Looking back on it from the future, the railroad was a significant feature of our youthful years in Spring Valley. Of course we weren’t aware of it at the time. The railroad had always been there in the background of our lives. In retrospect, however, it stands out as one of the features of “Old Spring Valley” that shaped us and makes our generation a bit different from later generations growing up in “The Gulch”.

I spent a fair amount of time around the railroad, playing on the tracks, the rolling stock (boxcars, gondolas, flatcars) and buildings. Many other kids did too.

We were fortunate enough to actually be able to ride in the caboose while the train crew and engineers were repositioning cars and turning the engine around on the “Y”. Of course OSHA wouldn’t allow that today, but OSHA wasn’t yet a gleam in a politician’s eye at that time.

I remember how we always braced ourselves for the “hit” when the engine connected with the train. It was especially fun to sit up in the cupola that extended above the roof of the caboose. This was designed to give the crew a good view of the train all the way to the engine at the front, and it provided us with a good view of what was going on during the switching operations.

John Kirk, currently of Barron, remembers doing some metal work on the tracks:

“As kids, we used to lay pennies on the rails to see what they would look
like after the train ran over them. They were as flat as pancakes when
that big heavy engine ran over them.”

After the train had flattened it, it was about twice its previous diameter, and about as thin as a piece of paper.

It didn’t spend very well in that shape, though, so I never did it. In those days a penny or two still bought a fairly large Tootsie Roll at the grocery store. We used scrap metal and Cherry Bombs instead. Funny thing, those Cherry Bombs just never flattened out very well. Any way, it was hard to find them after they had detonated under the train’s wheels. It did tend to get the engineers attention, though, and that was worthwhile.

We used to climb all over the rolling stock. Up and down the iron ladders, in and out of the boxcars and along their tops (and onto the roof of the depot - see part 2). I can still tell you how a “knuckle” coupling works – a bit of knowledge that most of today’s kids don’t have (or need).

Speaking of boxcars and iron ladders, I remember when a friend and classmate, Jim Meier, decided one cold winter’s day to find out what would happen if he stuck his tongue on the iron ladder on a boxcar. Of course it froze to the ladder, and there he stood. Along about that time we heard the haunting hoot of the train’s whistle as it crossed highway B by Madsons’ Mill heading for Spring Valley. We thought we were going to have to race up the track past Blegen’s and lie down on the rails to stop the train before it got to Jim and his boxcar. Fortunately Jim’s heavy panting thawed his tongue enough so that we were relieved of that frightening prospect. We all got out of it with a small price to pay – a little of the skin from Jim’s tongue traveling to parts unknown frozen on that boxcar ladder.

The boxcars and other rolling stock had air brakes. There was a lever extending out from underneath both sides of each car that, when pulled, released the air pressure with a loud hiss. It was the job of a crewmember to walk along one side of the train after its journey downhill from the main line in Woodville and release the built up air pressure by pulling those levers. We would sometimes wait on the other side of a car, and just as the crewmember reached for the lever we would pull the one on the opposite side, releasing the pressure with a loud hiss. Of course this startled the crewmember, but we were long gone before he could see who did it.

Throwing snowballs at the engine was always great sport. I had a good arm and a deadly aim in those days, if I do say so myself. I decided to target one of the engineers as he was leaning out of the engine’s cab by the depot looking back up the track. I was standing on the depot platform (see part 2 for the depot layout), and hauled off and let him have it right in the back of the noggin.

His cap fell to the ground between the engine and the platform. I think I was sitting on a stool at Leonard Thompson’s restaurant having a “chocolate coke” by the time that engineer’s cap hit the ground. At any rate I didn’t waste any time getting out of there. The other guys said later that the engineer asked them who I was. He said “If I ever catch that little “runt” (my word, not his) I’ll kick his ”behind“ (abridged yet again) right up between his ears. When I get through with him, he’ll have to unzip his pants to blow his nose!” To his credit and my relief, nothing ever came of it. I still blow my nose in the usual way.

The engineers got back at me, however. My dad, Rex, had a garage at the bottom of the hill, and a driveway over the ditch connecting it to railroad property. I was standing facing the driveway, but close to the idling engine, with my back to it. The engineer decided that this would be good time to release some steam. I remember one second just standing there in the driveway with the engine clunking and gurgling behind me, and the next second being completely engulfed in a howling cloud of water vapor (see figure 1). The steam cooled and condensed rapidly when it was released, so no harm done, but the next thing I remember was standing about halfway up the hill to our house looking back down on the engine sitting on the tracks. I don’t remember thinking about the journey at all – my legs made the decision and I was just along for the ride.

My mother, Golda, happened to be out on our front porch and she saw the whole thing. She said she never saw anyone move so fast in her life. She laughed until the tears rolled down her cheeks telling about it.

Figure 1 - Steamed

It was funny. I have to take my hat off to the engineer for that one. He certainly got even for the snowball caper.

Well, those are just some of the stories about the railroad and the kids in Spring Valley. While there are many other stories, I think the anecdotes above provide the flavor of growing up in Spring Valley with the railroad in our midst.

The Spring Valley Kid

Russ Pence

pence@asu.edu