Jun. 07, 2007 - 21:29 MDT

THIS JEW WONDERS ?

I worked at the D&RGW / Rock Island freighthouse in Denver during World War 2. I went to work at the railroad as men were going to war. Being classified as Four F because of tachycardia (rapid heartbeat) I was avidly hired on.

I started out as a messenger boy (man) and seal checker. Delivering and picking up waybills for cars of freight at other railroads in town and checking seals on incoming trains.

My bicycle and flashlight were my equipment as well as several pencils as I had to write in a book the car numbers as I checked seals. Often on my rounds I would meet armed soldiers who were guarding trains stopped momentarily in our town, waiting to be switched into another train. They'd check me out and let me go on to my duties.

Big trains would come in from the Western Slope, some super big engines called Mallets came in from the mountains, especially during peach season pulling loads from the orchards on the Western Slope of Colorado.

There was no formal schooling but safety in the railyards was taught by those who knew their way around and paying attention to such people saved my sticky butt several times, especially in checking charcoal heaters in freight cars of perishables during cold weather.

I loved the work, the atmosphere, the rail yards and the smoke and steam from the engines.

That was back in the days before tractors and trailers pretty well took over some of the hauling. (railroads still haul heavy stuff like coal and such) I do remember that Safeway would bring trailers to our railyard which would be loaded onto flatcars and secured, making the trip to another town to be unloaded there. I think the narrow guage rails were going out and Rio Grande MotorWay was doing work in that area.

I never knew what I would encounter in the yards at night, often cattle cars would be on the train I was checking and reading seals on the doors of them was excitingly disgusting, I could still smell quite well, and got wet down now and then.

Running errands on a bicycle on icy cobblestones was adventurous, often producing scabs and torn clothing.

I had a friend at the 7th Street yard office, who in the course of time became my best friend. Heather was baby sitter for his kids - - (another story for another time). He and I were philosophical mates in many ways and could differ in opinion but still having respect for each other. That being a normal stop for me we had some good visiting time together.

On the lower floor of the Yard Office is where the yard workers had pegs for their coats, benches along the side and kept their lunches there. They were a rougher tougher type than I, such things as limburger cheese sandwiches, and yellow onions (eaten like an apple) and coffee stronger, I swear than the espresso of today were common.

I learned and grew more into adulthood as I worked there.

Finally they took me inside the freight house to make a clerk out of me, another grand adventure for me, this rookie still wet behind the ears. I had many duties, worked the night switch desk for a long time, then went upstairs to work on damage reporting and such. While up there I built two little books that cross referenced freight car numbers and dates they were in our hands. Which helped me no end in tracing damages to frieght.

It was work interesting to me and done with out of date equipment and stationery in a building old fashioned, perhaps civil war era. It did have hot and cold running water and commodes and electric lights. My war machine on the switch desk was an old open frame Underwood typewriter, which suited me to a tee.

As the war drew to an end I got word through the other folks of the men who had been drafted, most of whom were still alive and intending to return to the freight house, thus leaving me out of a job. So when the war ended I resigned and went to work driving a furniture truck.

I had been on the truck for several months when I met a man from the uptown office one day at a cafe. He asked me where I went as they had been planning on taking me uptown to work there.

So, how would my future have gone if I had stayed at the frieght house ? Would I have been brought uptown before I was out of a job ? By then I was married and we had our son, at least by quitting and going to work driving a furniture truck there was rent and grocery money plus a bit more. But, you know THIS JEW WONDERS ? . . . . . . . . . . .

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