Chapter One
They've seen her on Sohl Avenue, those Calumet Regionites. Otherwise known as the residents of the City of Hammond Indiana, Lake County. Passing by, catching a glimpse of her in the corner of their eye while she sleeps in the weeds, the noble steel giant with the weather stained finish of black, the immense weight of her mighty bulk slowly crushing her supportive rails into the dirt--
"What is that thing?" people may think to themselves as they rush by. "It's been sitting there for as long as I can remember. Doesn't do anything, just...sits. And the lettering on the sides that says Nickel Plate Road, what does that mean?"
In short, that thing is a steam locomotive. Once owned by the Nickel Plate Road railroad, a business entity that has long deceased. Had constructed and owned the rail line through Northwest Indiana, passed through Hammond. A rail line still owned via a series of rail company mergers that came later, Norfolk Southern.
It's true, she never calls, never answers. Always slumbering she never moves, never reacts when she catches a humanly stare. As if she was holding her breath for all of eternity, damned to carry a face of stoic determination...
...yet she has an interesting story to tell the curious, this railroad locomotive crafted for an era that has already past, keeps many tales for those who wish to hear. She wasn't always a mute, immobile object of puzzling yet grand proportions.
For there once was a time when she, the 624, was full of charming noises, marvelous action, performed a useful service and it was all wonderful. With a roaring fire in her belly, a snoot of water and steam in her boiler? She was transformed, becoming animated, dramatic, moving, alive. A breathing and living machine, this triumphant creation of mankind--
A machine with an anthropomorphic personality, a soul if you will. In the rugged hands of a capable and understanding operator, she could smoothly put shoulder to wheel, start and pull impossibly long and heavy trains with a sharp staccato bark from her exhaust. Once underway and gaining speed, the increasing exhaust beats would blend into a steady aural blur. Fire and steel, flesh and blood, all moving and working as one. When the 624 was happy, she could show you, tell you.
In the hands of an inexperienced, or long time calloused, impatient and unempathic engineer, she could act badly. Fiercely stubborn, defiant, she would snort her indignation skywards, slipping and furiously spinning her drivers on the rails. Telling all that she was displeased of being handled in such a rough, shabby manner. When the 624 wasn't happy, you knew this as well.
Yes, she could even tell you of her health, when she felt great with a joyful song in her heart and all was well. Or when she had come down with a sickly ailment, needing of treatment.
Then there are the countless stories of personal experience of she and her sisters across the nation had carried with them. The days, weeks, months, years, decades of active service. Night and day, 24 hour cycles, the railroad never sleeps. Hustling freight and passenger trains from terminal to terminal, stopping at or passing towns, cities along the right-of-way path formed of steel rails, wooden ties.
The sweltering hot summers, the cool moonlit nights of smooth running. The violent thunderstorms, the heavy rains. The frigid winters, busting through tall snowdrifts that threatened to halt forward progress. There was very little that Mother Nature could fling in the 624's face, having her balk. If she had steam in her cylinders, a measure of adhesion at the railhead, a reasonable amount of tonnage tied to her rear coupler...that train's gonna move.
Might take an engineer in the cab with a cigar in his pus, a 'What? Me worry?' look of glinty eyed devil-may-care determination on his face as he babied the 624's throttle. She might have to get down on her hands and knees to move a heavy train under adverse weather conditions, strain mightily to do it. But with seasoned human expertise, when the 624 was feeling good and up to the challenge, the train would start and roll, mile after mile after mile. Man and Machine, both depending upon one another to get a job done, even to the point of doing what others said couldn't be done.
There are also the stories lived of railroad freight operations. The uneventful times of coupling on to a train, easing out upon the mainline from one point, having a clear path ahead, nothing but green signals sparkling along the way. Stopping for only fuel and water, covering hundreds of easy miles before reaching a destination.
Along with the not so easy trips, such as when the main was plugged with heavy traffic, tied up with too many trains trying to move all at once. You may have found the 624 and her crew stopped at a rail siding, located in the remote wilderness. Listening to the crickets, frogs, staring intensely at a red signal that refuses to give a proceed indication.
"Earl, Looks like we're gonna be tied down here for a while" as a Nickel Plate Road passenger train rushes by and disappears over the horizon. "Got any more coffee in yer thermos?"
"Yeah Mel, right here" mutters an Engineer Earl as he now notes a headlight of an opposing train on the main appear in the distance, growing larger. "Dispatcher's gonna move the priority stuff before he'll move us...who knows how long we'll have to sit here."
"Probably. Hope we can make up the lost time if 'patch decides to let us back on the main."
"I think so. Got ourselves a great steaming engine today, the 624, she's feeling frisky."
"Yeah...hey! I brought steaks and onions today. Now's a good time for cooking, ya want one?
"Darn right I do, I'm all hollowed out an' can use some good grub. Make mine rare but this time, leave off the onions. I like them..." as Earl rubs his belly "...but they don't like me."
Mel would then grab a coal shovel, clean it with water and cotton waste. Slap two thick steaks on the shovel blade, open the doors on the firebox. Insert the shovel, cooking the steaks to juicy perfection inside of the roaring internal inferno. Railroad Cooking they called it, perhaps one of many episodic vignettes that may have played while out on the road, taking place within the cab of the 624, a little touch of home--
It may well be that soon after Engineer Earl and Fireman Mel had consumed their firebox broiled steak dinners, the siding signal flicked from red to a more favorable approach indication. Earl quickly kicked off the engine & train airbrakes, tugged at the throttle & valve levers while Mel busied himself with the coal stoker and the injector, feeding more fuel and water into the locomotive. Slowly moving, oozing around the short curve, wheel flanges squealing as the 624 passes through the switch that connects the siding to the main. Strenuous energy blasts of steam and smoke jet upwards from her stack, her driving rods now a tumbling, whirling motion as she overcomes inertia, gathering speed.
We remain at the siding, watching as the 624 disappears from view, we can only track her forward momentum by her smoke trail. Her train of boxcars, reefers, hoppers, gondola, tank and flat cars roll by, listening the enchanting rhythmic clicks as steel wheels glide over steel rail joints.
The caboose eases out onto the mainline, a symbolic period signifying the end of this long, clattering yet colorful statement. A friendly wave to the caboose crew (they wave back), and we remain, riveted as we see the caboose along with the rear marker lights she carries grow smaller and smaller until distance squeezes them to two small lights...then out of our view. She's probably doing 40, making for 50 miles an hour by the time we can no longer see her.
Quiet returns to this rail siding spot, the loud mechanical symphony of glorious noise in a rush to get somewhere fast has left. Again, nothing to hear but the crickets, frogs, the wind whistling through the tree leaves, the lineside telegraph and signal wires.
Looks like Earl and Mel will be able indeed to make up lost time, coaxing the 624 onward, she giving one of the best performances of her life. As long as the unexpected doesn't happen, such as a locomotive or rolling stock malfunction. Taking on a load of bad coal or water, creating foam in the boiler, clinker-riddled fuel that won't burn hot. As well as being a fire that becomes a labor intensive nightmare to maintain.
As well as hoping to avoid those heart pounding external situations of danger, a large farm animal stopped upon the tracks and won't give way. A motor vehicle stalled on a road crossing. A broken rail, a washed out bridge, a railroad command structure that's temporarily snafu'ed. A busted signal, another engineer that's had too much to drink and shouldn't be on duty. Or fighting off fatigue, working long hours and getting very little rest.
Much as today, these were the realities of steam railroading, gremlins that could and would appear, problems that were dealt with as best as humanly possible, facets that bestowed railroading with much of its irresistible storybook drama, it's unique flavoring. The desire to push on regardless, to overcome, to better the sum of its parts.
Finally, though we cannot see...we can still hear her from far away. The 624's steam whistle as Earl yanks a cord, blows the whistle as he approaches a public road crossing. A moaning, haunting melodic voice that we best associate with the steam locomotive. A voice that once you hear, you'll always remember.
The above transcription was indeed an exercise of the imagination, yet constructed of very same tapestry of railroad work, the occurrences common of the railroad lifestyle. If it occured in railroading, odds favor they also happened with the 624, during her record of daily service.
Now then, a look at the next phase of her life. Just how did the 624, after she was retired by her owner, the Nickel Plate Road, wind up as a public display in Hammond Indiana?
More precise, what were the circumstances that lead to the city towards acquiring a steam locomotive after she was sent to pasture, yet averting a horrific scrapyard doom?
Let's turn to Chapter Two and find out!