you hand your grip up to Danny, who is already in the cab, and climb the ladder. You look things over and wipe things down and settle in on the right side. At 2:13 the switchman shows up and you ease the engine out onto the mainline, then back it down through the dark to a point east of the platform lights of the passenger station. Sitting in darkness, you wait. By and by the headlight of Southern Railway’s diesels swings into view as they bring No. 18 into the station. The intensity of their headlight illuminates parts of your locomotive in stark relief, while other parts remain in black shadow. The train is two minutes early at 2:33, not bad considering the extra cars which have been added for additional holiday traffic. The diesels un-couple from the train, pull towards you and then dim their light and back away, crossing over to the adjacent track and heading for the Southern’s roundhouse. As soon as the switchmen realigns the switch and gives you the signal you ease back to the train. Baggage, mail and express are already being handled and as soon as you set the locomotive brakes and release the train brakes the car inspectors put up their blue flag (Note 2) and connect hoses and start inspecting the train.

H. O. Richardson walks down the dimly lighted brick platform, his conductor’s-hat only adding to his already considerable height, and you climb down from the cab to meet him. He walks ramrod-straight even though he is getting on in years. He was already a conductor when you were first hired over 30 years ago. You compare watches and he hands you your copies of the train orders. The two of you exchange few words and as he walks back to the cars, you climb back up into the cab. You read your orders by electric lantern, nothing unusual, and you wait. By and by you notice the baggage handlers have finished their job and the car inspectors are coming back to retrieve their blue flag. Departure time is approaching, as you open the valve and send steam back to heat the train, time for a quick prayer for a safe trip and to listen for the conductor’s signal.

At 2:45 AM, the scheduled departure time, you hear the two short peeps of the train communication whistle, the signal to proceed. You answer with two short tugs on the whistle cord, turn the headlight switch from dim to bright, then open the throttle a little bit to stretch out the slack between the train cars and release the train brakes and let the train ease forward. You slowly open the throttle more and hear the periodic “chuff” of the used steam and smoke as it comes out of the cylinders and rushes up the stack. The tempo of the exhaust starts out slowly and then increases as the train rumbles through the switches of the station trackage and past the roundhouse. The sound of metal banging on metal, the sound of the exhaust and the rumble of various appliances, all increase with the speed of the train. Lighted railroad buildings give way to dark houses and then Bristol is left behind.

Locomotive 602 is one of the J series, designed and built to haul passenger trains and were said to be among the best steam locomotives ever built. Certainly a handsome design, they were burly and sleek at the same time, “streamlined,” with most of the pipes and other hardware covered over with sheet metal. They were black with a maroon stripe down the side and the company kept them clean. Like all fine ladies, they required frequent attention.

All, however, is not well, Danny McMurphy sits on the left side staring stupidly ahead while the steam pressure edges downward. It is the fireman’s job to make the steam and you wonder what the problem is. You yell across the cab “are you OK.”

Uh, Yea, Okay... maybe I have a little bit of the flu.” He yells back.

Sure, probably brown bottle flu, you think and turn your attention back to the track ahead, while saying nothing.

Railroading is a dog’s life, You think, you spend most of your time away from home and it seems that you are always working when other people are sleeping and trying to sleep when other people are working.

The line from Bristol to Roanoke is up and down and full of curves. No. 18's run is easy, even with an extra long train, with only two scheduled stops, and you settle into the usual routine as you accelerate on the straight stretches and on the upgrades, while easing back and applying the brakes on curves and downgrades. Steam pressure increases as Danny lets the fire burn too long before adding more coal, and then drops as he turns on the stoker (Note 3) and dumps too much coal on top of the remaining fire, almost smothering it. Then after a while the new coal starts burning and the process repeats itself. This is poor firing practice but it allows the fireman extra “sit down time.”

Even though you are next to the boiler head, it is cold and you catch yourself thinking that an enclosed diesel cab would be nice. You got a little bit of training on diesels a few years ago when John L. Lewis took his United Mine Workers out on strike. Coal became scarce and the Southern Railways’ diesels “ran through” over the Norfolk and Western until things were settled. You remember how different it was to run a diesel but how quickly it became routine, like running a streetcar, not that you had ever run a streetcar but what you would expect if you were to run one. No challenge.

At any rate you and your train shuffle along and manage to stay pretty much “on time,” passing places with names like Meadow View, Glade Spring and Seven-Mile Ford in the dark. At Marion you pass a freight. He is sitting on the side track waiting for you to clear before he can continue towards Bristol. He probably has been waiting for an hour or more. You are all too all too familiar with the waiting game.

After leaving Marion, you start the upgrade to Rural Retreat, the highest point en route. The fire gets really thin as you pass Groseclose and then starts to burn out, but you manage to top-the-grade and drift on down the other side. Danny, characteristically and once again, dumps too much coal on the fire. Steam pressure drops and you wonder if you are going to have to spend part of the morning on the carpet of the superintendent’s office, explaining why you delayed your train and plugged up his division by letting your locomotive’s fire go out.

You shut off the steam going back to heat the train and use a minimum amount of throttle on the downgrade. It takes a while, but Danny has the “Luck of the Irish” and finally the fire starts to catch on and build up around the time you pass through Max Meadows. Of course a smothered fire that is just catching on puts out smoke, a lot of black smoke. You can’t see it because of the dark but you can smell it and almost hear the difference in the sound of the exhaust coming from the stack.

Just east of Max Meadows, you come up to a signal. As expected you have a clear signal, three yellow lights vertically, but as you get up close to it, it changes to a diagonal pattern, indicating “approach,” as in “Proceed preparing to stop at next signal.” Something up ahead? No way of knowing but you growl and apply the brakes. After a bit you come onto the next signal and it shows three lights horizontally, the stop indication! You apply the brakes again and the train groans to a stop.

This is a “restricted” signal, which means you cannot pass it. Time for the conductor to call the dispatcher on the line-side phone, H.O. Richardson is a nice enough man but he gets a little cantankerous when his train is delayed. You sit and wait. After a spell, you see Conductor Richardson walking up to your locomotive. He is uncharacteristically out of sorts.

“You need to back it up -- back it up until your engine is about one mile west of Max Meadows. There is a New York photographer there, taking a picture of your train or at least trying to take a picture of your train, but your locomotive was making too much smoke and so he didn’t take the picture. I can’t hardly believe it but this guy has been given permission by the company to take pictures... his picture taking has been approved all the way up to Race Horse (Note 4) himself!”

“What?” You exclaim in disbelief.

“You need to back it up...” he starts again.

“I heard you I just don’t believe it” you cut him off and explain.

“Neither do I. Just do it and don’t give me any sass! And tell your fire-boy to get his fire this time! Give me a few minutes to get back on the train and I’ll give you the signal and then you can make your back-up move. ”

You do and he does and before too long you are backing up through Max Meadows. There you catch a glimpse of the photographer (Note 5), his assistant and their equipment. As you back past them, you think of the first time you were promoted to engineer. You were so proud then and it meant so much to you! It was a thrill to operate locomotives, even in freight service or on branch lines, even just dragging long strings of coal hoppers out of the hollers. When you were promoted, you finally had a little bit of status, you were no longer just “the fire-boy,” but were referred to by name, and had enough money to get married. You hired a photographer and he took your picture in your “Sunday best” next to one of the first locomotives you took out as an engineer. Now it really hits you that No. 602, and her sisters, will not be around much longer and your days of running steam locomotives are coming to an end.

As you back away from Max Meadows you hear grumbling from the left side.

“From New York, huh.” Danny mumbles, “Who does that guy think he is anyway?”

You turn on Danny and look at him for long time. You have kept your frustration in too long and decide it is time to let him know about it. “Who does he think he is?... Who do you think you are? It is your fault, and not anyone else’s that this locomotive was making black smoke. You should know better, your granddaddy took great pride in running right and never wasting a pound of coal.... Now get this fire right and keep it right and I don’t want to hear any more. We have some time to make up and we are going to run this locomotive as it was meant to be run!”

He says nothing, which proves he isn’t stupid, and gets to work. You stop the train and give Danny three minutes to get things right, then you turn to him and ask “ready?” He nods and you get down to business.

Adjusting the Johnson bar (note 6), you release the brakes and open the throttle. As soon as the wheels start to turn you open the sanding lever in order to get some sand between the rail and the driving wheels, to help the wheels grip the rail. Your years of experience give you a feel for what is going on between the rail and the wheel and you continually adjust the throttle so that you get the maximum amount of acceleration, without slippage. You feel the power pulses coming from the cylinders and some of the old thrill returns as you accelerate No. 18. Just west of Max Meadows you adjust the Johnson bar and ease off on the throttle, no black smoke this time. As you roll past the whitewashed wooden station, more flashbulbs than you have ever seen before go off, flashing the night white. Now it’s time to roll!

You reopen the throttle and the engine surges forward like a race horse. This doesn’t last long because there is a curve up ahead. You apply the brakes lightly, keeping the slack between the cars “stretched out” so you don’t shake up your passengers, then you shut off the throttle and apply the brakes a little more, feeling the shoes grip the wheels and checking the speed of the train. The routine is the same as before but now but the timing is different. Now instead of slowing down well in advance of the curve and letting her slowdown and roll through the curve, you wait until the last possible moment before shutting off the throttle so that the speed drops to the highest possible safe speed at the exact second that the locomotive starts leaning into the curve. This goes on – and on. The whole division is mostly curves with upgrades and downgrades. You work the engine, The Lady, for maximum power on the upgrade and let her roll as fast as is “consistent with safety,” on the downgrades. You roll around a long curve and turn back to look over the train. All seems to be as it should be, six baggage and express cars, six coaches and two Pullmans. Most of the lights are out, nobody in the back, except maybe Conductor Richardson, and the brakemen are aware of the new urgency.

Railroading is a good life. You think, You are out and around and see and feel things that the normal person never knows about.

As you pass Pulaski, you note that you are 28 minutes behind schedule and think how great it would be to make up that time so that this fine machine that you are running would roll into Roanoke “on time” on one of her final trips. You’re on an upgrade now and so you run hard. You’re using a considerable amount of steam but Danny is keeping up with things now. At Dublin you start on a long downgrade and the game changes. You reopen the train heat valve and keep the throttle mostly closed, concentrating on keeping your speed under control. Your years of experience remind you that gravity is your worst enemy on the downgrade and you have to pay attention every second, it is way too easy to go too fast. Still, you make sure that you only use the brake now and then and you let her run. Wheel flanges squeal on the curves but things are under control and the two of you are making up time.

You slow down to cross the New River but still roll into Radford quickly, a little too quickly. You brake for your stop as usual but end up about 50 feet past your usual stopping point. It is 5:34 AM and you are now only 25 minutes late but it takes a little bit of extra time to re-adjust the baggage carts on the platform and unload some of the extra mail and express which comes with the Christmas season so you leave Radford 26 minutes down. You roll on around the bend in the river to the junction with the mainline, taking it easy because you know that if the signal indicates stop it means another train is in the way. It’s all clear, so you ease around the wye and out onto the mainline and head up the hill.

Once again, you “twist her tail a little” and she moves, rolling up the mountain, you don’t have to worry about gravity now. There must have been a slick spot on the rails because your wheels start to slip. You curse and slam the throttle shut, then open it again, almost where it was before, but not quite. This time the wheels hold and you keep the throttle right where it is and mainly use the Johnson bar to control the speed. Danny is keeping a close eye on the fire now and the three of you are doing well and have managed to gain another two minutes.

You make a real textbook stop at Christiansburg, and the men behind take care of things quickly. When you blow the whistle before pulling out of Christiansburg, you hear it echo off the hills and you think that in some ways a steam whistle makes the greatest sound in the world. The flat blatt of the diesel air horn does not compare. Unfortunately, you cannot make up any time coming down Christiansburg Mountain. You ease the train on down the grade and make a safe descent to Elliston. From there, you let her roll along, she knows she is on the homestretch and she knows what to do.

Between Elliston and Salem you pass No 41, rolling west, heading out to from where you came. After you pass Salem, you realize that even though you have made up another three minutes, you’re still 21 minutes late and there is nothing that can be done about it. You knew, when you left Max Meadows, that it would be impossible for you to make up for a half-hour delay. Still, you’re satisfied with the results. You will probably pick up another minute or two because of schedule padding into Roanoke but no one can fault you or your locomotives’ running east of Max Meadows.

The dark of the night is giving way to a gray morning as you roll by the Shaffer’s Crossing roundhouse complex where locomotives are maintained and where, until just a few years ago, the company built their own locomotives. You pass No. 15, heading to Williamson, West Virginia, and Portsmouth, Ohio. You also pass the “dead-line” where steam locomotives sit, cold and lifeless, replaced by the new diesels, a sobering reminder of the times to come. Still, you’re happy about what you and The Lady accomplished in the past 71 miles, it was a good run and it took you back a few years to when you were younger and life was more thrilling.


It is 6:32 AM as the two of you roll slowly up to the Roanoke passenger station platforms, you know that you and the Lady are looking good. On an adjacent track sits a dining car,waiting to be switched into your train as soon as you come to a stop. A heavyset Negro cook dressed in white, with a white hat and apron stands in the narrow kitchen door on the side watching you, catching a little bit of rest and some cool air before the morning’s onslaught of orders for sugar cured ham, eggs and corn muffins. You smile and wave.

Note 1: A K1 was medium sized locomotive, wythe classification number 4-8-2, built in 1916 in the Norfolk and Western’s back-shop in Roanoke.

Note 2: A blue flag is for safety, it indicates that someone is working on the train and means the train cannot be moved for any reason. A blue flag cannot be removed by anyone except the person who put it up.

Note 3: A stoker is a mechanical device which moves coal from the tender into the firebox using an auger, as well as other devices.

Note 4: “Race Horse” was R. H. Smith, President of the Norfolk and Western Railway from 1946 to 1958. He was nicknamed Race Horse because of his initials and his long legs. He was liked and respected by employees and it was said that he had walked every mile of the Railway.

Note 5: O. Winston Link was an industrial photographer who took numerous photographs of the last steam locomotives on the Norfolk and Western Railway. Link worked mostly at night so he could control lighting. He was known for painstaking planning and set up.

Note 6: The Johnson bar is the common name for the lever controlling the steam locomotive’s valve gear. The valve gear controls the length of the stroke of the piston that steam is admitted to the cylinder. For starting, steam is allowed to flow into the cylinder for almost the complete length of the piston stroke, providing maximum starting effort. For sustained running steam is only allowed to enter the cylinder at the beginning of the stroke. The Johnson bar is also used to reverse the direction of operation.