From our weekly issue dated April 30, 2008

Couldn’t get on track for a subject this week until Saturday, April 26, when I attended an Oregon Chautauqua program, sponsored by Kerbyville Museum. Grants Pass resident Jeni Foster presented Magic Carpet Made of Steel: Songs of America’s Railroads, which provided an interesting railroad review.

Besides singing railroad songs, she explained the history of the lyrics and other interesting iron horse information. She got us all steamed up. After her hour-long program, several of the 30 persons attending stood and described their favorite railroad memories. I didn’t stand, but here is one of my true recollections.

It was around 1956 when I was in a train wreck near Somewhere, Ariz. Yes, that’s correct, a wreck. Fortunately I did not suffer fatal injuries. In fact, I wasn’t hurt at all, and neither were any other passengers. We were lucky to have had an alert engineer, who got the Southern Pacific RR Sunset Limited slowed enough so that only the three diesel locomotives and the first of two baggage cars slipped off the tracks. The mishap was caused by a desert flash flood that disturbed a trestle.

I had awakened around 3 a.m. when the train lurched to a stop, which was not unusual. Trains are always stopping for one reason or another. But I noticed that we were surrounded by darkness. Later I cleverly noticed that unlike other stops, we hadn’t begun moving for a long time. When daylight arrived, it became apparent that Something Was Going On because a bunch of SP trucks and emergency rigs were on a highway parallel to the tracks some 100 yards to one side.

Eventually my cousin Cliff and I (and all the other passengers) were told that it was OK to detrain (is that a word?) and walk about while the engines and baggage car were put back on the tracks. Cliff and I were told though that we better watch our step out there. We were extremely careful, and we discovered, fortunately in time, why you weren’t supposed to flush the toilets while in a station. Wow, we almost walked in front of a pipe to discover that.

Because of the accident (the off-tracks one, not the toilet pipe), we were way late getting into Los Angeles, and of course way late reaching San Diego via the Santa Fe RR from there. My dad was irate because he didn’t know about the trouble, and had gone to the SF depot near the foot of Broadway several times, which interrupted his job.

My mom said he should be glad we were safe, and Cliff and I agreed. He did too, eventually. He was a great dad, but a bit hung up on work. Oh dear, is that where I got that ..? Guess I’m well trained in more ways than one.