The "You eat in your room? Why?" thread, which includes a number of entertaining responses, got me to thinking about a new thread. All train riders have intriguing stories about people they have met during their travels and many have already been recounted throughout the entire forum in scattershot fashion. Let's see what new ones we can post here. Not sure if this should be in a subforum other than Amtrak, as responses about any rail system would be welcome.
Most interesting encounter(s) on a train
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I, interestingly, encountered the best friend I ever met - in my room on board. He was articulate, positively brilliant, had a great sense of humor, very courteous, mature, well educated and well read, and had a scientific mind. We had a great conversation that lasted most of the trip before I finally realized he was the guy in the mirror. 
One of my more interesting dining car encounters was with a "roadie" for Rock and Roll Concerts. He told me his favorite artist was Diana Ross because she made extra efforts to check on the people working her shows. He reported that one time he was sick and she personally checked on him. And in another experience she danced with him and all of the other people at a party. Since I am a Diana Ross fan this was kind of fun.
On the Canadian I had a fun experience with another rail fan. We were both in the rail fan seats at the front of the dome in the Park Car. We were both adults. But the child in us came out when we started calling the signals to each other as we rolled down the the track. "Green over Red, Highball." "Red over Green diverging approach". We did this for at least an hour.
On the Canadian I had a fun experience with another rail fan. We were both in the rail fan seats at the front of the dome in the Park Car. We were both adults. But the child in us came out when we started calling the signals to each other as we rolled down the the track. "Green over Red, Highball." "Red over Green diverging approach". We did this for at least an hour.
That is good to hear about Diana Ross. I too, am a fan, but always had the impression she was a major diva. Most performers probably are, to differing degrees, but this puts a human spin for her.
I read her book and most African American women characterize her as a diva. She’s had her moments. But I heard her music when I was in high school and for whatever reason had a crush on her. Lol.
I'm sitting in my seat, minding my own business, while the train is changing engines in Washington. Two guys get on whose appearance screams "detectives from Central Casting." Indeed, they flash their badges at me, "Metropolitan Police" (that's what the DC cops call themselves), then pointing up to a bag in the overhead rack, "Is that bag yours?" I look, and it wasn't my bag he was pointing at. "No," I say.
Then they said, "Have a nice day," and left. They didn't take the bag, and it rode down with us all the way into Virginia. Not sure what happened to it, it was still there when I got off. Let's just say, I was a bit concerned during the rest of the trip, hoping the bag was just full of illegal drugs and not something more dangerous. I can only guess that somebody in law enforcement somewhere was interested in seeing who was going to pick up the bag.
Then they said, "Have a nice day," and left. They didn't take the bag, and it rode down with us all the way into Virginia. Not sure what happened to it, it was still there when I got off. Let's just say, I was a bit concerned during the rest of the trip, hoping the bag was just full of illegal drugs and not something more dangerous. I can only guess that somebody in law enforcement somewhere was interested in seeing who was going to pick up the bag.
Dakota 400
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While traveling on the Eastbound Empire Builder from Seattle, a North Dakota oil field worker was returning to work after his vacation. We had dinner together and we talked about his job, its pluses and minuses. The major plus was his paycheck. But, there were lots of minuses: long work days, dirty and sometimes dangerous work, being away from his home and family for a period of time, and when it came time for his vacation, his travel time home and back to work came out of his vacation time, thereby reducing the time.
His wife was studying to earn her Bachelor's in Nursing degree and his nice salary was helping to pay for her studies. I got the distinct impression that when that happened, he would give up his oil field job for something closer to where they lived.
I received an education in what it takes to be one of those who work in those oil fields. It's a job I would not want to have.
His wife was studying to earn her Bachelor's in Nursing degree and his nice salary was helping to pay for her studies. I got the distinct impression that when that happened, he would give up his oil field job for something closer to where they lived.
I received an education in what it takes to be one of those who work in those oil fields. It's a job I would not want to have.
Back in June of 2004, while riding east on the CZ, one of our lunch companions was Lou (we never learned his last name) who was a train buff traveling on an Amtrak rail pass. So far, he'd gone from his home in South Carolina to Los Angeles via New Orleans. From L.A, he had gone north up to Vancouver and had then taken an eastbound Canadian passenger train across Canada. He then went west on the Empire Builder and was now coming east again on the Zephyr. He told us that he would do occasional layovers between trains to help break up his trip. (He would usually stay in the same hotels used by the Amtrak train crews.)
Lou, if you’re reading this, perhaps you can give us the full particulars of your various rail travels on that one pass back in 2004!
Eric & Pat
Lou, if you’re reading this, perhaps you can give us the full particulars of your various rail travels on that one pass back in 2004!
Eric & Pat
DELAYED TRIP REPORT - I've been meaning to write up this trip report and this thread seems to be an appropriate place for it.
The whole trip occurred on one day, Saturday, 24 May 1969. I was staying with my brother in Manhattan while I was on leave before reporting back to the Army at Fort Dix, there to be shipped to an unknown destination and assignment in Germany. I had made a side trip to visit the Nation's Capital and was returning to New York City.
Twenty or so minutes before 4:00 p.m. I was in line in Washington Union Station for the Afternoon Congressional, still the premier train of the failing Penn Central to New York City. The portion of the trip from Washington to Philadelphia, 135.2 miles, was scheduled in 126 minutes with only two intermediate stops. On the busy Philly to Penn Station segment, 89 minutes were allowed to cover 91.4 miles and three stops.
Somehow I got to discussing this with the man standing in front of me. He asked me about my visit to some of the landmarks and a purported major league baseball game in the grim confines of RFK Stadium (Washington Senators vs. Kansas City Athletics). Ahead of him his wife was carrying on a conversation with a young woman who they were seeing off. I was in uniform so that I could travel on the discounted Furlough Fare. A question dawned on me.
"Should I be addressing you as "sir"?" It turned out that I should -- he was an Air Force colonel. In the typical mellow Air Force style he was unconcerned about that. In eight months in the Army I had spoken with a colonel once, when we were seated next to each other on a short flight. In my eventual assignments I spoke with all sorts of brass but as an unassigned private who had already seen some office politics I was a bit wary.
I learned from him that they were seeing off a Frenchwoman who was daughter of a family friend. She had flown from a visit with another military family in Texas and now was on her way to Middletown, New Jersey to stay with an Army colonel and his wife, more family friends. That meant changing trains in Newark. I was intrigued by foreign tourists, much rarer then than now.
I volunteered to make sure she was off the train with her suitcases -- promptly. Part of the way that this train was the fastest on the line was that they squeezed every minute out of the run that they could. He asked the two women -- I wouldn't have been surprised to be turned down -- and they agreed that it sounded like a good idea. Perhaps it was the Adjutant General Corps brass that I was wearing? Graduates of the Personnel Management school seemed safe?
At 4:00 p.m. we eased out of Union Station, slowed for the required brake test, and then the GG-1 did its thing and we were flying low by 1969 standards. On the way down I had been bitterly amused to see as many boxcars from Western railroads as I might have between Portland and Seattle. The charges for using a boxcar were rigged by the Interstate Commerce Commission to subsidize the crumbling Eastern lines. A boxcar of lumber might leave Oregon and never return.
In this direction I was not thinking of boxcars. I was learning that Isabel D. lived in the Loire Valley, of which I had heard. Her English was excellent. A good thing, as my French consisted of literary phrases and words that had migrated into English. She got into one of her suitcases and pulled out a photo album. I began to realize that Isabel D. was thoroughly organized for this trip, bringing pictures of family and landscapes to show her parents' friends.
I stopped her when she showed me a picture of her home. It looked like a chateau.
"That looks like a chateau!" I blurted.
"Of course, it is a chateau."
Somehow I managed to reframe the American question of "what does your father do?" It hit me that from what I had learned so far that was not the right way to put it.
"What is your father's position?" I queried.
"Oh, he's a marquis." He also had been an officer in the French Army and a few other things. When we got around to my father's position it was difficult to explain what a Country Circulation District Supervisor did in Oregon for the Seattle Times. Not that she did not catch on quickly when presented with the concept, but in her world newspapers had just appeared.
We were getting hungry and the Penn Central invited us to the Coach-Snack Bar. Well, alerted us. Rail magazines had already warned me. The full dining car service was gone. Cheese sandwiches on white bread were offered. Nothing -- nothing! -- would satisfy her. Only three years earlier I had enjoyed the pickled herring appetizer served in a silverplate cocktail dish with a trident seafood fork on the Great Northern Empire Builder. Now -- thanks to valuable U.S. Army training -- I would eat anything claimed to be edible.
Back in our seats she starved and the long days of travel were catching up with her. Tired lines showed on her face. I unwrapped the pre-prepared Penn Central sandwich and munched. And thought.
Newark Penn Station did not have a good reputation. I had never been in it but had the suspicion that the decaying Penn Central would not be spending money on Saturday night security. I could interrupt my return to New York City, assist with her luggage, see her off, and then catch a PATH train into the city.
This seemed reasonable to Isabel D. As best as I can recall we were on time into Newark at 7:20 p.m. Her connection was on an entity named the New York and Long Branch Railroad Company, jointly operated by Penn Central and the Central Railroad of New Jersey. The complex, overlapping managements had decreed that our French visitor was due to become their guest at 8:10 p.m. on the train to Middletown.
Then I got a better idea. (This is usually the part where a sound, effective plan is overrun.) I had never been to Middletown before, so could I escort her all the way to that stop? We checked the schedule. Her train was due to arrive there after the last returning train had departed. But if I stayed on the train to Red Bank I should get there at 9:23 p.m. I could catch a train to Penn Station that was due to depart Red Bank at 10:01 p.m. The northbound night trains scorned Middletown.
On the other hand -- if anything went wrong I would be walking around in my Dress Greens looking for a place to sleep in Red Bank. That had already happened to me with a Penn Central delay in Columbus, Ohio so I should have known better. Being 22½ years old I decided to take a chance.
Our train pulled in on time and we grabbed our bags and boarded. I paused for a moment and asked the conductor if he would make sure that Middletown was called in time as we were both new to the route. As I outlined what we were doing and her status I could see that he was interested. It did not occur to me that I was in a U.S. Army uniform and that it seemed to him as though it was some sort of official business. Now this was not the train to Bay Head Junction -- it was almost the Orient Express!
It was easy for Isabel D. to find one of the unoccupied decaying seats. In a few minutes the conductor came by to lift tickets. To my amazement and our guest's surprise he paused to ask if everything was okay, inviting us to enjoy the trip. This was in an era on the rails dominated by grouchy old men who had seen their life's work falling apart.
"What did you tell him back there?" she asked.
"That we were visitors and needed to be sure to be ready for Middletown," and I left out the part about her being French aristocracy.
That seemed to suit her. In a bit less than an hour her journey into the New Jersey night would come to a halt. She offered to give me her address in case I wanted to visit. I had to explain that I had no idea of where I would be stationed or whether I would be suddenly shipped off to Vietnam (which happened to others). I also was not sure that her parents would welcome an enlisted man as a house guest.
Out of Hazlett the conductor appeared at the end of the car and announced "Middletown next!" A couple of other passengers stirred. And then he came back to us.
"Middletown next, may I help you with your bags?" I was flabbergasted. Commuter train conductors in 1969 did not do that, I thought. We trooped down the aisle behind him, Isabel D. just carrying her purse. The conductor set down her suitcase and handed her down as she gracefully alighted. I set down her other bag.
The Army colonel, in civilian clothes, and his wife were at the other end of the platform. In the dim light they hurried up to us. I snapped a salute -- I was never very good at that -- and the conductor shouted "All aboard!" and gave the highball sign. I remember the colonel's puzzled face as I turned away to reboard.
A few minutes later I was grabbing a quick bite in Red Bank, a city that looked as though both sides of the tracks were the wrong side. And then I was on the Penn Station bound train.
###
The whole trip occurred on one day, Saturday, 24 May 1969. I was staying with my brother in Manhattan while I was on leave before reporting back to the Army at Fort Dix, there to be shipped to an unknown destination and assignment in Germany. I had made a side trip to visit the Nation's Capital and was returning to New York City.
Twenty or so minutes before 4:00 p.m. I was in line in Washington Union Station for the Afternoon Congressional, still the premier train of the failing Penn Central to New York City. The portion of the trip from Washington to Philadelphia, 135.2 miles, was scheduled in 126 minutes with only two intermediate stops. On the busy Philly to Penn Station segment, 89 minutes were allowed to cover 91.4 miles and three stops.
Somehow I got to discussing this with the man standing in front of me. He asked me about my visit to some of the landmarks and a purported major league baseball game in the grim confines of RFK Stadium (Washington Senators vs. Kansas City Athletics). Ahead of him his wife was carrying on a conversation with a young woman who they were seeing off. I was in uniform so that I could travel on the discounted Furlough Fare. A question dawned on me.
"Should I be addressing you as "sir"?" It turned out that I should -- he was an Air Force colonel. In the typical mellow Air Force style he was unconcerned about that. In eight months in the Army I had spoken with a colonel once, when we were seated next to each other on a short flight. In my eventual assignments I spoke with all sorts of brass but as an unassigned private who had already seen some office politics I was a bit wary.
I learned from him that they were seeing off a Frenchwoman who was daughter of a family friend. She had flown from a visit with another military family in Texas and now was on her way to Middletown, New Jersey to stay with an Army colonel and his wife, more family friends. That meant changing trains in Newark. I was intrigued by foreign tourists, much rarer then than now.
I volunteered to make sure she was off the train with her suitcases -- promptly. Part of the way that this train was the fastest on the line was that they squeezed every minute out of the run that they could. He asked the two women -- I wouldn't have been surprised to be turned down -- and they agreed that it sounded like a good idea. Perhaps it was the Adjutant General Corps brass that I was wearing? Graduates of the Personnel Management school seemed safe?
At 4:00 p.m. we eased out of Union Station, slowed for the required brake test, and then the GG-1 did its thing and we were flying low by 1969 standards. On the way down I had been bitterly amused to see as many boxcars from Western railroads as I might have between Portland and Seattle. The charges for using a boxcar were rigged by the Interstate Commerce Commission to subsidize the crumbling Eastern lines. A boxcar of lumber might leave Oregon and never return.
In this direction I was not thinking of boxcars. I was learning that Isabel D. lived in the Loire Valley, of which I had heard. Her English was excellent. A good thing, as my French consisted of literary phrases and words that had migrated into English. She got into one of her suitcases and pulled out a photo album. I began to realize that Isabel D. was thoroughly organized for this trip, bringing pictures of family and landscapes to show her parents' friends.
I stopped her when she showed me a picture of her home. It looked like a chateau.
"That looks like a chateau!" I blurted.
"Of course, it is a chateau."
Somehow I managed to reframe the American question of "what does your father do?" It hit me that from what I had learned so far that was not the right way to put it.
"What is your father's position?" I queried.
"Oh, he's a marquis." He also had been an officer in the French Army and a few other things. When we got around to my father's position it was difficult to explain what a Country Circulation District Supervisor did in Oregon for the Seattle Times. Not that she did not catch on quickly when presented with the concept, but in her world newspapers had just appeared.
We were getting hungry and the Penn Central invited us to the Coach-Snack Bar. Well, alerted us. Rail magazines had already warned me. The full dining car service was gone. Cheese sandwiches on white bread were offered. Nothing -- nothing! -- would satisfy her. Only three years earlier I had enjoyed the pickled herring appetizer served in a silverplate cocktail dish with a trident seafood fork on the Great Northern Empire Builder. Now -- thanks to valuable U.S. Army training -- I would eat anything claimed to be edible.
Back in our seats she starved and the long days of travel were catching up with her. Tired lines showed on her face. I unwrapped the pre-prepared Penn Central sandwich and munched. And thought.
Newark Penn Station did not have a good reputation. I had never been in it but had the suspicion that the decaying Penn Central would not be spending money on Saturday night security. I could interrupt my return to New York City, assist with her luggage, see her off, and then catch a PATH train into the city.
This seemed reasonable to Isabel D. As best as I can recall we were on time into Newark at 7:20 p.m. Her connection was on an entity named the New York and Long Branch Railroad Company, jointly operated by Penn Central and the Central Railroad of New Jersey. The complex, overlapping managements had decreed that our French visitor was due to become their guest at 8:10 p.m. on the train to Middletown.
Then I got a better idea. (This is usually the part where a sound, effective plan is overrun.) I had never been to Middletown before, so could I escort her all the way to that stop? We checked the schedule. Her train was due to arrive there after the last returning train had departed. But if I stayed on the train to Red Bank I should get there at 9:23 p.m. I could catch a train to Penn Station that was due to depart Red Bank at 10:01 p.m. The northbound night trains scorned Middletown.
On the other hand -- if anything went wrong I would be walking around in my Dress Greens looking for a place to sleep in Red Bank. That had already happened to me with a Penn Central delay in Columbus, Ohio so I should have known better. Being 22½ years old I decided to take a chance.
Our train pulled in on time and we grabbed our bags and boarded. I paused for a moment and asked the conductor if he would make sure that Middletown was called in time as we were both new to the route. As I outlined what we were doing and her status I could see that he was interested. It did not occur to me that I was in a U.S. Army uniform and that it seemed to him as though it was some sort of official business. Now this was not the train to Bay Head Junction -- it was almost the Orient Express!
It was easy for Isabel D. to find one of the unoccupied decaying seats. In a few minutes the conductor came by to lift tickets. To my amazement and our guest's surprise he paused to ask if everything was okay, inviting us to enjoy the trip. This was in an era on the rails dominated by grouchy old men who had seen their life's work falling apart.
"What did you tell him back there?" she asked.
"That we were visitors and needed to be sure to be ready for Middletown," and I left out the part about her being French aristocracy.
That seemed to suit her. In a bit less than an hour her journey into the New Jersey night would come to a halt. She offered to give me her address in case I wanted to visit. I had to explain that I had no idea of where I would be stationed or whether I would be suddenly shipped off to Vietnam (which happened to others). I also was not sure that her parents would welcome an enlisted man as a house guest.
Out of Hazlett the conductor appeared at the end of the car and announced "Middletown next!" A couple of other passengers stirred. And then he came back to us.
"Middletown next, may I help you with your bags?" I was flabbergasted. Commuter train conductors in 1969 did not do that, I thought. We trooped down the aisle behind him, Isabel D. just carrying her purse. The conductor set down her suitcase and handed her down as she gracefully alighted. I set down her other bag.
The Army colonel, in civilian clothes, and his wife were at the other end of the platform. In the dim light they hurried up to us. I snapped a salute -- I was never very good at that -- and the conductor shouted "All aboard!" and gave the highball sign. I remember the colonel's puzzled face as I turned away to reboard.
A few minutes later I was grabbing a quick bite in Red Bank, a city that looked as though both sides of the tracks were the wrong side. And then I was on the Penn Station bound train.
###
Mine has to be while I was riding the California Zephyr between Emeryville and Chicago in a Roomette.
After stopping in Reno and taking a Fresh Air break in the Trench, I was returning to my Room when I heard a Loud, Familiar Voice from the Bedroom Area saying:" I'm heading for the Lounge to have Few if anyone wants to join me."
It was John Madden, the Great Oakland Raider Coach and Monday Night Football Analyst.
There were about 10 people in the Lounge when I got there, and we proceeded to purchase our Beverages of Choice , and headed upstairs for one of the Best " Happy Hours" of my Life.
A few Rounds later, we returned to our Rooms to "rest" and prepare for Dinner as the LSA would be coming around for Reservations .
Coach Madden told us he'd be eating around 6pm, so naturally most of us took the 6pm Slot for Dinner when the LSA came by.
I was fortunate to be seated across from the Coach when I got to the Diner and it was a great meal and a most enjoyable time as you can imagine.
After about an Hour and a Half, we went back to the Lounge and he proceeded to entertain us for a couple of Hours by telling some more great Stories ( some were probably even true! LoL).
For the rest of the way to Denver Wed see him in the Diner and the Lounge, and he was gracious and friendly to everyone and a really great Tipper!
When we got to Denver, he detained having told us he was staying @ the Brown Palace Hotel, and would be doing the Broncos Game Monday Night.
Definitely the most "Real" Celeberity I've ever met, and I've met alot in my Life!
After stopping in Reno and taking a Fresh Air break in the Trench, I was returning to my Room when I heard a Loud, Familiar Voice from the Bedroom Area saying:" I'm heading for the Lounge to have Few if anyone wants to join me."
It was John Madden, the Great Oakland Raider Coach and Monday Night Football Analyst.
There were about 10 people in the Lounge when I got there, and we proceeded to purchase our Beverages of Choice , and headed upstairs for one of the Best " Happy Hours" of my Life.
A few Rounds later, we returned to our Rooms to "rest" and prepare for Dinner as the LSA would be coming around for Reservations .
Coach Madden told us he'd be eating around 6pm, so naturally most of us took the 6pm Slot for Dinner when the LSA came by.
I was fortunate to be seated across from the Coach when I got to the Diner and it was a great meal and a most enjoyable time as you can imagine.
After about an Hour and a Half, we went back to the Lounge and he proceeded to entertain us for a couple of Hours by telling some more great Stories ( some were probably even true! LoL).
For the rest of the way to Denver Wed see him in the Diner and the Lounge, and he was gracious and friendly to everyone and a really great Tipper!
When we got to Denver, he detained having told us he was staying @ the Brown Palace Hotel, and would be doing the Broncos Game Monday Night.
Definitely the most "Real" Celeberity I've ever met, and I've met alot in my Life!
Last edited:
BCL
Engineer
He was well known for his fear of air travel. He did like taking the train but Amtrak's schedules weren't really conducive to his need to travel cross country on a schedule. Of course mostly he traveled by bus - originally a Greyhound conversion just for him with amenities more like an RV - dubbed the Madden Cruiser back when their main buses were the Supercruiser and Americruiser. It's now at the Pro Football Hall of Fame.
I think later on he had a different bus through various sponsors (Walker Advantage Mufflers and Outback Steakhouse), but he got to keep this bus as his own property before he donated it. They had to wrap it in the original livery though since it was previously repainted green.
https://www.profootballhof.com/original-madden-cruiser-finds-new-home-at-pro-football-hall-of-fame/
BCL
Engineer
Well - I guess my most interesting encounter was the first time I'd ever taken an Amtrak long-distance train. I'd been participating on this forum, but only riding Amtrak for a commute between the East Bay and a job in Silicon Valley on Capitol Corridor. This was only a ride on the Coast Starlight from Richmond, CA (before that stop was discontinued) to San Jose, where the fare was cheaper than my usual Capitol Corridor fare for the same ride. I'd asked a lot of questions here about that planned trip including about bringing a stroller on board. And as soon as I got on board someone put two and two together and asked if I was the one who posted about taking a stroller on board.
But I probably spent more time in the dining car for breakfast where I believe we were deliberately paired with a couple staying in sleepers.
But I probably spent more time in the dining car for breakfast where I believe we were deliberately paired with a couple staying in sleepers.
My favorite, among the many good dining companions, was an African American retired pilot, who bonded with my retired Boeing engineer husband. After they finished trading airplane lore, he told us that he had learned to fly after being drafted during the Vietnam war. He turned out to be pretty good at it, and when Nixon made a visit to Vietnam early on in his presidency, this guy was tapped to fly him from place to place. Nixon was impressed with his flying skills, and told him that if there was ever anything he needed, just ask. He immediately responded, "Well, if you could get me the heck out of 'Nam..." Nixon said nothing, but a couple of weeks later, the guy's CO called him in and said, "Well, I have no idea why, but you're being shipped stateside." As he put it, "I never really liked Nixon before that. But afterwards..."
ms garrison
Train Attendant
- Joined
- Oct 26, 2018
- Messages
- 45
I solo travel frequently and always run into that very same personI, interestingly, encountered the best friend I ever met - in my room on board. He was articulate, positively brilliant, had a great sense of humor, very courteous, mature, well educated and well read, and had a scientific mind. We had a great conversation that lasted most of the trip before I finally realized he was the guy in the mirror.
I knew that was coming.I, interestingly, encountered the best friend I ever met - in my room on board. He was articulate, positively brilliant, had a great sense of humor, very courteous, mature, well educated and well read, and had a scientific mind. We had a great conversation that lasted most of the trip before I finally realized he was the guy in the mirror.
hlcteacher
Service Attendant
please specify that is "most African American women" that YOU KNOW, thank you
Ziv
Conductor
Madden got stuck in Glasgow MT for a couple hours back in the early 19070's when the Empire Builder had some track issues to wait out, and when the conductor told him that he could cross the street to get a bite to eat he immediately walked straight past Johnnie's Cafe, famous for its cinnamon rolls and fresh home made pies, to Stan's Saloon, famous for its silver dollar collection bar top and the huge variety of mounted wildlife on its walls. Madden bellied up to the bar and proceeded to chat up the locals while buying the ones next to him Lite Beer, claiming it was on his travel expense account. He is a well respected man in Glasgow! LOL!
I believe he required a certain degree of assistance to cover the 100 yards back to the Builder. Just ill-natured rumors, no doubt.
I believe he required a certain degree of assistance to cover the 100 yards back to the Builder. Just ill-natured rumors, no doubt.
He was well known for his fear of air travel. He did like taking the train but Amtrak's schedules weren't really conducive to his need to travel cross country on a schedule. Of course mostly he traveled by bus - originally a Greyhound conversion just for him with amenities more like an RV - dubbed the Madden Cruiser back when their main buses were the Supercruiser and Americruiser. It's now at the Pro Football Hall of Fame.
I think later on he had a different bus through various sponsors (Walker Advantage Mufflers and Outback Steakhouse), but he got to keep this bus as his own property before he donated it. They had to wrap it in the original livery though since it was previously repainted green.
https://www.profootballhof.com/original-madden-cruiser-finds-new-home-at-pro-football-hall-of-fame/
Have had a few over the years. Met a National Geographic reporter/photographer on the Empire Builder doing a story on rail travel. Told me about some of his world travels during his career. We also had the best LSA on that trip. She kept the Dining Car in stitches telling jokes! She even rattled off a few Pollack jokes and said sorry but she was born in Poland and they were funny! Most everyone couldn’t eat because they were laughing too hard at her routine.
Met and had breakfast with Maureen Stapleton on the Lake Shore Limited about 1990. She was not a traveling person and her morning beverages were a couple of Boiler Makers! She was in the same sleeper/slumbercoach as my partner and I were.
Heading from Los Angeles to Seattle I opted for a “Deluxe Bedroom” (Bedroom today) versus an “Economy Bedroom” (now Roomette) on the Coast Starlight and had Liza Minelli in the room next to me. She had body guards that prevented any contact with other passengers. Not the least bit cordial.
Met a young professional prostitute on one trip. She was a college student back in Maryland (if I remember right) that was working at the Mustang Ranch in Sparks, NV to pay for college. And no she was not working on the train! The conductor told me that it was quite common for the Mustang Ranch “employees” to take the train to/from “work”.
Partner and I did a western loop (he wasn’t thrilled but I loved it) in 2003. What was fun was while on the westbound California Zephyr we had a party in the lower level of the Smoking car. This was at the subtle suggestion of two Coach attendants. We all chipped in for the refreshments. A couple of younger (legal age) folks ran across the street at Grand Junction, CO and grabbed a couple of assorted bottles of booze and a couple hit the 7-11 for mixer and snacks. We set-up the “bar” on the baggage shelves. And had one helluva good time! The Coach Attendants (if I remember right both with 20+ years of service) both came downstairs (no they did not imbibe) periodically and told a few jokes and the like. We partied to just about Provo, UT. And to the best of my knowledge no one from upstairs complained.
Though the most memorable trip was a last minute quick trip for the heck of it to Sacramento, CA from Fort Morgan, CO and return. I booked the trip the night before in a Roomette. And stayed the night in Vagabond Inn across the street from the Sacramento station. Then caught the eastbound back the next morning. Well, shortly after departing Reno, NV I was in the Lounge (where I spent most of the trip) taking pictures. When a stocky gentleman in a black t-shirt with some graphic I don’t remember and camo shorts came up behind me. He tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was Karl as he raised the tail of his t-shirt to exposed a Reno Police Department badge. The was another gentleman standing behind him similarly dressed. My first thought was that I may have taken a picture of someone or something on the Reno platform they were interested in. So I asked him what I could do to help them. He advised that they were with the Reno Police Department Drug Interdiction Joint Task Force. And he told me that my booking profiled me as a possible drug/money runner in the Amtrak, DEA and NCIS computers. I just said cool. He confirmed that I had a Roomette and asked if they could check it and my luggage. I said sure follow me. We got to my room and I handed him my ID which the other officer/agent ran. Then he pulled down my small overnight bag from the upper bunk and carefully went through it and then looked into my camera bag. Of course, no contraband found. The other officer/agent handed me my ID back and they both apologized for the inconvenience. I said what inconvenience and that I appreciate what they do. They turned and head down the hall. There were five officers/agents on board and I heard that they had pinched a couple of young men with some weed on them and removed at the next stop though I’m not positive of that. I saw the five officers/agents standing in the parking lot at Truckee as we rolled westward they were waiting for the eastbound Zephyr back to Reno. That was the most memorable for sure.
Met and had breakfast with Maureen Stapleton on the Lake Shore Limited about 1990. She was not a traveling person and her morning beverages were a couple of Boiler Makers! She was in the same sleeper/slumbercoach as my partner and I were.
Heading from Los Angeles to Seattle I opted for a “Deluxe Bedroom” (Bedroom today) versus an “Economy Bedroom” (now Roomette) on the Coast Starlight and had Liza Minelli in the room next to me. She had body guards that prevented any contact with other passengers. Not the least bit cordial.
Met a young professional prostitute on one trip. She was a college student back in Maryland (if I remember right) that was working at the Mustang Ranch in Sparks, NV to pay for college. And no she was not working on the train! The conductor told me that it was quite common for the Mustang Ranch “employees” to take the train to/from “work”.
Partner and I did a western loop (he wasn’t thrilled but I loved it) in 2003. What was fun was while on the westbound California Zephyr we had a party in the lower level of the Smoking car. This was at the subtle suggestion of two Coach attendants. We all chipped in for the refreshments. A couple of younger (legal age) folks ran across the street at Grand Junction, CO and grabbed a couple of assorted bottles of booze and a couple hit the 7-11 for mixer and snacks. We set-up the “bar” on the baggage shelves. And had one helluva good time! The Coach Attendants (if I remember right both with 20+ years of service) both came downstairs (no they did not imbibe) periodically and told a few jokes and the like. We partied to just about Provo, UT. And to the best of my knowledge no one from upstairs complained.
Though the most memorable trip was a last minute quick trip for the heck of it to Sacramento, CA from Fort Morgan, CO and return. I booked the trip the night before in a Roomette. And stayed the night in Vagabond Inn across the street from the Sacramento station. Then caught the eastbound back the next morning. Well, shortly after departing Reno, NV I was in the Lounge (where I spent most of the trip) taking pictures. When a stocky gentleman in a black t-shirt with some graphic I don’t remember and camo shorts came up behind me. He tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was Karl as he raised the tail of his t-shirt to exposed a Reno Police Department badge. The was another gentleman standing behind him similarly dressed. My first thought was that I may have taken a picture of someone or something on the Reno platform they were interested in. So I asked him what I could do to help them. He advised that they were with the Reno Police Department Drug Interdiction Joint Task Force. And he told me that my booking profiled me as a possible drug/money runner in the Amtrak, DEA and NCIS computers. I just said cool. He confirmed that I had a Roomette and asked if they could check it and my luggage. I said sure follow me. We got to my room and I handed him my ID which the other officer/agent ran. Then he pulled down my small overnight bag from the upper bunk and carefully went through it and then looked into my camera bag. Of course, no contraband found. The other officer/agent handed me my ID back and they both apologized for the inconvenience. I said what inconvenience and that I appreciate what they do. They turned and head down the hall. There were five officers/agents on board and I heard that they had pinched a couple of young men with some weed on them and removed at the next stop though I’m not positive of that. I saw the five officers/agents standing in the parking lot at Truckee as we rolled westward they were waiting for the eastbound Zephyr back to Reno. That was the most memorable for sure.
Diana Ross is a people person. My life partner lived a block or so from the Motown Studios on West Grand Ave next to Henry Ford Hospital as a kid. He was coming home from the store and ran into Tammy Tyrell and her on the sidewalk. He knew who Tammy Tyrell was but not Diana Ross. Well he was the spitting image of little Opie Taylor (Ron Howard) with red hair and all. Diana Ross and Tammy Tyrell both bent over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Marvin Gaye and Smokey Robinson were sitting on the porch.
Reno's Finest!
I agree! Utmost respect for them and all others in blue.
My most interesting encounter was in the diner on a westbound Canadian with a middle-aged man and his wife returning from a holiday in Halifax. We covered all sorts of subjects, especially Canadian history, and he was so articulate and knowledgable that I deduced he must be a professor of something or other at a college in Edmonton. When the train approached that city, I asked him what he did for a living. "I'm an engineer for VIA," he said as he got up from the table, "and now I have to go up front and drive the train to Jasper (or somewhere like that)."
Saddleshoes
Service Attendant
- Joined
- Jun 12, 2015
- Messages
- 145
With the water problems being reported in the western states I have been thinking about a guy I meet over lunch on the CV some years go.
As we were rolling thought the western slope of Colorado he was a wealth of information. When I ask how he knew some much about the area he told me he was the guy in charge of water for the Colorado river basin. His job required him to know every mountain and little stream in parts of 7 or 8 states.
Holy Smokes! --- This was the guy that decided how much water LA, Las Vegas, Phoenix, and California's Imperial Valley could have on any given year. This guy had God like powers for like 40 million people.
He was a delightful traveling companion. These days I have been wondering how his doing and how his job has been going.
As we were rolling thought the western slope of Colorado he was a wealth of information. When I ask how he knew some much about the area he told me he was the guy in charge of water for the Colorado river basin. His job required him to know every mountain and little stream in parts of 7 or 8 states.
Holy Smokes! --- This was the guy that decided how much water LA, Las Vegas, Phoenix, and California's Imperial Valley could have on any given year. This guy had God like powers for like 40 million people.
He was a delightful traveling companion. These days I have been wondering how his doing and how his job has been going.
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