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Southern Railway Remembered

di James Leslie Hepler

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This firsthand account relates a life as an engineer on the Southern's Washington Division from 1943 to 1970. Anecdotes intelligently recall life on the Southern during the late steam and early diesel eras.
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Mr. Hepler was born in 1910 and worked for the C&O railroad as a gandydancer and section man on-and-off from 1926 to 1931. The on-and-off was a combination of being let go because he had lied about his age, and once he could pass for 18 because he was on extra board (extra board means you are part of the railroad but have to wait until you are called for work – if there is no work there is also no pay). He decided he had had enough of extra board so he went to work at the rayon plant in south Covington.

In 1943 he went to work for the Southern railroad as a hostler helper at the Alexandria roundhouse. He worked for the Southern Railroad from 1943 to 1970 in the capacity of roundhouse hostler, roundhouse clerk, fireman, engineer, and as watchman at the Fruit Growers Express Complex in Alexandria, Virginia (FGEX was a railroad refrigerator shipper jointly owned by the Southern Railroad and several other class I railroads).

The stories he has to offer are well told and his writing style is conversational. As would be expected many mirror the experiences of others who have worked on the railroad and, also as expected, many of the stories are unique and are his and his alone to tell.

I think this is an excellent first person account of railroad work and I would recommend it to anyone interested in stories of railroad life. (see Common Knowledge for examples of his writing style).

The book is profusely illustrated with contemporary pictures of people, places, and motive power.
(Text Length - 108 pages, Total Length - 108 pages. Approximately 42 pages are devoted to photographs). (Book Dimensions in inches (LxHxW) 8 ½ x 11 x 3/8) ( )
  alco261 | Jul 12, 2017 |
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At the Alexandria Station the main line tracks separated into freight train
tracks and passenger train tracks. The freight tracks, behind the northbound
passenger waiting room, went into Potomac Yard. One morning a southbound
train stopped right in front of the passenger sheds to wait for clearance.
From the Alexandria station past Duke Street was a long curve, and incoming
freight trains had a signal just before they got to the Duke Street Bridge.
Because of the curve, northbound engineers had to depend on their firemen to
let them know whether or not the signal was clear.

An RF&P freight was coming in, and when it got close to the curve the
engineer asked his fireman how the signal was. The fireman replied," I can't
see the signal for that caboose is blocking my view." The engineer threw the
brakes into emergency-too late! He rammed the Southern caboose and stood it
on end. The flagman saw him coming in time to get out of the way. He took
off down Duke Street. Someone stopped him and asked why he was in such a
hurry. He pointed back toward the bridge; the caboose was on fire, and
flames were going high above the bridge. Fortunately, the Southern conductor
had already started walking to the front of his train when the train struck
so no one was injured. There were some hard feelings however. The conductor
had bought a couple of hams in Monroe and left them on the caboose. By the
time he got back to what was left of the caboose, his hams were cooked well
done
We were traveling west one morning. It was New Year’s morning, I guess about 3:00 a.m. There was a grade crossing at a place called Thorofare. We were some distance past this crossing when the brakes went into emergency. We were on a straight stretch of track, and when we looked back, we could see the train crew’s lanterns. There seemed to be some sort of activity back at the rear of the train, so I walked back to see what had happened. I got back to the caboose in time to see the train crew and a man in dress clothes roll an automobile off the track and down the bank. A man, alone, was on his way home from a New Year’s Eve celebration and had struck the rear step on the caboose. The car was a total wreck, and so was the man’s clothing. He asked permission to ride with s to the next crossing which was near where he lived. The conductor said he could, so we all went to the engine. After we had gotten under way the conductor asked the still-almost-sober man the license number on his car. He couldn’t remember it. Then the conductor started worrying, because he couldn’t turn in a completed accident report. The more he thought about it, the more worried he got. After listening to him awhile our inebriated passenger said, ”You think you have something to worry about. What about me? That was my wife’s car.”
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This firsthand account relates a life as an engineer on the Southern's Washington Division from 1943 to 1970. Anecdotes intelligently recall life on the Southern during the late steam and early diesel eras.

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