Introduction- Bob Agne, George and Roy Inman, aka, "The Foaming Rivet Counters" went on the road for a long weekend of immersion in things train. Destination Chicago, other places in Illinois, and several stops in Wisconsin. There was what is called an "S-Fest" in Rockford, IL, which is a buy-sell-swap meet for model railroaders who like 3/16th to the inch miniature trains. Then Sunday was the "really big shew" including all scales, that modelers call the "Du Page show" because it is staged at the Du Page County Fair Grounds.
For the non-railfans, some definitions: Especially enthusiastic train watchers are called "foamers" as in a rabid dog. It is not a particularly flattering moniker. "Rivet counters" are model railroaders who are so particular about fidelity to the original (or prototype) that they are accused of counting the rivets on tenders and cars. That may be a wee bit of an exaggeration, but not by much.
It was my brother George who nicknamed our trio "The Foaming Rivet Counters." I like to think he was trying to, how you say, make the littllie jokie...
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"In Chicago at the end of the nineteenth century amid the smoke of industry and the clatter of trains there lived two men, both handsome, both blue-eyed, and both unusually adept at their chosen skills. Each embodied an element of the great dynamic that characterized the rush of America toward the twentieth century. One was an architect, the builder of many of America's most important structures, among them the Flatiron building in New York and Union Station in Washington, D.C. The other was a murderer..."
So begins Eric Larson's page-turning tome Devil in the White City.
The FRC's were happily riding on the Metra from Crystal Lake to Chicago, and at one of the stops, a 30-something young woman got on and sat next to me after a couple of seconds of obvious deliberation. Two seats away was a man whose limbs and torso were in almost constant motion. I guess she thought she would rather chance sitting next to me rather than him.
She took her seat, the "Doors are now closing!' recording sounded off, and she whipped out a book and started to read. The book wa
s Devil in the White City.
s Devil in the White City. I was in the middle of studying the faces of others on the train, thinking of grab shot photo possibilities. She would occasionally glance up at me and give a faint smile. At least I thought it was a faint smile. In true photojournalistic manner, I smiled wanly back and immediately glanced away. If you want to steal someone's picture, you try to avoid eye contact.
At length she closed the book and glanced up yet again. This time I ventured a vocal response:
"I see you are reading Devil in the White City. I thought it was quite good."
"Yeah!" she snapped back, and with that swiveled around to more nearly face the still-in-motion man sitting two seats away, apparently changing her mind about who was the least offensive.
I was a bit taken aback. I suppose she thought I was trying to get fresh (as the old folks used to say).Heck, I haven't gotten fresh in the last 40 years. Apparently I had misunderstood her reactions. Then I noticed that she was one of those people with a permanently, slightly upcurled-at-the-edges mouth, which gave her the appearance of bearing a slight smile all the time. Ah ha!
Oh well, every communication can't be perfect.
Then a bunch of rather loud but genial-sounding 20-somethings spilled into our coach, snarfing up every available seat. They all wore matching T-shirts: "Rock the Burbs 09 Train Crawl."
As one of them explained to me, a group of 60 had gotten together for a day of train riding and drinking. They made arrangements with bars and taverns at various stops along the Metra route. By the time the group got on with us they were well lubricated indeed.
I had heard of pub and bar crawls, and even shot a few, but never saw such a thing orgrganized around a train ride; but as a FRC, I could sure appreciate their enthusiasm. According to my informant, group bar hopping via the rails is a common occurance in ChicagoLand.
Meanwhile, the miffed, semi-smiler had settled into concentrating on manipulating her Blackberry; the man in motion was still in motion.
I have seen people in his condition before, and I imagine it was Turret's Syndrome, a neurological disorder that causes facial ticks at the mild end, spontaneous profanity in some cases, and nearly constant motion in others, as with this fellow.
As I watched him struggle with simple tasks like reaching into his pocket for his ticket to show to the conductor or taking a drink of bottled water, the sting of my rebuff from the young lady vanished.
Here was this young man, bravely wrestling with a problem I could not even completely comprehend, and yet he was pressing ahead, going out on his own, no doubt facing at least sideways glances from passers-by, stares from inquisitive children, and at worst, downright ridicule. My minuscule discomfort paled in comparison. And I thought "Bravo for you my friend, and keep up the good work."
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Chicago at night is both beautiful and foreboding. It was like walking on the set of the "Dark Night." Sure makes for some interesting photo possibilities though...
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The Photos:
The man in motion and the semi-smiler.
A wig wag railroad signal in Black Earth, WI. Rail fans will line up and wait for hours just to watch one of these nearly-extinct pieces of safety equipment operate when a train passes.
At Rochelle, IL, the city has built a train watching platform for rail fans (background), allowing them to wait and watch as trains of the Union Pacific and the BNSF traverse the hub crossing. In fact, the city is nicknamed "The hub city."
This commercial pumpkin patch in Wisconsin really knows how to advertise its wares. That was not an inflatable jack-o-lantern. I don't know what it was made from, but it sure must have been a challenge to hoist it to the top of the silo.
I thought this was a tender moment...
Man reading the sports page.
Three of the train crawl participants.
This couple pooled their skills to work a cross word puzzle.
Two-thirds of the Foaming Rivet Counters, brother George in the foreground, "adopted" brother Bob behind.
Two teens on a adventure to the city.
Chicago's Union Station is not nearly as big as Union Station Kansas City, but it is a heck of lot busier. More than 800 trains a day roll in and out, carrying commuters to and from the twelve million population metro Chicago area. Amtrak also uses Chicago Union Station.
Ah, a romantic dusk cruise of the Chicago River on one of the Chicago by water tours.
The clamshell bridges have been in more movies than I can count.
If you saw "Ghostbusters" you saw this building.
Chicago Picasso in Daley Plaza. If you saw the classic "Blues Brothers" film you saw this.
The Federal Reserve Bank in Chicago is ominous, especially at dusk.
Just like a tourista: looking up and photographing tall buildings, knife-like shafts of sunlight slanting through the skyscrapers.
One of the clamshell bridges in daylight. Hope you can read the "Chicago Times" on the building in the background. I wondered as I shot this how the newspaper was doing...
Piegons. There were lots and lots of piegons.
Was it really the best coffee on the interstate?
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