About the Author J. D. Santucci (a.k.a. "Tuch") began his railroading career in 1978 as a trainman on the Missouri Pacific. After a round of lay-offs in 1985, Tuch embarked on a railroad odyssey, working in many different situations for different roads. This column tries to explain some of the nuts and bolts of the job and also demonstrates what we have to deal with on a regular basis within and without the industry. Tuch currently works through freights out of Chicago for Canadian National/Illinois Central. ©1999, 2003-2007 JD Santucci. Logo ©2002 The Railroad Network. By J.D. Santucci

August 27, 2003
It’s about time to delve into this topic again. I have a ton of fun writing about the bizarre and strange situations and occurrences that seem to occur on a frequent basis. I guess we should call this “Tales from the bizarre side.” As per my usual policy, I will not disclose names of the folks involved, locations or railroads except for one instance and you’ll see why when you get there. While some of the victims deserve their privacy others do not. However, those ones that do not are the ones I need to be concerned about. This policy also keeps me from getting sued by those who should be given up. In our litigious society, people who perform dumb and foolish acts seem to feel they should be compensated for their stupidity. They don’t feel they should be held responsible for their acts, no matter how goofy. And I know that I shouldn’t be the one who has to provide them with a source of revenue for their acts.

So we’ll use this disclaimer; “Any resemblance of the people I describe here to actual people living or dead, is a dirty shame.”

Our first episode involves a guy attempting to operate a switch. Apparently this guy was rushing and in quite the hurry get the chore assigned completed. He cut a few corners and did not take into consideration that the switch he was about to operate might not throw quite so easy. Somehow, he managed to slip will pulling up the switch handle. I’m guessing it had hung up and bit and then suddenly freed up. In the process of lining this switch, the guy fell forward and managed to hit himself in the head with the switch handle. These handles are heavy and have a counterweight on them to make operating it easier. This counterweight is known as the ball of the handle. Anyway, our buddy manages to whack himself in the head with the switch handle knocking himself out. He even managed to knock a tooth or two out as well.

Oh that’s gotta hurt.

Now I’ve heard of people smacking themselves in the shins or knees with the handle or even getting a finger or hand caught and breaking it in the handle, but I’ve never met anybody else who managed to knock themselves out with a switch handle before. Perhaps we should nominate this fellow for a Darwin award.

A guy I know at one railroad was working an assignment one evening and the job was heading back to the yard after switching an industry. This guy went to sit in his seat like anybody else would do when fate struck. As he leaned into the seatback, it broke. He started to fall backwards. Instinctively, he started thrashing his arms and pulling himself forward to try to stop the fall. Good idea, unfortunately, his motion to save himself was what did him in. As his arms were flailing, one of them swung back up and he managed to hit himself solidly in the head. He really nailed his head good as he knocked himself out.

Upon going unconscious, he fell forward out of the broken seat. So now, not only was out cold from punching himself in the head, he was doing a free fall. His fall ended rather abruptly. Unfortunately for him, he fell directly into the corner of the high voltage cabinet of the switch engine in which he was riding. When his head smacked the high voltage cabinet, it opened a large gash on his head.

After all this, he was transported to the hospital and needed to get several stitches to close the wound. He was off work for several weeks from this event. The railroad involved was very sympathetic to his situation trying to figure out a way to discipline him for this episode. Never mind the fact the seat broke, you should never, under any circumstances, knock yourself out when trying not to fall. The company was actually trying to contend that perhaps he had tampered with the seat or something. I was surprised some rule wasn’t created to address this type of situation when the safety rule book was reissued.

Last I heard, this guy became a company official. I shall refrain from comment.

The next one involves yours truly. I can’t sue myself so there is no concern about litigation here. This episode was mostly a state of mind failure, not a just a bad luck or lack of good judgment thing.

I was working at the IHB at the time and it was my very first day back in the seat running an engine again after giving up the job as Trainmaster. I was working an afternoon job at Michigan Avenue Yard in East Chicago. As I had mentioned, my state of mind was a tad off center. Hell, who am I kidding, it was off in left field somewhere.

“His mind is definitely not right.”

BP-8 had just cut away from his train in track six and had come out onto the lead and headed up the third rail towards CP 100 in the Indiana Harbor area of East Chicago to enter the main track and head back south towards Calumet Tower. For those not familiar with this area, the third rail was the lead that extended north of Michigan Avenue proper and the north end of the yard. CP 100, which used to be known as Fort Wayne on the IHB back in the days when the Pennsylvania Railroad, later Penn Central and then Conrail’s line between Fort Wayne, IN and Chicago crossed the IHB. When the former PRR line was relocated in the Cline Avenue Extension project of the early 1980’s, the tower here was closed and the Fort Wayne line trackage and diamonds used to cross the IHB was removed. Control of the crossovers connecting the third rail to the main tracks and the crossovers between the main tracks was given the IHB Dispatcher and the name of this plant was changed to CP 100. I have no clue as to why it was called 100 as opposed to something else. This isn’t milepost 100 or anything remotely close.

But I digress.

Anyway, the Avenue Yardmaster calls me on the radio and tells me to watch out for the track six switch to be lined against me as BP-8 has just pulled out of this track. I was rolling up the lead behind him, saw this guy make his move and was well aware of what was going on, but a little reminder is always a good thing. You just can’t be too safe.

I was dealing with the issues about my resignation of the Trainmaster position. I was disappointed that the end of my management days came to the conclusion that it did. I was very disillusioned with the way I was treated by my superiors and how they pretty much failed to support me. I was figuring that they would seek revenge for my resignation feeling I had walked out on them. I had also been given a great big hassle about having to get the physical and drug test again, even though I had had one less than a year previous. Call it harassment or whatever; I saw it as the beginning of their retaliation over my resignation. I had quit the team.

So here I am pulling up towards the six switch seeing the move BP-8 made, observing the switch being lined against me and thinking about all the stuff in the paragraph above. What I saw and what I was thinking were two completely different topics and one was interfering with the thought process of the other. Guess which one was winning out here?

So here I go rolling towards the six switch and observing the yellow target on the switch stand telling me it was wrong. I was leaning forward with my chin in the palm of my hand and watched the switch as I ran through it. As soon as I committed this rule violation, it suddenly dawned on me that I was supposed to stop and get the switch restored to normal.

Instead of giving myself up over the radio, I once again, thought like the enemy. I quickly brought my move to a stop. I was right by the yard office and dropped off the engine and went in and told the Yardmaster on duty what I had done. On the IHB, running through a switch was a violation that required a drug test. The Yardmaster could not lose me and this job for several hours for the whiz quiz, so he hatched a plan.

The track department had been working in the yard earlier that day and left one of their trucks and lots of the supplies and tools right there. We both headed back out into the yard and he came and cut me away from the rest of the cut I was coupled onto and had me pull it clear of the switch. I got off the engine and we went to work on this switch. We grabbed a couple of spike mauls out of the track department truck and began to work on the switch. We were finally able to get it lined back for the lead and then placed a spike next to the switch points to spike them into place so that they would no move. While it wasn’t fixed, the switch was spiked and lined for the lead so that we and all other jobs here could still use the lead. It kept his place in business and kept my assignment working. It also kept me out of huge trouble. We didn’t even tell my Conductor about it that evening. I finally told him several weeks later, when it was past the point in time they could demand and order an investigation into the affair.

The following morning this Yardmaster contacted the track department folks to inform them he had to spike the six switch as it cocked and got stuck when somebody was trying to line it. The track foreman came out and insisted it had been run through but this guy told him otherwise. The switch got fixed and I got away with running through it.

I did get questioned about it several weeks later (right after the “statute of limitations” for calling an investigation had expired) when the General Road Foreman of Engines asked me about what happened that evening. I played possum. He kept asking about the switch I had run through at the Avenue and I insisted I didn’t know what he was talking about. I used the very same psychology that kept me out of trouble during my turbulent teen years. He told me of the track foreman telling him somebody ran through that switch although it had been denied by the Yardmaster. All I told him was that it had been reported as being very hard to line and had gotten hung up when somebody was trying to use it. Of course, I didn’t mention the fact that it got stuck because I had run through it. I was trying to use it, but not in the manner in which it was designed. But nonetheless, I was using that switch.

Like the lawyer told me, only answer the question asked and offer no additional details on your own.

Moving right alone, one guy I know had to ride a cut of cars they were shoving back to couple on to their train. The shove would be nearly a mile. As it was later in the evening it was dark out and he wanted to light up the way so to speak. Nothing like shedding a little light on the subject and add some visibility to yourself in the dark. So like so many others have done over the years, he lit up a couple of fusees and placed them on the end of the car. Now the rulebook states very clearly that you must exercise good judgment and care when using fusees so as not to cause a fire to bridges, buildings and track structure. However, the rule is silent about being careful not to cause fires on railcars.

Normally, most folks use pretty good judgment when using fusees on rail cars placing them in highly visible, but safe locations, such as on a portion of the car that is made from steel. On the night of which we speak, our hero had apparently left his good judgment in his other pants. The first car of the cut he was shoving was a flatcar. Not just any flatcar but a flatcar with a wooden deck. And the fusees you ask? Well, they were placed directly onto the wooden deck. Now this car was not a new car, nor one that had recently received a new deck or anything. No, no, no, it was an old deck, with the wood all good and dry. The burning fusees which are comprised of sulfur burning at molten temperatures; rather quickly ignited the wood underneath them and within a short period of time, the entire deck of the car became engulfed in flames.

I hate when that happens.

Then there was the guy using the company truck to drive out to give a train an air test. In order to reach the train this guy was required to park the truck in a questionable neighborhood. There is no choice in the matter of leaving the truck here and it was done routinely in order to give such tests on trains at this location. However, his judgment was slightly askew as he not only left the keys in the truck; he left it running as well. To reach the tail end of this train at this particular location required climbing up the embankment to reach the track where the train was located. And when this guy reached the tail end of the train he was out of visual contact with the truck.

Upon completion of the air test this guy drops back down the embankment and returns to the truck; the same truck he had left running several minutes earlier. To his shock and dismay, the truck was gone. Oh, oh. I would have gladly paid $5 to hear him try to explain what happened to the truck to the company officials.

The police found the truck several days later in the driveway of a home several miles from where it had vanished. The decal featuring the railroad logo was still intact on either side of the truck. Even the original license plates belonging to the railroad were still in place. When the truck was seized and the perpetrator of the crime arrested, it was discovered the truck was actually in better condition than when it was stolen. This alleged truck thief had apparently taken the truck to a shop and had it completely detailed. It was nice and shiny clean with a fresh coat of wax that was buffed to a spectacular shine. The interior had also been thoroughly cleaned as well. This truck had not been so clean since it was new several years earlier. The perpetrator had spent good money to spiffy up the truck he had stolen. Whatta guy. Of course I’m curious as to why he didn’t try to have the railroad logo decals removed when he had it detailed. It would not have stood out quite so well when the cops spotted it. Perhaps the thief could get an honorable mention in the Darwin Awards.

One railroader I am acquainted with told me a story of needing to use the facilities on the engine while they were peddling down the pike. It happens routinely; all that coffee and water we drink needs to come back out at some point. This fellow stepped down into the dungeon to take care of business. Unfortunately for him, the timing was all wrong. While he was down there he heard the air go as the train went into emergency and then heard the Engineer yell out for him to hold on. Well, that’s exactly what he was doing, holding on. Unfortunately though, what he holding onto was not a part of the locomotive.

His train smacked a truck at a crossing. Between the impact of the collision and the rapid changing of the slack in the train from the emergency application, this guy got knocked around the confines of the dungeon. Fortunately, these rooms tend to be rather cramped so he didn’t get knocked too far. However, at the point of impact, he was not quite finished recycling the coffee either. By the time the train came to a stop, he wound on the dungeon floor with the rest of the recycled coffee winding up all over his bibs. Now even though it is a known fact that no job is complete until the paperwork is finished, I don’t believe all the paperwork in the world would have been of much use to him at that point.

And finally, speaking of restroom type stories, this one is a real gem. No, it is not just a gem, it is a diamond. A couple of long time readers and friends with whom I am personally acquainted that know of this story have been begging and bugging me to find a way to write about this episode. I cannot believe the individual involved in this episode even recounted this story to me. I’m pretty certain that I would not have told anybody about this, ever. I have been trying to figure out for some three years now how to address this episode in a truly tasteful manner. I have never come up with the ideal way, but I’ll tell it anyway.

“It’s the story that needs to be told!”

It seems this guy is approaching the home terminal. Suddenly, he has the urge to recycle; and not just the coffee, but last night’s dinner. You know the big one, which is more commonly known by its technical name “number two.” I believe you get the picture.

Anyway, this guy felt the urge and it seemed quite powerful. He was about ten minutes or so away from where he would be stopping and figured he was good to make it there. He also decided that perhaps relieving of some gaseous pressure that tends to prefix such moves would buy him some extra needed time. You know, draw off some brake pipe pressure as it were. So he “set a little air.” However in doing so, the valve apparently broke and instead of his affecting a little brake pipe reduction, he “went into emergency” as it were. The compressed methane was not alone. But it didn’t just end with a little deposit in the old Fruit of the Loom’s. Instead, the rapid relief of pressure accompanied by the left over portions of yesterday’s edibles being forced into the tightly compressed area created an incredible backlash effect. The rapidly discharging product which was apparently a volume load was seeking to find an escape route. This discharge was being driven by quite the intense force of pressurized methane which was simultaneously being recompressed. It sought and found relief through the path of least resistance; up between his back and the shirt he was wearing. It then exploded out of the top of his shirt. And from what he told me, with quite the incredible release.

It was described as being somewhat akin to the same phenomenon that occurs when oil is struck in a wildcat well and the geyser of black gold gushes forth. However in this case, the gold was not black and nobody would be excited about what “God hath wrought” proclaiming their sudden wealth and great fortune.

“That’s not oil; that’s earl!”

The two best features of this event were number one; it didn’t happen to me and number two; I wasn’t in the cab of the locomotive when the geyser brought forth its riches.

And once again, I don’t believe the paperwork was of much of a conclusion to this task.

And so it went. Or perhaps I should say and so he goes.

We have added a dissertation about the Chicago Sub of the MoPac to the Screaming Eagles web site. You can take a look at http://mo-pac.com/tuch_chicagosub_1.html. There are also some maps added as well. We have a bunch of photographs and you can follow the links from the above URL to them. We have recently added several more photos to the site. My friend Todd Greuter owns this site and is kind enough to host my Chicago Subdivision pages. While there take a look at the rest of the site as well; Todd has done a terrific job covering the Missouri Pacific.

And so it goes.

Tuch