My Column for The Community Spirit--Update of previous post---sorta
Maybe thirty years ago we visited Amherst and drifted around town taking in the small town flavor which included a couple of old passenger train cars parked just north of the Wilson Street bridge. The cars were tired and clearly the remnants of the previous decades, maybe many decades. (Painting by Ann Herzog Wright 1983)
We were drawn to them I suppose, because as kids growing up here in Wisconsin, we had used the trains to travel to a few big cities, like Milwaukee and Chicago. It was romantic, in a way, being on a train with a powerful diesel engine, among my young friends on our senior class trip, doing stupid things involving flatulence and profanity. Just memories.
When I was younger still ( and possibly involving those old passenger cars) the black, oily steam engines roared by my grandfather’s place in Illinois, spitting out smoke and steam. Monsters to a kid, all that steel and motion, the engineer who smiled at youngsters, who gave the sign of “I see you kid, and this is America”. My brothers and I waited each day for their timely passing, the chugga-chugga----the fading of the sound as the Doppler affect took over and they were gone. They were gone. The iron horse of history was gone there in ‘ 55 or so.
Seeing the old car here in Amherst in 1982 was a reminder. It is gone now and has been for years, I suspect, but hidden there under the soil on both sides of the road are still the iron rails. They are covered with brush and use, but still there as if waiting, maybe in vain, but waiting as a siding. Each time I walk by I remember. The trains still pass on the upper tracks but it is different, less personal, less a part of the small community, just a noise in the night, almost unseen. Kids don’t pay attention to the trains now.
But memories have a way of lingering because there must have been something good there, some romance, maybe fascination of moving, maybe opportunity, maybe a link with other magical places. Were they dragons of growth and industry?
Last week the local model railroaders of the Waupaca area may have lent some answers to the questioning memories. There it was, the massive layout of our area spread across the gymnasium. Initially, one would think this would be the interest of the young ones but it was not. It was of my people reveling in the memories of the age of rail, past rail I should say, as modern rail is still here, but this was mostly rail of another time.
Different portions of the setup were made by different individuals and one would assume that each presentation reflected memories or points of interest from some years ago. Interestingly, Amherst was there, in part represented by a simple but aesthetic Amish farm, and there were small communities, all serviced by the trains. Along the way were the sights, elegant mills, even a few bums lounging, bottle in hand, in the hobo jungle somewhere, probably by Stevens Point.
What I assume was the Tomorrow River, wound its way through the country side and I couldn’t help but think of the rail river crossing to the north of Amherst, the one that heads east toward Scandinavia. Keeping it real some modeler included a couple of junked cars half dissembled along a siding.
Personally, I would have included more steam and in doing so would have burned a small piece of coal for ambiance. To add reality someone might add a housewife standing close to the track shaking her fist at the train as the stinking monsters spewed out coal dust over here newly hung wash---maybe that was there. There were many stories in the display, some not entirely of rails making. My favorite turned out to be somewhat hidden behind a cliff of rocks, all expertly crafted. There was a classic 21 window VW deluxe transporter, probably mid 60s, partially hidden by a grand oak. Next to the gorgeous van were 4 hippy chicks all in a state of undress, getting ready to jump in the Tomorrow River.
I knew I was home, and I knew the artist that put this display together had to be of a like mind---and our friend, Conductor Dennis, was found to be the modeler. The day was complete. It was true nostalgia of the grandest sort. I could just see the expression on the engineer’s face as he caught a glimpse of the naked beauties---and maybe the VW.
It was then, but not just then, that it seemed possible that maybe the complete train service may come back, after all it is the cheapest way to move people and material, less fuel per pound moved. The Amherst track still sits half buried there next to the bridge and there just might be new crop of hippies out there. I still have my VW bus.
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