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

November 14, 2006
Before we dive into this day’s subject matter, I am glad to inform you all that effective Monday, November 13th, I have returned to active duty. My doctor and the company appointed physician cleared me this past week. So to quote the late Gene Autry, “I’m back in the saddle again.”

Also, with the Santa Train coming up in less than a month I had mentioned some Santa Train memorabilia to be sold on ebay for charity. I am posting tabular general bulletin orders and track warrants issued to the crews working the Santa Train in 2004 and 2005. You can take a look at them here and here.

All of the proceeds from the sale of these items will go directly to charity; in this case directly to Catholic Charities Hurricane Katrina Relief. I will not keep any of proceeds from these items.

And now, on with the show.

This will not be still another look at going dead on the hours, but rather, a look at what happens when motive power fails and you come to a stop as a result. When this occurs you refer to it as being “dead on the rail.” In today’s lesson, we are going to study what causes one to fall into this lifeless state.

Motive power fails no matter how well it is built or how well it is maintained. Components break, wear out, burn up, come apart or otherwise just fail at the most inopportune moments. And in some cases those moments occur at the worst possible times possible such as when you are trying to get in the clear for a people train or when you are short time under the hours of service. There are also other reasons that power fails and we will also examine them as well. And again, they too, tend to be at exactly the wrong moment.

We’ll start out with motive power failures. In general, motive power failures are a bad thing. They result in reduced train speed which can undermine meets already arranged, delay that train from its intended schedule and delay other trains as well. As I have mentioned in the past, this is one of the big three that Train Dispatchers don’t want to hear when you call them. Motive power failures are bad, they are even worse when you only have one unit in your consist.

In my days at the Wisconsin Central we used to operate trains 218 and 219, the Green Bay-Chicago intermodal trains between Fond du Lac and Chicago with just one unit, normally an SD45; power was changed at Fond du Lac. This train usually had around 30-40 manifest freight and some intermodal business. The single SD45 could usually handle this tonnage with one unit albeit a slower run, but could indeed handle it. However, should this unit fail, you were screwed. On two different occasions I had serious motive power issues on these trains that brought us to an unscheduled stop.

The first one occurred one winter evening when we were heading to Chicago on 218. In between Rugby and Sussex, WI we lost our unit. No locomotive, no motion. While we had momentum, we would lose it quickly on any ascending grades. We also lost our ability to produce air. The air compressor does not operate which means you lose the ability to charge and maintain brake pipe pressure. When you cannot maintain the brake pipe pressure, the air will slowly begin to drop on its own. When it falls below a certain point, the brakes will begin to apply throughout the train on their own.

Now as it would happen we were still climbing the grade out of Rugby Junction. Without warning our single unit suddenly died. In those days on the WC, losing a unit was by no means uncommon. So I head back to assess the problem and attempted to restart it. I hit the switch and nothing but a click; dead batteries. Just like a car, there isn’t much of a way around dead batteries. There are only two ways on the line of road to start a locomotive. Bump starting, like when you push a car with stick shift is not one of them. What you need is either another locomotive or a welder. Well possibly three ways; a generator with enough amperage output to provide enough juice to crank a locomotive. Most tow trucks or wreckers do not carry such a generator though. And even then, that wrecker would have to be able to reach you first. We had none of the above available to us where we had stopped. We are officially dead on the rail.

So the call went out to the Dispatcher to report our dilemma.

“Send out the coroner to pronounce death.”

He was not pleased with the report of our situation. We were on single track railroad. Nobody was going to get around us. We were told to stand by. I think the term “stand by” is second only to “They want” as the phrase that pays for use on the railroad. And again, we opted to sit as opposed to stand by.

When the prime mover of a locomotive fails, the main generator also stops. When this occurs, no electrical power is generated. While the batteries will operate some functions, the cab heaters are not part of that special list. Did I mention that it was a very cold winter night?

So there we are sitting by waiting for “they” to make a decision on how to deal with our plight. Locomotive cabs are also not well insulated. Cold weather, a steel box with little insulation, no heaters, get the picture? The prime mover generates a great deal of heat while it is running. There is still a great deal of heat in that engine room even after it dies as the block itself stays hot and them warm for a while. So my Conductor and I took turns standing in the engine room to keep from freezing while awaiting the cavalry.

After waiting for over two hours help arrived in the form of the Waukesha Switcher. They coupled onto our engine and dragged us to their namesake hometown. There we met train 43 and swapped our dead engine for one of their live ones and then went about the rest of our journey.

The next episode was on 219 coming back west. We were still on the Chicago Terminal just exiting the CSX’s Altenheim Sub and entering the WC trackage at Madison Street in Forest Park. We only had around twenty-seven cars and were just beginning our climb of Mt Burkhardt, the name we had dubbed the newly increased grade over the CNW. The grade was pretty significant with a very short approach to it from the switch where the double track ended. The switch was pretty much always wrong when you were heading west so you had to stop and line it for your move, then start your train and tackle the grade.

We did just that and with our short train with more empties than loads, the pull shouldn’t have been a significant obstacle. This night though, it was. Before we were even halfway between the switch and the bridge the train slowed to a stop. It was as if I had set the brakes. I observed the amp gauge was well below the amperage it should have been showing for the speed we were moving with the throttle in run 8. We had a serious electrical problem, possibly a load regulator issue. The locomotive, while the prime mover was operating properly, was not producing enough amperage to the traction motors. As a result we simply could not pull what little train we had up this grade. Once again we were dead on the rail. At least we still had heat though as the engine was still running anyway.

This evening they had a transfer job available and they made the short trip from Schiller Park to couple onto us and drag us in.

In my days at the CCP there was no lacking of junk power. But oddly enough, this one isn’t a story about our power failing, it is about somebody else’s power failing and us coming to the rescue. We were operating on the Joliet District (former GM&O) coming back from Plaines, the location of a Commonwealth Edison power plant where we had just delivered a coal train. We were following a train of the then, brand new railroad known as the Chicago, Missouri & Western. The CMNW (not a typo but their initials, really) was only about a week or two old at this point in time and did not have all their motive power on the property yet. So they were leasing some power from the ICG.

On this particular night the train of the “Can’t Make it and Never Will” as it soon became known, contacted the ICG Dispatcher to inform him their engine had dumped all of its cooling water and died north of Lockport and as a result they were dead on the rail. We were coming up behind them and the Dispatcher asked if we could couple onto the tail end of their train and perhaps shove them up to the siding at Lambert. Being that the CMNW train was right in our way, this was pretty much a no-brainer. Of course we would shove them out of our way, and we did.

In my days at the IHB, I was no stranger to motive power failures. One evening in the fall, we were coming back from South Chicago via Conrail’s River Branch. We had the 8783, an unrebuilt NW2 that had just been reactivated from storage that day. It was making its first run since being placed back into service and I was the fortunate one (sic) to get to operate it. We were heading back to Michigan Avenue with our train to tie up. It looked like we were going to have a good evening and tie up without making any overtime. As luck would have it we would discover we had none this particular evening. The railroad gods had other plans.

The 8783 started to run badly. If it was a car I would have said it needed a tune up. It began sputtering and running roughly, then died. And it died quickly, almost as if it seized up. We rolled to a stop and I went back to investigate. No safety devices had tripped so I looked the prime mover over to observe if there was any apparent damage, such as if a piston had been pushed through the block. No damage visible, so I attempted to restart the unit. The starter let out a loud whine as if it was trying to work but could not turn anything. Not good. I waited a few moments and tried it again and heard that same whine but could not coax any action. So we first contact the IHB Yardmaster at Michigan Avenue to let him know and as per standard operating procedure on every railroad everywhere, we were told to stand by. I believe that if the term stand by were ever stricken from the English language, the rail industry would have to shut down. Then I called the Conrail Yardmaster at Colehour Yard (he controlled the River Branch) to inform him of our misfortune.

Our dead like condition was a serious problem for Conrail. The bottle trains use this line numerous times per day and at this moment we were right in their way. Colehour informed us that the bottle train was not in the picture for a little while yet. Now in this situation, railroad time is inverted. As I’ve explained in the past a few minutes can mean 30 to 45 minutes. When you are hoping for more time, a little while in railroad time can truly mean as little as possible. With this information we told the Michigan Avenue Yardmaster the news and suggested that he expedite assistance. We sat for almost two hours before assistance arrived to drag us in. And oh yes, we made lots of overtime as a result.

The next few episodes were preventable and I’ll clearly demonstrate the reasons why.

Way back in the mid-70’s before I began my railroad career, I palled around with a guy who seemed to always be a little short on cash. We both had marginal jobs that didn’t pay particularly well. This guy had running on empty down to a science. He knew exactly how far he could run his car with the gas gauge on E. He knew based exactly upon where the needle was pointing to at which part of the E, how far he could go before running out. He knew his car like the back of his hand. More than once, actually, more times than I can remember we pulled into a gas station literally on the fumes to get some fuel.

Now like my buddy, some railroad officials seem to believe they know how far a locomotive can operate when the gauge is on E. Of course I should explain locomotive fuel gauges don’t have fuel gauges like automobiles and trucks. They use sight glasses and gauges that show in gallons or liters (in Canada it would be litres), how much fuel is contained in the tank. Some of them have electric or electronic gauges that also measure in gallons or liters, how much fuel is left in the tank. There is no E. Yet when we report being extremely low on fuel, some managers tend to believe we can go much further and order us to soldier on. It’s that old belief that E means enough. And then when we run out of fuel, they act genuinely amazed or get upset like we pulled a fast one on them. They think they know these locomotives like we Engineers do.

So let’s take a look at what happens when you run out of gas on the high iron.

One afternoon at the IHB, I took charge of my motive power that was out in the yard at Blue Island. On the Harbor they had a system whenever locomotives were fueled; the mechanical department would place a letter F surrounded by a circle on the daily inspection card whenever they fueled a locomotive on that date. This gave the Engineers an “at a glance” look to know exactly when the locomotive was last fueled when taking charge of it.

On the day in particular, I noticed the locomotive I was taking charge of, an SW1500 with a slug had not been fueled in over three days. I reported this to the East Yardmaster who then checked to see if what I was reporting was correct. The Harbor had a program in their computer system that kept track of locomotive fueling. It showed the time and date each locomotive was last fueled and projected how many hours of time were left until each locomotive on their most recent fueling before they would run out. The Yardmaster checked and according to the program, this locomotive had sufficient fuel as it was showing being fueled within the last two days. He told me he even double checked with the foreman at the ready track who reassured him that my engine indeed had plenty of fuel. SW1500s could generally operate at least 72 hours to the next refueling. It seems that somebody failed to make the notation on the daily inspection card. I was informed there was plenty of fuel therefore, we were good to go. And so we went.

We worked around the yard for a couple of hours, took a coffee break then gathered up our train and headed off to the UP at Yard Center to deliver to them. As I approached Indiana Avenue the engine began to run very rough and then started starving for fuel. By the time I crossed the road things got worse as the engine really began to struggle and finally died. We came to a stop and there we were, dead on the rail and what was worse, right on a very busy road crossing. I was a very short distance past the crossing and quite visible to the motorists all stopped waiting for us. We were in a bad way in more ways than one.

I positively ascertained we were out of fuel by heading out and banging on the fuel tank with a rock. It made that very distinctive hollow sound one gets when banging on an empty tank. I then notified the East Yardmaster of our plight. Of course the mandatory response was “Are you sure?” I answered him with “Oh ya, I’ve been out of fuel before and it was just like this.” I also informed him that we had Indiana Avenue blocked and that we really needed to get pulled back ASAP before the motorists began shooting at us.

Upon further review, they discovered the engine had not been fueled. No kidding. It seems that somehow, it was put into the computer that this unit had been fueled but they discovered no fuel ticket for it. That means it never got fueled. Somehow it was assumed to have been fueled, and we know what happens when you assume.

“Running on empty; running dry, running on empty.”

As it would happen, another Engineer had virtually the exact same situation occur with the very same set of power several weeks earlier. And like my case, he too was instructed the power was fueled and again, it wasn’t but was showing in the computer that it was. I hate when that happens.

Another situation on the Harbor was pretty much the same. I was told the engine had been fueled after I reported that it wasn’t. This one occurred at the Lakefront Yard. In this case we didn’t have any road crossings blocked, just the west end of the yard. At the Gibson end of the railroad they used to a fuel truck to fuel locomotives at the outlying yards. As it would happen, the fuel truck had trouble and didn’t make it to the Lakefront that evening and my engine never got fueled. And somehow, the Yardmaster was not informed of the situation. He didn’t actually check to see the engine had been fueled, he assumed; once again, that ‘A” word. This was the night the fuel truck was scheduled to make its rounds. It didn’t, he didn’t know and you know the rest.

One afternoon at CN I also ran out of fuel with a trio of switchers. We were taxied up to Kensington to recrew the recycle job that had gone dead on the hours of service. When I took charge of the power I noticed very little fuel in the sight glasses of all three units. I reported this to the Markham General and was instructed to come on down anyway. We had already been instructed to stop and pick up the delivery from CSX in our travels. I explained our low fuel dilemma again but we were instructed to do what we were told. Never mind we are low on gas. So we complied with the instructions. With the pick up and air test completed we then began to make the final leg of our run to Markham. I barely started to move and then just as quickly, couldn’t move. I made several attempts to break the train loose to no avail. I noticed when the engines were revving up that the middle unit was not smoking. This could only mean two things; the unit is dead or not loading amperage. Considering our fuel situation I was betting on the former as opposed to the latter.

Our SW14 switchers have what I consider a serious omission, no alarm bell when the engine dies. Why, I don’t know; I didn’t design these things when they began remanufacturing them in the 70’s. The only way to tell they are not running when they are operating as a trailing unit is to observe the lack of smoke coming from their exhaust stacks and noticeably diminished performance from the power as you are operating it.

While on the second unit assessing the situation (it was indeed, dead), I heard the very rear unit starting to run bad, like it was running out of fuel. It died moments later. We had 90 something cars with most of the train sitting on an ascending grade. There was no way we were going to pull this with a single switcher. I reported the situation to Markham. As luck would have it, there was some power tied up at Highlawn, about three quarters of a mile from where we were stopped. So we were instructed to cut off our engines and run down with the one still working and grab that power, marry it all up, head back to our train and bring it all in. We did as instructed and finally made it back home. And we all lived happily ever after. Happily aside from the huge delay we took that made that “ever after” part come later as opposed to sooner.

The last two episodes go way back to my days at the MoPac. We used to operate a pair of trains that were the run-through interchange variety with the Southern at Mt Vernon, IL. Their symbols were JCZ and CJZ on the MoPac and 231 and 232 on the Southern. 231 came off the Southern and onto the MoPac where it became JCZ. Motive power was oftentimes all Southern power, other times as mix and match of MoPac and Southern power and still other times all MoPac. Whenever it was all Southern power, it seemed as though there was some kind of contest to see how far it could run without getting refueled on MoPac property.

The plan was supposed to be the power would either be serviced at Yard Center Diesel in Dolton, IL (south suburban Chicago) or at Salem, IL, two hundred fifty miles south of Chicago. We had a main line fueling station at Salem and the power could be fueled and inspected there. If the train was running behind its schedule, the power was supposed to be serviced at Salem on the southbound run of CJZ before it was handed back off to the Southern. The power was supposed to be serviced at Yard Center after its northbound run if time allowed. There were times CJZ was operated out of Chicago with MoPac power if JCZ was very late and the two trains would swap power wherever they met along the way. Here was one place problems would plant themselves on board and ride along unnoticed.

For whatever reason, there were instances when power was swapped out on the road, the Southern power somehow didn’t get serviced at Salem on the way south. More than once, the power ran out of fuel before returning to Southern rails. In other instances it ran out on Southern rails.

In one particular instance when I was hostling in 1979, I got blamed for CJZ running out of fuel. The power had come in on JCZ (all Southern power this day) and I brought it up to the fuel tracks for fueling. The shift foreman informed us that the power was not to be fueled as there was no time. They took enough time to check for supplies and add what was needed, but couldn’t take time to fuel it. The fifteen or twenty minutes it would have taken to shoot 2500 or so gallons into each tank would not have been a terrible time waster. (The Yard Center fueling station could fuel up to four locomotives on a track at one time, so fueling three SD40 series locomotives would not have been a problem or terribly time consuming). The power was supplied and I ran it around the wye and left it for the outbound crew. They took charge of the power and away they went. One by one the three units in this consist ran out of fuel and died along the way. They were all dead before the train even reached Salem. Nobody was happy; nobody. And someone needed to be blamed; someone.

Who better to blame than the last person at the roundhouse to be aboard the power. The next day I was called into the General Diesel Foreman’s office and asked to explain myself and how I set out this power without checking to ascertain that it had been fueled. Apparently the powers that be had developed one of their legendary cases of selective amnesia. Nobody seemed to be able to recall anything about specifically instructing the shift foreman and me not to fuel the power. As it would happen though, both the shift foreman and I clearly recalled the General Diesel Foreman specifically instructing us not to fuel the power. Now the General would not have made this decision on his own, he would have received such instructions from operations control (OpCon). And as it would happen, nobody at OpCon could recall such a conversation with this General Foreman. I would presume that their phones would have been recorded and captured that conversation. Presumed, there I went thinking again.

“What we have here is a failure to communicate.”

When all was said and done, the local powers at Yard Center accepted the fact that we (being the laborer on the fuel pad, my helper and I) were specifically instructed not to fuel the power when it was brought to the fuel tracks.

The last situation almost involved me. It also occurred in my hostling days. I was relieved this day at 11pm and had not set out the power involved. It was not ready to go before turnover time. My relief handled the move. He was told by the shift foreman that the power had been fueled and was already to go. This guy made the move as instructed, the outbound Engineer took charge and off they went. They ran out of fuel before reaching Villa Grove, the first crew change point. Of course there was hell to pay over this. Once again, someone had to be to blame. And that someone had to be the hostler. Never mind he was told the power was fueled and already to go.

As it would happen, the laborer that was supposed to fuel the power made the attempt and almost fueled them. He connected the hoses to the fuel fillers on the locomotives, inserted a fuel ticket in the meter/totalizer at the fuel station, but never turned the power on to start the pumps. The laborer was also relieved at 11 and turned it over to his relief. This was a case of nobody checking behind nobody. The relief laborer pulled the hoses off the fuel fillers on the locomotive fuel tanks, stamped the ticket and turned it into the shift foreman. The foreman didn’t check the ticket, just set it into a tray on his desk. They were supposed to get totals off the ticket and show the engines had been fueled in his book. He didn’t perform this task right away as it was right after turnover and he was handling several other tasks that seemed to be of a higher priority than the fuel ticket and book.

As you can clearly see, almost only counts in tiddlywinks, horseshoes and grenade fights.

It was only after the power ran out of fuel that the ticket was checked and it was learned the power had never actually been fueled. The ticket the laborer presented to the foreman read all zeros for total fuel delivered to the locomotives.

If it wasn’t for the fact a train was dead on the rail, out of fuel, blocking the single track main and tying up the railroad, one could call this a true comedy of errors. Who am I kidding; it was indeed a comedy of errors. And with all the nobodies checking up behind nobody could it still be correct that nobody does it better?

And so it goes.

Tuch

Hot Times on the High Iron and the HTOTHI initials, ©2005 by JD Santucci.