The Mormor Stories: Living Near Trains

In the thick redwood groves of early 20th century Humboldt County, California, where the car was not yet king and hitching up the team of horses was a big job, walking the railroad tracks was probably the best way to get from one place to another.  It was certainly a direct route in land carved up by rivers and overgrown by ferns and redwood seedlings.  Consequently, many of my grandmother's childhood stories involved train tracks, trains and sometimes the people who operated them.  Here are four of these stories, just as she wrote them, which was just the way she told these stories to her grandchildren at bedtime.


(Original photo stolen from oohkumar on Flickr)

Several odd and funny incidents happened to me as I walked the railroad track from the ranch to the school at South Fork.

Rarely did I take the walk alone, but one time I had gone to the store at Dyerville for mail and snuff for Dad, so the other students had gone ahead.  The gentle rain turned into a thunderstorm that soon seemed right above me.  I got off the railroad track as soon as I could (safer) and took refuge in a small subway below the track.  There the county road ran beneath the railroad as did a small creek, which was separated from the roadbed by a four-foot high cement wall.  I leaned against the wall as there was a place above where not quite so much rain could come pelting down.  In a moment the lightning struck very near, and its concussion and possibly the steel in the cement combined to knock me flat on my face into the muddy roadbed.  You can be sure that I lost no time getting out of there in spite of the rain.  When I told my folks what had happened they warned me never to seek shelter there as I could have easily been killed.


(Photo stolen from The Big Jiggety on Flickr)

Another time when I was alone I saw a hobo walking toward me but at quite some distance away.  I got the strongest hunch that I'd better get off the track and out of there, so over the bank I slid and on down to the river bar.  It was wide and open but I lost no time in crossing it and getting to the trees nearby.  I decided not to follow the old road that wound through the pepperwoods but to cut across the fields as the shortest way home.  I also figured if the hobo had followed me he would think I'd taken the road.  I arrived home safely, out of breath, and really unable to explain my flight.  I can tell you, though, that that guy would have had no luck trying to catch me.


(Photo stolen from these guys)

When we moved to Camp Grant the Northwestern Pacific Railroad tracks were being built through our land.  The supervisors and foremen ate lunch at our place so we got to know them all quite well.  Often they'd give me a ride to school whether by engine, caboose, flat car, handcar or speeder.

One time I was riding on a noisy speeder having been given a ride by one of the supervisors.  All of a sudden there was a loud whistle blast right behind us.  Engineer St. Louis had somehow sneaked his engine up real close without our hearing it.  The supervisor threw the speeder off the track while I lost no time sliding down the bank.  Then we saw St. Louis laughing his head off.  Ever after you know who kept a sharp eye to the rear.  I'll never understand how such a huge thing could be moved so close so quietly.


(Photo stolen from these guys)

St. Louis obviously enjoyed his little jokes because he also had some fun at my cousin Bill's expense.  The track had very few places wide enough to allow one to get off the railroad and be a safe distance from a passing train.  There was one small canyon where Bill, Carl (Bill's brother) and I were standing when St. Louis covered us all with steam shot out from the engine.  Bill began to scream and swear, all the while shaking his little boy fist at St. Louis.  Just Bill's fist stuck up out of the steam, which evidently amused the engineer no end.  Ever after it was a game with him to try to catch Bill in a narrow spot and cover him with steam.


(Original photos stolen from this guy and this guy)

Comments

[Fawn]

Thank you so much for sharing these stories. What a treasure to have them passed on to you!

[MommyTime]

I love these stories. I wish I had more like this to share. I have my great-grandmother's diary from the year the family moved from Michigan to Florida -- which I find fascinating, but it's not as colorful and incident filled as the stories you have.

[david]

Your ending reminded me of the great novel "Sometimes a Great Notion" by Ken Keasy.
The geography of your posts are similar as well. Have you read it? It is probably in my top 5 favorites novels. I am a big Keasy fan from Cuckoo's nest of course, but Sometimes a great notion is one of his best. It was also a movie called "never give an inch with Peter Fonda I think.
Amazing story as always. I am a fan indeed

[david]

Your ending reminded me of the great novel "Sometimes a Great Notion" by Ken Keasy.
The geography of your posts are similar as well. Have you read it? It is probably in my top 5 favorites novels. I am a big Keasy fan from Cuckoo's nest of course, but Sometimes a great notion is one of his best. It was also a movie called "never give an inch with Peter Fonda I think.
Amazing story as always. I am a fan indeed

[Grandma J]

Wow, I love old stories. My grandmother would tell me stories about her childhood in Ireland. As she got older the stories got more detailed...and would end abruptly when my grand father would shout.....That's enough, Mum!

[Chesapeake Bay Woman]

What great stories from such a different time. You're so fortunate to have these to share.