15 June 2010, 12:27 pm
Overall the radio is an important tool and every bit as revolutionary as was the automatic air brake. Federal statutes abound all over rail operations, and radio communications is an area regulated by yet another Federal agency in the form of the FCC. So there are strict requirements for the use of the radio. But for many of us who operated on the SP in the time before the “other” 9/11 of 1996, the radio was also the source of… entertainment. By example, in 1985, on the SP’s Oregon Division, Tarzan showed up. Or rather, sounded off. He traveled with a conductor in the form of a cassette tape in a cassette player. Hold the handset up to the speaker, cue the mike and hit the play button and Tarzan arrives. Since this was during an FCC crackdown, there was a Trainmaster from Dunsmuir and a Road Foreman from Klamath Falls determined to find the prankster. It was driving them nuts. With some good ol’ detective work Tarzan’s days were numbered. Each time the call was heard, these guys would note the time and location. They collected enough data this way so that the times could be referenced to the “Federal Sheets” (An official record of crew members for all trains) and/or work reports and one by one eliminate possible culprits. It boiled down to two. One of which was a guy named Doyle Lancaster. So, they tailed his train one day. Sure enough, Tarzan was marked up. Stopped at a siding, they boarded the caboose and tore it apart looking for the tape player. Doyle even insisted they look in his grip. Nada. Zip. Zero. However, if they had looked at his key chain they might have noticed a key to the paper towel dispenser, which had become Tarzan’s temporary refuge. Doyle garnered credit for a “three vein-er.” That’s when both veins in the neck and one on the forehead are seen to pulse rapidly and under great pressure on a company officer. So ultimately, the Trainmaster called Doyle’s house, knowing he was out of town, and chatted with the little lady, Donna. He asked her, “Hey. Does Doyle ever play that Tarzan tape at home?” Came the reply, “Oh ,yes! And it drives me crazy. He’s like a little kid with that darned thing.” With that bit of info, Tarzan immediately slipped back into obscurity and Doyle remained employed. The eastward departure yard in Roseville, called 211, was right next to a surfaced, public road. There was an idiot TM there named Hampton. This guy drove 100 mph everywhere he went and Roseville was a yard six miles long. He was a real ‘hands on’ guy. So, once his whereabouts were known, someone would call and tell him he was needed at the 211 shanty. He’d go ripping by on the road. Then a guy at Antelope, six miles south, would guess about when he’d be arriving the east end. “SA-22. Forget that call at the east end. We need you at Antelope.” Then we’d watch this guy go ripping past the other direction. This yard was a half mile in width as well, so we ping-ponged this idiot all over the place. When he was on company property, you’d see the dust cloud draw nearer and nearer, mile by mile. Then there was non-scripted humor to be found in radio communications, usually in very weird circumstance. One such night I was on the third of trains running right on each other‘s block, headed south. We hear the first train report to the dispatcher that they had hit someone trying to commit suicide. The train in emergency they stopped, and the rear brakeman started forward from the caboose, leaving a small of stature conductor behind. Then it got unbelievable. “Conductor Bertolucci to engineer McGirr.” “Yeah?” “What was the guy you hit wearing?” “Looked like an army surplus jacket with some kind of tan shoulder bag.” “Well, he just walked by the caboose.” “BS! We put ‘im at least 50 feet off the right of way.” Pause. Pause a little more. “Hey Ron, Better get back here. This guy ain’t wrapped too tight.” At this point in time, this guy was actually running backwards into the rear coupler of the cab, going “Chug, chug, chug.” “Ron! This guy’s tryin’ to get in the cab. GET BACK HERE!” “Lock the doors!” Pause. Pause. “Only one will lock!. “There’s a brake club under the long cushion,” the cushion a tool box cover and a brake club looks like an over-sized, hard wood axe handle used for leverage when operating staff hand brakes. Pause. Pause. Pause. “Yeah. Well, that’s just great. We couldn’t kill him with a freight train and you want me to use a brake club on him…” Turns out the guy broke nearly every bone in or connected to his torso. He didn’t feel it then, because this guy had enough PCP in him to tranquilize an elephant. But I’m sure he felt it the next day. So my question is, if a rail or you use a two way radio for work, what are some of the more interesting or funny communiqués you have overheard? Too good to pick one. Let the voters decide, and thanks for the laughs!... Read More »
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