My Experiences With Jim Mahon (The Bear)

 

By Grant Shaw

 

 

Introduction

 

Our friendship with Jim and Nola Mahon and the other members of our FHE group has been a major enhancement to the enjoyment of our retirement years. As I was reviewing in my mind all of the things Jim and I have done together it occurred to me that for the last six-plus years I have been living in a rail fan dream world.  That thought sparked a desire within me to write down some of those memories because just maybe they might be of interest to other rail fans.  At least it will be good to have them in written form when I am trying to tell my grandchildren about my association with The Bear, a railroading legend.

 

What is an FHE group?  Read on and you will find out.

 

 

The Making of A Rail Fan

 

I was born and raised in Martinez, California, which was a town of some importance to the Southern Pacific Railroad for a couple of reasons.  It was the junction point between two important main lines.  The first was their double track line connecting the San Francisco Bay Area and Sacramento. The second was their line to Tracy, which at the time was an important gateway to the Central Valley.  Martinez was also the location of a large Shell Oil refinery which generated substantial business for the SP.

 

Both of my parents were raised in Ogden, Utah, and my father graduated from the University of Utah with a degree in chemical engineering.  Subsequent employment with the Shell Chemical Company led to their residence in Martinez, about 800 miles from home.  They were both terribly homesick.  In our home there was never any discussion about where we would be going for vacation.  It was Ogden.

 

In those days a trip to Utah was a big deal.  You didn’t just decide to go on a whim.  You planned and saved.  If you went by automobile you made sure your car had been properly serviced and that the tires were in top condition.  Even then breakdowns were almost expected.  There were no freeways.  Many of the roads were not much more than country lanes and they all went right through the middle of every town.  I remember that passing through Sacramento took forever!

 

Occasionally we went by train.  Normally it was the Overland Limited which stopped in Martinez to pick up passengers.  The more luxurious train, the City of San Francisco, did not stop in Martinez.  On one occasion a friend of the family took us to Berkeley so we could catch “The City.”  I am guessing dad must have received a raise in pay and felt he could afford to treat the family to the extra fare train.

Whether we went by car or train, I was excited and fascinated by the whole experience and that has not changed to this day.

 

Once in Utah, my Grandpa Price would take me down to the SP Ogden Shops to show me around his workplace and to introduce me to his fellow workers.  The steam engines were immense and very frightening to a small boy.  The diesel engines were sleek and beautiful.  Grandpa took time to explain the difference between an “A” unit and a “B” unit as well as the difference between freight and passenger units.  These were days not to be forgotten.

 

Then, to top it off, my uncle Fred Price would take me down to the CTC office and show me how he could throw a switch that was a hundred miles away.  Is it any wonder that a new rail fan was being born?

 

There were other contributing factors.  My dad also had a fascination with trains.  When he was a boy he once came home after spending the day at Ogden Union Station and announced that he intended on becoming an engineer.  His mother responded by informing him that he could only achieve that dream over her dead body.  She was a very strong willed woman so as close as he got was chemical engineer, but his interest in trains continued.  He once told me that his office at Shell had a window that provided a lovely view of the Tracy line and the line to Sacramento as it curved up on its approach to the bridge across Suisun Bay.  He said it was a terrible distraction that not even blinds could completely neutralize. Blinds simply could not stop the sound of a cab forward pounding up the grade to the bridge.

 

Anyway, in our home there were always copies of Trains Magazine and Model Railroader Magazine which served to fuel my interest.  We also had electric trains and HO model trains.  By the time I was a teenager we had graduated to a one eighth scale backyard railroad that graced our one acre property on the outskirts of Martinez.

 

To say that I became a rail fan is accurate, but, more specifically I became a fan of the Southern Pacific, with a further focus on the Central Pacific. I read everything I could about the early days of its construction and operation.  While I developed an admiration for each member of the Big Four, my greatest respect was reserved for Theodore Dehone Judah.  Here was a man that believed the impossible could be done.  I especially liked the fact that he didn’t just talk about building a railroad across the Sierra-Nevada mountain range, but he also went to work to demonstrate that it could be done, and he did so amid ridicule and scorn.  Because of his determination and passion he became known as “Crazy Judah.”

 

 

The Making of A Railroad Legend

 

Businesses, like people, have a personality.  Some call it a corporate culture.  As I studied the history of the Southern Pacific it dawned on me at some point that SP had adopted the personality of Theodore Judah.  I think it may have been required in order to survive. The SP faced a daunting array of challenges from Mother Nature, several of which, taken by themselves, were unlike anything faced by any other railroad on earth.  Time and again these challenges were met with Crazy-Judah-like determination while bystanders were saying that it could not be done.  I concluded that in any battle between Mother Nature and the SP it would be foolish to bet against the SP.

 

I could offer example after example which stand as evidence that what I say is not an exaggeration. However, it serves my purpose here to focus on just one example.

 

In October of 1903, the SP completed construction of the 103 mile long Lucin Cut-Off, including 12 miles of wood trestle and 17 miles earth fill directly across the Great Salt Lake.  This direct confrontation with Mother Nature had taken over 3500 men working day and night for three years to complete.  Total cost was $8,358,833 in 1903 dollars.  However, from Mother Nature’s perspective this fight was not over.

 

It is not uncommon for storms on the Great Salt Lake to produce wind speeds of 60 miles per hour.  Even at speeds much less than that the heavy salt water (28% to 33% salt) becomes a battering ram, capable of carrying off tons of rock fill like so much foam.

 

On several occasions over the years the railroad simply disappeared beneath the waves.  To combat this erosion the SP routinely reinforced the causeway with thousands of carloads of rock.

 

By 1950, it was becoming clear that the trestle portion of the causeway was nearing the end of its life and would need to be rebuilt or replaced. Construction of a replacement fill, 1500 feet north of the trestle, was commenced in June 1955, and completed in July 1959.  This new fill solved the problem of the deteriorating trestle, but it also added another 12 miles of fill which was vulnerable to the violent lake storms. Interestingly, the trestle withstood those storms better than causeway fill.

 

In the early 1980’s the Great Salt Lake began to rise.  In one 12 month period it rose an amazing four feet!  Accordingly, SP stepped up their normal maintenance effort to what can only be described as all out war.  From the pages of Trains Magazine I learned that SP had called on someone by the name of Jim Mahon (a.k.a. The Bear) to command the assault.  Six days a week, from 6AM until 6PM, Mr. Mahon and his soldiers took complete control of the railroad in order to tear down a mountain and throw it into the lake.  This was accomplished with help of many work trains, each consisting of about 80 side-dump cars.

 

A few statistics may help reveal the immensity of this effort.  In one six month period alone, from January 1, 1984, to July 1, 1984, SP forces had dumped 23,753 carloads of rock and fill material into the lake for a total of more than one million cubic yards.  To top it off, during this same period they had unloaded 6,783 carloads of ballast.  Remember that this was just six months of the war that was waged from 1983 until June of 1986, which cost the SP a total of $85 million, all to keep 60 miles of rail line above water.  Most of this information comes from the book “Southern Pacific’s Salt Lake Division” by John R. Signor and articles in Trains Magazine.

 

Starting in April 1986, Mother Nature decided to show SP who is the real Bear. She unleashed a series of storms on the lake that culminated in a monster that struck late in the afternoon of June 6, 1986.  By Monday, June 9th, almost 12 miles of the causeway had been washed away, with many more miles severely damaged. Photos taken during and after the storm are truly amazing.

 

All work on the causeway ceased while SP decided what to do next.  Most railroad industry observers were outspoken in their belief that the railroad across the Great Salt Lake was finished.  However, they had lost sight of one thing:  This was the railroad of Crazy Judah.

 

SP first consulted with the highly educated experts who warned of the vast fortune that would be required to put the causeway back into service, and this would be accomplished only after years of effort.  They suggested two or three alternatives.

 

SP turned next to “The Bear” for his opinion.  After a few choice words concerning the suggestions of “the experts,” Mahon told them that he could have the causeway back in operation within 14 months and at a fraction of the cost suggested by “the experts.”  But, he told his management, it had to be done his way.  There would be no micro-management from headquarters in San Francisco and they would promptly provide him with all of the men and equipment he asked for, without question.  Against all conventional wisdom the SP promptly agreed to Mahon’s terms and turned him loose.

 

What happen during the next 78 days left “the experts” with their mouths hanging open.  Hundreds of men and hundreds of pieces of heavy equipment were gathered from all over the vast Southern Pacific system.  Two cities were built to house this workforce out in one of the most remote deserts in North America.  Mahon insisted that these settlements have dinning halls that served large quantities of only the best food, 24 hours a day. This workforce would be well fed.

 

Mahon did not push his men, he led them by example. How could they complain of being tired when The Bear slept only when shear exhaustion overtook him?  On several occasions that point came only after he had been awake for over 50 hours!

 

By the end of those 78 days Mahon and his crew had dumped 2 million tons(!) of fill material into the lake, half of which consisted of heavy rock that Mahon believed could withstand the worst storms. On August 23, the first revenue train crossed the lake since the storms of June.  A few weeks later the causeway was returned to the operating department. In early November The Lake tested the new armored fill with storm winds of 60 mph.  The fill held.

 

What the experts had predicted would take years had been accomplished in three months!  Jim’s own estimate of 14 months was considered to be wildly optimistic.  He probably would have been laughed off the property had he told them he could do it in three month.

 

Over the years that followed, my admiration and respect for Jim Mahon deepened as additional stories of his accomplishments appeared in Trains Magazine. Among other things, I learned that he was the master of snow removal on Donner Pass.

 

Anyone who knows anything about railroading on Donner Pass will tell you that each winter brings a pitched battle with Mother Nature to keep the line open.  Since 1865, Mother Nature has won that battle on many occasions, with the railroad out of service for weeks at a time.  Entire trains have been snowbound on “The Hill” and railroaders have lost their lives in the rescue efforts.

 

Mahon kept a promise to himself when none of that happen during his watch of more than 35 years.  In his introduction to John Signor’s book “Donner Pass, Southern Pacific’s Sierra Crossing” Richard Steinheimer wrote the following:  “Giants still roam the mountain.  Regional maintenance of way manager Jim Mahon’s forceful management of snowfighting is probably worth two rotary snowplows, anytime.”

 

Jim Mahon was achieving legendary status on a level with Theodore Judah.

 

 

How I Met Jim Mahon

 

In 1980 I ended my employment with Hewlett-Packard (HP) in order to become self employed.  The business grew slowly, but steadily, until I retired in 2005, at which point our two oldest sons took over the day to day operations.  My wife and I decided that we would move away for our retirement years so that I would not be tempted to spend too much time at the office.

 

After not a lot of deliberation, we purchased a home on three acres in Auburn, California.  Why we selected Auburn is the subject of another story, but let me just point out that one factor may have been that Auburn is surrounded by the two main lines of SP’s Donner Pass crossing.

 

At this point in the story I need to tell you a little about our religion which played a significant role in our friendship with Jim and Nola Mahon.  As life-long members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints we are often called Mormons, which is a nickname. I will refer to the Church hereafter as the LDS Church or just the Church.

 

The LDS Church is organized into congregations called “wards” having specific geographic boundaries.  Our new home in Auburn fell within the boundaries of the Auburn Second Ward so we went to church on Sunday at the place and time where that ward met.  Each ward is presided over by an unpaid minister who carries the title of Bishop.  Bishops serve for a few years and then are replaced by someone else in the ward.

 

It did not take me long to discover that just about everyone living in and around Auburn likes trains to some degree.  It’s a requirement for survival here.  Those main lines I mentioned earlier are busy, day and night.  Occasionally, someone will write a letter to the editor of the Auburn Journal newspaper complaining about the seemingly continual railroad noise.  A few days later an old-timer will respond with a letter asking the complainer if they did not know they were moving to a railroad town when they came here.  Often the complainer is compared to someone who moves to the end of a runway and then complains about airplanes.

 

This was a different experience for me.  In high tech Silicon Valley (where we raised our family for 32 years) my rail fan hobby was considered to be somewhat strange. In Auburn it was normal.  Not knowing this at first, I attempted to keep my rail fan hobby to myself. However, this did not last long as I quickly became aware that my hobby was shared by everyone around here.

 

So, one Sunday at church our ward bishop came up to me told me about someone living in our ward who was a famous railroader.  I came to full attention.  From our conversation I learned that this railroader was indeed Jim Mahon and that he was not a member of the Church, but his wife, Nola, was a member but not currently active.  This was very interesting.  Maybe I would have the opportunity to actually meet The Bear.

 

That opportunity came a few weeks later.  LDS people are encouraged to set aside Monday evenings for “Family Home Evening” (FHE).   This is a time to be spent together with your family doing various things, including fun activities, service to others, or a lesson from the scriptures.  Almost always these activities end with something sweet to eat. 

 

Once all of your children grow up and leave home it can be a little lonely on Monday night.  So, “empty nesters” in a ward will often organize themselves into FHE groups which meet together on Monday nights and do the same things together that they used to do with their children.

 

Soon after moving into the Auburn 2nd Ward we were invited to join one of the FHE groups.  We found the Monday night meetings to be very enjoyable and we soon became close friends with all members of our FHE group.  Two of those friends are Lou Salatino and his wife Carol.  One Sunday at church Lou told me that Carol had befriended Nola Mahon and had invited her and her husband (The Bear) to attend our FHE group the next evening which was to be held in Lou and Carol’s home.  Lou said further that he was pretty sure the Mahon’s were coming.  Needless to say, this was one FHE that I would not be missing.

 

We walked in, and there he was sitting on the couch next to his wife.  I had no intention of acting like a school girl at a Beatles concert, so I just sat down on the other side of the living room. Lou was not having any of my feigned coolness.  He pointed at Jim and said in a loud voice, “Grant, don’t you know who this is?”

 

“Yes, he’s The Bear,” was my subdued response.

 

With a big grin on his face Jim asked, “How did you know that?”

 

I said, “I know who you are.  You are famous.”

 

Thus began our friendship with Jim and Nola Mahon which continues to this day (December, 2011).  We have done many things together, some of which had something to do with railroading. My purpose here is to tell you about some of those experiences which provide a view of the man, Jim Mahon, from the perspective of a good friend who happens to also be a rail fan.  Some of the stories I am telling do not directly relate to railroading, but they were important to me and they help to explain why we became such good friends.  The following stories are not in chronological order.

 

 

Chasing Union Pacific 884 West

 

One day I received a call from Jim to tell me that Union Pacific’s steam engine, 844, was coming down the mountain on an excursion.  He asked if we would like to go chase it with him and Nola. A short time later they came by and picked us up and off we went up the mountain to Emigrant Gap.

 

Jim does not readily admit to being a rail fan.  He wants people to believe that for him it was a job; a job that he usually enjoyed and that he took very seriously, but in the end it was a job and not a hobby.  His hobbies are hunting and fishing and barbequing.

 

Well, on this little excursion to find and follow the 844 his non-rail-fan façade slipped a little.  At The Gap it became clear that he was not just a casual observer who was only there to help out his rail fan buddy (me).  Out came his own camera and he made an effort to find just the right spot for a good shot.  This seemed a lot like rail fan behavior to me.

 

Once the locomotive and her train had slipped under the freeway we all jumped in the car and with Jim at the wheel we roared off for the chase.  I have been accused in the past of what I call high performance driving in the pursuit of certain railroad equipment. My wife (Patricia) calls it reckless driving, but she likes to kid a lot.  Let’s just say that after this little episode with Jim, my wife gained a greater appreciation for my safe and sane driving in these circumstances. Meanwhile, I am thinking that for a non-rail fan, he sure was driving like a rail fan.  On the other hand, this is a man who received three speeding tickets on the same day . . . in three different states!  Hey, he was on his way to a derailment.

 

There are several major advantages of chasing trains with Jim Mahon. First, he knows every turn-off that leads to the tracks.  Second, he knows how long it takes for a train to go between any two points on the line. And third, he has a railroad story to tell about each location.

 

We stopped at Gold Run for more pictures and then it was on to Colfax. At Colfax the train stopped just short of the crossing to allow the large crowd a chance to see the engine up close.  The 844 had to work a little to start her train due to the slight up-grade to the crossing.  The sound of her exhaust echoing off the surrounding hills brought a cheer from the crowd.  I had not noticed if Jim had joined that cheer, but later in the car he commented on how much he had enjoyed that great soul stirring music that only a steam engine can produce.  Not a rail fan?  Ha!

 

Next it was on to Bowman and then Newcastle.  Jim did not need to be coaxed in order to make these stops.  They were his decisions.  After the 844 west had passed Newcastle something interesting happened.  A man from one of the rail fan video production companies recognized Jim and wanted to do an on-camera interview with The Bear, on the spot.  At first Jim resisted the idea, but then agreed when the rest of us encouraged him to go ahead.  I was thinking, “Wow!  Jim is still famous.”

 

Over lunch at Newcastle Produce Jim explained his reluctance to do the interview.  It seems that years before he had granted this production company the privilege of video taping snow removal efforts on The Mountain, with the provision that they edit out certain things that might be objectionable.  Well, when the video was released, the objectionable material was included.  Jim was livid and made it clear that this company was no longer welcome on the property.

 

 

Jim Mahon Becomes (Gasp!) A Mormon

 

Several years before we moved to Auburn the Mormon missionaries stopped by the Mahon home for a visit.  Although Nola is a lifelong member of the Church she had not attended a church meeting in many years.  Still, she had certain feelings for these lady missionaries and so she invited them in.

 

Over the years that followed many different sets of young Mormon missionaries became regular guests in the Mahon home.  Jim enjoyed feeding them and they enjoyed eating Jim’s food and listening to railroad stories.  Along the way they taught Jim and Nola about the Church.  Then one day Nola was very surprised when Jim announced that they were going to church.

 

Finally, Jim decided he wanted to be a member of the Church and so he was baptized on December 31, 2006, by Ron Comstock.  Ron and Jim had become good friends during the years Jim was investigating the Church. I had the privilege of giving a talk on the subject of baptism during the service.  This was several months after meeting Jim and Nola at the FHE in Lou and Carol’s home.

 

One of our daughters, Lisa, could not comprehend why her father was so excited about the baptism of an old railroad man, so I tried to put it into terms that she would understand.  She has always been a big fan of the rock band called Pearl Jam and the lead singer, Eddie Vedder.  She has traveled all over the western United States attending Pearl Jam concerts.  I said, “Imagine that you have just moved into a new ward and that you find out that Eddie Vedder lives nearby.  Furthermore, imagine that he has decided to join the Church and has asked you to give a talk at his baptismal service.  Would you be just a little excited by that?”

 

In her eyes I could see a glimmer of understanding beginning to develop as she said, “Yes, I would be very excited, but Southern Pacific is not a rock band and Jim Mahon is not the lead singer.”

 

I said, “Well, to me it is and he is.”

 

 

Home Teaching The Mahon’s

 

Shortly after Jim’s baptism, I was assigned as a home teacher to the Mahon family, along with my home teaching partner, Frank Sigrist.  Once a month Frank and I would visit the Mahon’s in their home as representatives of the ward bishop.  The purpose of our visit was to teach lessons about the gospel of Jesus Christ and to find out how the Mahon’s were doing and to offer help of any kind.

 

At the time Frank was still working as a B&B man for the Union Pacific. When I told him that we would be home teaching a new member of the Church by the name of Jim Mahon, his mouth fell open.  He said, “The Bear?”

 

“That’s him,” I replied.

 

He took a minute to absorb the concept of an LDS Bear and then offered the following tidbit.  ”You know, Jim Mahon could blister paint on the wall with just a few choice words.”

 

I am, of course, well aware of the colorful language capabilities of railroaders, so Frank’s comment just confirmed what I already knew.  While there are far worse things than swearing, LDS people are still encouraged to use clean language.  One thing I have learned about Jim Mahon is that he does not do things half way.  It’s either 110 percent or not at all.  So, when he joined the Church he actively went to work on becoming the best Latter-day Saint possible, including the elimination of his salty language.  It has not been easy.  He occasionally slips, especially when trying to explain how he feels about the Union Pacific, but who can blame him for that?

 

A typical home teaching visit in the Mahon home goes something like this: We engage in small talk for a minute or two and then present our lesson which lasts 10 minutes, or so.  Then one of us offers a prayer.  At this point a normal home teaching visit would end. What happens next in the Mahon home is at least an hour of railroad talk. I ask a few questions.  Jim tells a few stories.  Frank kicks in a story or two.  The time flies.

 

By the way, Nola Mahon also worked many years for the Southern Pacific and has her share of stories to tell.  She also has a great collection of railroad artifacts, including many ancient switch locks and keys.

 

At first my wife wanted to know why a home teaching visit to the Mahon’s took so long.  I tried to explain that I just couldn’t keep Frank, Jim and Nola from “talking shop.”  I don’t think she ever bought that story.  She does not ask anymore.

 

 

Donner Pass Rail Excursion with Jim Mahon

 

As mentioned earlier, just about everyone living in and around Auburn likes trains to some extent.  Within our FHE group I discovered widespread interest in the idea of an Amtrak excursion from Roseville to Reno and back.  I hasten to point out that I was not the source of this idea.  In fact, even after living in Auburn for a year, I was still not comfortable revealing the extent of my interest railroading.  However, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide because I had begun the construction of a one eighth scale railroad on our property.

 

Anyway, several of our FHE friends approached me and asked if I would take the lead in organizing the group excursion that they had been talking about for many months.  How could I resist?

 

On Friday, March 2, 2007, our group of 31 people gathered at the train station in Roseville, California, and boarded Amtrak #6, the eastbound California Zephyr.  After the conductor lifted our group ticket we all headed for the lounge car which we effectively took over.

 

We had billed this trip as an excursion with Jim Mahon, the man who knows the Donner Pass line like no other. Jim lived up to the billing as he went from group to group in the lounge car telling stories about the places our train was passing through.  He even stopped and visited with people who were not part of our excursion.  I think everyone in the car sensed there was something special going on.

 

Finally, he came to the group I was seated with at the head end of the car and began to challenge my knowledge of the Donner Pass line.  By this point in our friendship he was well aware that I have a fairly thorough understanding of railroading on Donner Pass and because of that he seems to enjoy asking questions that prove I don’t know everything which, of course, I don’t.  He now engaged in this activity in front of everyone at our end of the car. It went something like this:

 

“Where are we now?” he demanded.

 

“Cape Horn,” I responded.  “And, that tunnel over there is the Panama Canal.  And by the way, no Chinese were ever lowered over the edge here in baskets to carve out the roadbed.”

 

This sort of thing went on for some time.  Years later I was reminiscing with a friend about the good time we had had on this trip and he said that he had particularly enjoyed this exchange between myself and The Bear.

 

We detrained at Sparks where vans from the Nugget picked some of us up for the short trip to the hotel.  Others of us just walked.  We had an enjoyable evening of eating and visiting with our friends.

 

The next morning I called Amtrak to find out how the eastbound Zephyr was doing. I was told it was running about four hours late.  That meant about a 1:00 PM departure from Sparks.  I called the rooms of each member of our group and told them they could take their time getting ready to go.

 

Subsequent calls to Amtrak, as the morning slipped by, revealed that our train was doing what late trains do:  They get later.  It was now looking like a 2:00 PM departure. After lunch our group decided to go on over to the Sparks train station.  We did not want to risk missing our train.

 

To call the spot a “station” where Amtrak picks up and drops off passengers in Sparks is a major overstatement.  It’s not even an Amshack. It’s just a stretch of asphalt in front of the historic Sparks yard office.  No restrooms, no shelter, no drinking fountain, no nothin’.  At least it was on the edge of a working railroad yard which provided entertainment for some of us.

 

Anyway, we probably arrived sometime between 1:00 and 1:30 PM. By 2:30 people were becoming restless and I knew I had to do something about the lack of a restroom.  I barged into the yard office and explained our circumstances.  The Union Pacific employees graciously granted access.  I went outside and announced the availability of the UP facilities which made me into a temporary hero again.

 

As another hour dragged by my hero status began to fade, at least in my own eyes.  As the organizer of this excursion I felt an irrational responsibility for the late train even though I had warned group members of the possibility.

 

In spite of the good weather I was becoming increasingly concerned about our oldest couple, Skip and Marge Tenney.  We could all tell that they were struggling a little. We found a bench for them to sit on and water was obtained for them.  Interestingly, they never uttered a single word of complaint.  These very sweet people taught us all a lesson about patience in stressful circumstances.

 

At some point a rather rough looking railroad employee came out of the yard office and stood there for a moment taking in the strange sight of all these older people crowded around his workplace.  Marge took the opportunity to ask him if he knew when the Amtrak train would arrive.  He said, “About four o’clock.”

 

Marge’s next question was, “Then why did they tell us it would be here at two?”

 

Without hesitation came the answer: “Because they are lying government bastards!”

 

The lesson to be learned here is never ask a railroader a question unless you are prepared to hear the unvarnished truth.

 

Our train finally arrived around 5:00 PM and they loaded our group onto the last car.  We quickly discovered that we were the only passengers on this car and that it was not going to be the last car for long.  A switch engine was bringing up an additional Superliner car toward the end of our train.  We later learned that this car had been repaired in Sparks and was now being returned to Oakland.  We felt the bump as the joint was made, but no pull back to test the joint.  That didn’t seem right to me.  I later learned that Jim was also uncomfortable with the lack of pull back.

 

It didn’t take long for our discomfort to be justified.  As we were passing over the double crossovers just west of the yard the joint failed and we went into emergency.  We came to a screeching halt, as did the disconnected car which was now about 15 feet behind us.  It took an hour to finally get the rebellious car securely reattached.  During that hour they had a terrible time trying to get one of the coupler pins to fall.  Over the train PA system the conductor told us all to hang on because we were going to back into the stray car hard.  It was obvious that didn’t work when the “lost sheep” just bounced off. Next we backed into her nice and slow and then someone got under the train and banged away with what sounded like a very large hammer for a considerable amount of time.

 

During this time our conductor entertained us over the PA system by telling us about all the bad luck this train had experienced since leaving Chicago.  This guy was very funny.  He told us that when the train went into emergency he had said to himself something like, “What fresh hell is this?”

 

I was feeling particularly sorry for the passengers bound for Reno.  Here they were seven hours late leaving Sparks with only three miles to go.  Surely they would be home in just a few minutes. And, then boom!  We sit there for an hour within walking distance to the Reno station.

 

One reason for our excursion was to see the beautiful snow on Donner Pass while seated in the comfort of the lounge car. We had that experience on the way to Sparks, but now the anticipation of a repeat performance had faded with the setting sun.  It was completely dark as we left Reno.  And then something wonderful happened.  The full moon appeared and lit up the snowy mountains with silver light that seemed almost heavenly.  The lunar lit scenes that unfolded as our train rounded each curve brought exclamations of joy from our group members.  Suddenly people forgot how unpleasant the delay had been and the mood changed completely.

 

We arrived at the Roseville station at midnight.  Thus ended a rail excursion, which our FHE group still talks about with affection.

 

 

Chasing SP 209 West (The Rotary)

 

In March of 2010 the Union Pacific lost the railroad for close to a week. They had been warned by Jim Mahon and other former SP employees about what would eventually happen if they did not take the Sierra Mountains more seriously.  The UP attitude was that they knew how to run a railroad and they didn’t need advice from a bunch of “old school” railroaders.  The stage was set for a large helping of “humble pie.”

 

Snow on Donner Pass is very deceptive.  There is always a lot of it, but for many years in a row it can come from storms that are nicely spaced.  This allows plenty of time for the railroad to clean up between storms and lulls the unsuspecting into a false sense of security.  And then, almost without warning, there will be a series of storms that will drop a lot of snow in a big hurry.  And, this is not Midwestern snow.  This snow is very wet and heavy and can quickly overwhelm normal snow fighting equipment of the most modern kind.

 

Years of experience had taught SP snow fighters how to keep from being overwhelmed.  The key to success was the ability to see the subtle danger signs far enough in advance so that the proper men and equipment could be deployed in time to prevent disaster. This is the basic lesson UP management could not or would not learn.

 

SP’s ultimate snow fighting weapon, for use only in the most extreme conditions, was the rotary snowplow.  It is not my purpose here to provide the details of what these huge machines are capable of, other than to say they can throw large quantities of heavy snow into another Zip code, and they can literally tear through a snow drift which is higher than the plow itself.  They are, however, expensive to operate which is why they were pressed into service by the SP only when the threat to continued railroad operation became serious. For many years the SP depended on Jim Mahon to determine when it was time for the rotaries to roll.

 

Jim’s strategy was to prevent closure of the railroad rather than to recover from closure of the railroad.  There were some critics who felt that Jim used the rotaries more frequently than was necessary.  Maybe.  On the other hand, keep in mind that the railroad was never lost once during the 36 years that The Bear was in charge!

 

After Union Pacific took over the SP in 1996, Jim tried to help the new management understand the importance of the rotaries and offered to train new people in their operation.  His offers were met with typical UP arrogance.  In fact, they suggested that under their management the rotaries would no longer be necessary.  Jim grew weary of this sort of treatment and retired in 1999.

 

The Federal Railroad Administration (FRA) rebuked the UP after they scrapped one of the rotaries because they had been designated as historic pieces of railroad equipment.  Next, UP considered painting the remaining rotaries in their sickening armor yellow paint scheme.  They were told they could not do that because of the historic status of the rotaries. They had to remain in their SP colors with their SP reporting marks.  YES!

 

By about 2008, there was only one man left working for the UP who was an expert on rotary snowplow operation and he was about to retire.  His name was Kenny “Snake” Wilson.  Someone in UP management must have awakened suddenly with a night terror after a bad dream because it was suddenly decided that a video should be made of Snake explaining how to operate a rotary.  Accordingly, in the middle of summer, UP rolled a “super set” of rotaries up the mountain with Snake and a video crew on board.

 

Snake called Jim because he thought The Bear would like to know about the movement.  Jim, in turn, called me with the news and I hurried over to Bowman to take a couple of photos.  After this half-hearted effort the rotaries were returned to Roseville where they sat with their brothers until March of 2011.

 

The winter season of 2010-2011, prior to March, had already delivered more than average snowfall in the Sierra, but the storms had been spaced such that UP was able to keep up.  Then in March the “humble pie” was finally served in the form of several storms that came one on top of the other, completely overwhelming the UP snow fighting strategy.  The railroad was lost!  I turned on my scanner and heard nothing.  No dispatcher 74.  No detectors. Just silence.  It was eerie.

 

In Roseville UP buckled up a super set of rotaries with about 16,000 horses of motive power (twice as much as necessary) and sent it on its way up the hill, loaded with amateurs for an operating crew.  It wasn’t long before they succeeded in derailing the rotary on the east end of the set.

 

Jim was relaxing at home when the phone rang.  It was the UP foreman in charge of the plow train, asking for advice. This had to be a sweet moment for Jim. During their conversation the UP man said that when things were back to normal he wanted Jim to come teach them the fine art of plowing snow with a rotary.  Jim not-so-gently reminded him that had they listened to him back when he was still a UP employee then this would have been done at no extra charge. But now it was going to cost them a consulting fee of at least $150 per hour.  The UP man said they would be happy to pay whatever was charged.

 

When Jim told me about this phone call, the first thought I had was a question. Why hadn’t the UP foreman offered Jim amazing wealth if he would just come up right then and provide on-the-job training?  What better way to learn how to use the rotaries than in a real situation?  Oh well.

 

The next day I was again listening to nothing on the scanner when suddenly the silence was broken:  “Dispatcher 74 to SP 209 west.  Did you say there is a tree down on the track?”

 

This was indeed a special moment.  Here it was 15 years after UP had taken over the SP, and now the UP dispatcher in Omaha, Nebraska, was required to use the SP reporting marks to communicate with the rotary crew.  It was as if the UP was summoning the ghost of the SP to come rescue their sorry behinds. The only thing that would have made it better would have been the voice of Jim Mahon answering the call.

 

Anyway, I could only hear the dispatcher’s side of the conversation because SP 209 west was too far away from my Auburn location, but that was enough for me to figure out what was going on.  The rotary that had not derailed was now returning to Roseville for servicing and a crew change.  They had encountered a tree on the track somewhere near Alta and their attempts to shove the tree aside had failed.  They were asking for someone to be sent with a chain saw.  A while later I heard that the tree had been removed and that SP 209 west was rolling again.

 

I called Jim and he said, “Let’s go.”

 

Our first stop was Colfax.  We decided not to go further up the mountain for fear of passing the 209.  While we were waiting Jim visited with a UP employee who was there and I had a conversation with another waiting rail fan who turned out to be an Amtrak engineer on the California Zephyr.  He was off work because the Zephyr had been annulled at Reno.

 

Also, while we were waiting my cell phone rang.  It was my son, Mike.  He had gone to a rail fan chat room on the Internet where all of the buzz was about the rotaries being pressed into service. In the course of the conversation someone wondered if The Bear was interested and maybe had an opinion about what was going on.  Someone else responded with something like this: “Naw. For him it was just a job and he’s retired now.  I am sure he couldn’t care less.”

 

I asked Mike if he had straightened them out.  He said that he did not because he felt uncomfortable about it. The boy was always a little shy about things like that.  I said something like, “Well, it’s too bad they can’t see Jim now, standing here with camera in hand waiting to take pictures of a machine with which he is more familiar with than any other living man on earth.”

 

Soon SP 209 west appeared and we took our photos and then it was off to Weimar for a repeat performance.  Our next stop was Clipper Gap where we found two UP signal maintainers waiting in their truck.  One got out and walked over to where we were standing.  He greeted us and told us that a rotary snow plow was coming. And, then he launched into a description of the rotaries and how they are used and operated.  I stood there wondering how long it would be before Jim exploded.  Finally, he just said, rather quietly, “Well, my name is Jim Mahon.”

 

This signal man literally jumped back a couple of feet and his mouth fell open and then he said, “You are a legend!  We still talk about you on the railroad.”

 

They then engaged in deep conversation about common railroad friends from times of yore.  Meanwhile I took my best photo yet of SP 209 west as it rolled by.  In fact, it was a great photo!  Dick Dorn would be proud.

 

The signal man returned to his truck and as we drove away I could only imagine the conversation that was going on in the cab of that truck.

 

“You’ll never guess who I just met.  The Bear!”

 

“Listen Hal, you have got to stop lyn’ about stuff like that.  Everyone knows he’s retired now and it was just a job for him anyway.  You expect me to believe that Jim Mahon is out here taking photos of the rotary like some stinking rail fan?  Come on!”

 

 

Canning At The Cannery

 

The LDS Church owns canneries all over the world.  All of the workers in these canneries are volunteers, most of which are members of the Church.  Most of the canned goods produced are not for sale.  Instead they are distributed for free to help the poor and needy.  One such cannery can be found on 24th Avenue in Sacramento.

 

The cannery schedules production based upon when they think various fruits and vegetable will be harvested.  They then put out a request for a certain number of volunteer workers from each ward in the cannery district for the scheduled production dates.  So, in the Auburn 2nd Ward Sunday church service there will be an announcement that a certain number of people are needed at the cannery on a specified date and time to can tomatoes, for example.  Often it is retired folks who respond to weekday requests and since Jim and I are both retired we are often there together.

 

On one occasion it was indeed tomatoes that were to be canned.  Jim and I and several others were assigned to screen the tomatoes as they came in off the arriving trucks.  Our group was seated on both sides of a moving conveyer belt which was about two feet wide.  The arriving tomatoes were loaded onto this belt and as they passed where we were seated, our job was to remove anything that was not a good looking tomato. This included dirt, stems, bad tomatoes, and anything else that didn’t belong.

 

On each side of this wide conveyer there was an additional belt which was about four or five inches wide.  These two narrow belts were moving in the same direction as the wide belt, but at about twice the speed.  It was into the narrow, fast moving belt on our side that we were to deposit debris. Those sitting across from us deposited debris into the narrow, fast moving belt on their side.  Got the picture?

 

At first this seemed pretty easy.  Both Jim and I believe strongly in doing a job right and so we were very determined to not let anything get past us.  Unfortunately, nobody told us that staring at those two belts, moving at different speeds, can cause motion sickness after a while. Which is why, after about two hours, I started feeling a little dizzy.  However, there was no way I was going to admit I was having a problem. I’m a tough guy!  And, the world’s toughest guy was sitting right next to me. I took a deep breath and kept at it. Only two more hours to go.

 

After another hour of this I decided I had to take a break.  Barfing all over the incoming tomatoes probably wouldn’t be a good thing.  As I was walking around, trying to settle my insides down a bit, I bumped into George, the cannery manager.  I explained my problem to him and he told me this happens all the time on that job. He said I should try not looking at the faster moving conveyers.  Now he tells me.

 

After a few more minutes I was feeling much better and decided to go back to my post.  Jim’s seat was empty.  After a few minutes he showed up with a sheepish look on his face and said something like, “I wasn’t feeling so good.  I think those belts moving like that were messing with my head.”

 

Well, we had a good laugh about how we had both tried to hide the fact we were getting sicker by the minute.  Boy, were we glad when that shift was over and ever since then we were sure to volunteer for any job in the cannery but the screening job!

 

 

A Hi-Rail Trip

 

One January day our home phone rang.  It was Jim Mahon and he said, “Grant, how would you like to go for a hi-rail ride?”

 

I said, “I’m ready right now!”

 

He said, “Okay, I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 4:00 AM.”

 

That night I slept about as much as a young boy on Christmas Eve.  It was slightly embarrassing that a grown man of 60-something could be that excited about something as simple as a hi-rail trip . . . with The Bear . . . for over 60 miles.

 

I had learned that Jim is always early for everything by at least 15 minutes, so I was ready to go by 3:40 AM. Sure enough, about 5 minutes later he pulled into our driveway and off we went in the rain.  Our destination was Schellville which is about 100 miles west of Auburn.

 

Jim explained that at 6:00 AM we would be meeting a couple of Northwestern Pacific Railroad (NWP) employees at the Schellville depot.  From there we would ride with them in their hi-rail truck to Windsor where we would begin our tour on the NWP back to Schellville.

 

Several months earlier the NWP had agreed to pay Jim’s hourly consulting fee and expenses if he would come inspect their property and tell them what they needed to do to bring the railroad up to Federal Railroad Administration (FRA) standards for 40 MPH running.  Jim did so and the NWP claimed to have made the specified repairs.  The purpose our trip, on that wet morning, was to perform a mock FRA inspection of the line with Jim playing the role of FRA inspector.

 

We arrived in the Schellville area early enough to stop and get something to eat and then it was on over to the depot where we met Tom and Frank, the NWP employees in charge of maintenance of way (MW). The hi-rail truck was an extended cab pick-up.  Tom was in the driver’s seat and Jim was up front in the passenger’s seat.  Frank and I were in the back seat.  It was dark and raining as we headed for Windsor.

 

The conversation was mostly centered on NWP track issues with general railroad talk on the side.  I would occasionally ask a question or two when there was a lull in the discussion. It was probably about 7:30 AM when we arrived in Windsor.

 

As we drove west on Windsor River Road we came to the intersection with Windsor Road.  The NWP line cuts right through the middle of this intersection at a 45 degree angle.  Tom drove into the left turn lane and waited for the green arrow.  Then instead of turning left down Windsor Road, he went half way to a U-turn which lined us up on the railroad in the middle of eastbound Windsor River Road.  Tom then hydraulically dropped the guide wheels onto the rails, hooked up the steering wheel so it couldn’t move, and stepped on the gas.  Off we went down the track.

 

As soon as we were no longer blocking traffic on Windsor River Road, we came to a stop and Tom turned to Jim and said, “Okay, Mr. FRA Inspector, tell us what you see.”

 

As we rolled down the railroad at maybe 10 or 15 MPH, Jim would occasionally say, “Stop!”

 

We would all pile out of the truck and Jim would show us some problem that could draw the attention of the FRA inspector.  The three of them would talk about how serious it was and what could be done.  Then we would all get back in the truck for a repeat performance a little further down the line.

 

It was during these exercises that I came to my own conclusion as to why it’s called a hi-rail truck.  When you open the door to get out it’s a ways down to trackside, even in flat territory. If the track happens to be on a fill when you open the door then, if you are not careful, that first step can be lethal. And then there is getting back into the truck in this circumstance.  Where was the porter with his step stool?  Maybe it should be called a VERY hi-rail truck.

 

It was interesting to watch Jim acting in his profession.  It became very clear that his knowledge of track and roadbed is extensive.  In addition, his understanding of FRA rules and regulations was apparent.  It also was obvious that these seasoned railroaders, Tom and Frank, viewed Jim with great respect.

 

The rain had turned into a very wet fog that limited visibility somewhat. We, of course, had our headlights on. As I peered down the track I thought I could see a headlight coming toward us through the fog.  I blurted out, “I thought you said there were no trains on this line!”

 

They all reassured me that there were no trains running and that the headlights we were seeing belonged to another hi-rail truck.  They informed me that there is a “joint powers board” called Sonoma-Marin Area Rail Transit (SMART) which is investigating the possibility of running commute trains on this line.  They were sure the oncoming hi-rail truck belonged to them.  I was still a little uneasy.

 

Soon we were nose to nose with the other hi-railer. Tom got out and had a little conference with the SMART boys, after which we backed up until we cleared the points of the last switch we had passed a few minutes ago.  This switch was spiked because it led to a customer spur that was no longer in service.  Frank got out, pulled the spike, and aligned the switch for the spur.  Off we went toward the weeds far enough to clear the main. After the SMART boys had passed, we backed up, re-spiked the switch, and continued on our way.

 

Things were being said in our truck about the boys from SMART that were not particularly flattering.  In fact, if only half of what I heard about them is true, then I figure they must all wear slip on shoes because they would have no idea what to do with a shoelace.

 

There were a couple of interesting procedural tidbits that are worth mentioning.  We followed traditional railroad practice of sounding the proper horn signals before each movement.  That is, Tom tooted the horn twice before moving forward and three times before moving in reverse.  Our hi-rail truck was not equipped to trigger grade crossing signals.  So, we would come to a stop at each crossing and wait for a break in the traffic and then zip across.  Occasionally, some alert motorist would see us sitting there and stop to allow us to cross.

 

One crossing was much more difficult because there was a lot of high speed traffic.  Frank mumbled something about taking his life in his hands and jumped out with a hand held stop sign.  Fortunately, there was a crossroad with a traffic signal about 600 feet from the railroad crossing.  Frank waited until the signal stopped the highway traffic and then jumped out into the middle of the road, waving his stop sign and arms like a wild man.  When it was clear that approaching traffic was slowing down, we zipped across and Frank sprinted to join us.  He seemed very happy to still be alive.

 

By mid-morning we were in Santa Rosa.  We rolled to a stop just south of the Santa Rosa station, next to the Flying Goat Coffee shop. As we went in I noticed a number of people were looking us over.  I guessed that our means of travel had caught their attention.  I must admit that I enjoyed playing the role of the macho railroader for a few minutes.

 

The bubble didn’t last long.  As we rolled away after our break Frank asked me what railroad I had worked for.  With only a slight hesitation I responded, “The Dry Gulch & Last Chance.  It’s a short line.”

 

This is the name of my one eighth scale railroad that winds around our property in Auburn.  I immediately confessed that I had actually made my living as a small business owner, having nothing to do with railroading, and that the Dry Gulch & Last Chance (DG&LC) is a backyard railroad.  To my surprise, Frank seemed very interested in the DG&LC.  In response to his questions I told him that the maintenance problems are very similar to those faced by full scale railroads. Actually, I was flattered that he thought I must have worked for some railroad because it meant that from our conversations he had concluded that my knowledge level was that of a professional.

 

I found Frank to be an interesting fellow.  He lives in Eureka or Arcadia and had worked as an MW man for the original NWP until it went out of business.  He then went back to school and became a high school math teacher.  However, when he was offered a significant MW position with the new NWP, he couldn’t resist returning to his first love.  I asked him which he liked best and without hesitation came the expected answer: Railroading! This is in spite of the nomadic life style. He lives out of a motel room in Petaluma during the week and returns home on weekends.

 

Our tour continued with inspections of track, trestles, two swing bridges, and one lift bridge.  We actually crossed the swing bridge over the Petaluma River, but had to use the road to get around the other swing bridge and the lift bridge.  Our top speed was 35 MPH. We stopped for lunch at Rossi’s Deli at Black Point Station.  Jim insisted on paying for my food as he had done throughout the day.

 

All too soon, our tour of the line came to an end when we reached the interchange point with the California Northern Railroad which is west of Napa Junction and east of Brazos Bridge.  We hit the highway for the trip back to Schellville where we said goodbye to Tom and Frank and headed for home.  We stopped at Café Delicious in Rocklin where I was actually able to persuade Jim to let me pay for dinner.

 

What a day!

 

 

 

 

Grand Opening At Cabela’s

 

One Monday evening at FHE, several of us men were visiting while we were eating dessert and someone mentioned that the Cabela’s store in Boomtown was having a grand opening during the week. Jim said he was planning on being there and invited us to go with him.  Ron Comstock and I took him up on the offer.

 

We had a fun day of looking at the great displays, buying stuff, and enjoying each others company.  It was very crowded in the store and there was a lot of testosterone flowing.  Then a funny thing happened.  I went over to the men’s room at some point and there was a line of men, out the door for a considerable distance.  There were no such delays for the women’s room.  As I was standing there in line a woman came up to me and said something like, “I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help enjoying the turnabout.”

 

I had a good laugh with her because I could see the irony of it all.

 

Jim, Ron and I spent a lot of time exploring the store together, but we also went our separate ways from time to time.  At one point I bumped into Ron when Jim was not near by.  I suggested to Ron that we chip in together and help buy fuel for Jim’s truck.  He agreed that this was a good idea.  Therefore, just as we entered the freeway, headed for home, I pulled out 10 bucks and offered it to Jim to help pay for fuel.  Before Ron had a chance to follow my lead Jim said, ”No way.  I’m just happy to have you guys along.”

 

I said, “Come on Jim, let us help out.  We had a good time together.  It’s not right that we shouldn’t help with the fuel.”

 

Jim said, “Well, I’m not taking your money!”

 

At this point in our friendship I had not yet learned that it is not wise to cross The Bear and being a little stubborn myself I said, “Well, I’ll just leave this 10 dollar bill sitting here on the seat when you drop me off and you can do with it as you please.”

 

Whoa, was that a mistake!  I found out real quick that this bear has claws.  I was sitting in the back seat behind Ron, but that didn’t stop Jim from turning and looking me right in the eye as he said, “Well, that would be the end of our friendship!”

 

Those were his exact words and I could tell he was definitely not kidding. Since I am only half as dumb as I look, I quietly put my 10 dollars away.  During this entire episode Ron had not said a word and I was not exactly happy about that.  Why hadn’t he come to my support?  Some time later I asked him that question.  His response was, “I am not stupid.”

 

Evidently he had already learned that crossing The Bear has consequences.

 

Those who know me well know that I do not like losing and that I have a long memory of such things.  And so it was, three years later that I finally achieved payback.

 

Jim had called to say he was sick and therefore needed me to go down to the cannery and pick up some items for distribution to people in Auburn, in fulfillment of his Church assignment. He was insistent that I take his truck, so with malice in my heart, I agreed.  On my way back from the cannery I stopped at a service station and filled both of the truck’s tanks to their capacity with diesel fuel.  I thought for sure he would discover what I had done and there would be consequences of unknown dimensions.  I never heard a word and our friendship did not end.  Of course he knows about it now, and that makes me worry a little.

 

 

An Adventure On The Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge

 

After the debacle which was the FHE group train trip to Sparks I figured that I would never again be asked to organize a trip on any kind, let alone a train trip.  Boy, was I ever wrong.  It wasn’t long before many in our FHE group were asking when we could do it again.  No doubt about it.  We had moved to the right town for retirement.  These people really like trains.

 

When I discovered that they even thought the car disconnecting from our train had been a fun experience, I came up with what I thought was a clever response. I would say, “Do you know how hard it was for me to arrange for that to happen?”

 

Still, I had no plans to organize something like that again.  Then one day I was visiting with the Mahon’s and Jim said he had never been for a ride on the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad (D&S), but had always hoped to do so.  I suggested that we do it next summer.  Nola had been listening in on our conversation and she said, “Yes!  And, let’s invite everyone along with us.”

 

How could I resist?

 

Eighteen of us arrived at the Iron Horse Inn (of course) in Durango, Colorado, on Thursday, September 17, 2009.  We sat out back on a picnic table watching a lone track worker with a tamper trying to raise a section of track.  We were hoping Jim would show up in time to tell us what this guy was doing, and maybe what he was doing wrong.  Anyway, that didn’t happen.  By the time Jim and Nola arrived, our MW man and his tamper were long gone.

 

The next morning after the hotel breakfast we all caught the shuttle to Durango station.  At some point before our train departed several of us, including Jim, went up front to examine our locomotive.  Let me just say that while Jim may argue that he is not a rail fan, he will readily admit that he loves steam.  In fact, when he was young man it was his dream to be a steam locomotive engineer. He was actually a fireman for a short period just before the diesels arrived.  Unfortunately, not as many engineers were required for the diesels and that spelled the end of young Jim’s hopes.  It was back to track, which was lucky for us and the SP.

 

It was a beautiful ride up to Silverton that day, with gorgeous scenery and wonderful companionship with best friends.  In Silverton we checked into our reserved accommodations in The Grand Imperial Hotel.  Some rooms were on the second floor and some on the third.  They all looked like something out of the Old West.  After checking in we went different ways to explore the town.

 

At first light the next morning I stuck my head out the window of our third floor room.  What a beautiful view!  I retrieved our camera and took several pictures.  Then I saw something that I shouldn’t be seeing.  It was a large plume of steam off to the south.  The last train should have returned to Durango last evening and it was way too early for the first train of the day to be here.  I got dressed and left my sleepy head wife still in bed.

 

Down on the street I headed for the Silverton station.  Looking down the track to the south I could see what looked like a complete D&S train backing toward me.  What was going on?  The train came to a stop with the engine just to the north of where I was standing.  A front end loader then topped off the supply of coal in the tender from a pile at trackside.  When this task was completed the engineer whistled off and the train disappeared around a curve about a mile to the south.

 

Later in the day I was visiting with a D&S employee at the station and she told me what had happened.  Yesterday’s last train was headed down the Animas River canyon when a rock slide blocked the tracks.  The train ahead of the blocked train had backed up to the slide and the passengers on the blocked train were walked around the slide and boarded onto the train that had backed up which then proceeded on to Durango in a very overcrowded condition.  The blocked train then backed to Silverton for the night while MW crews cleared the slide and repaired the track.

 

Later, when I was telling members of our group what had happened, I embellished the story a bit by saying that this was supposed to happen to our train, but the D&S had mixed up the dates.  I ended by saying, “Do you know how hard it was for me to arrange for that to happen?”

 

At least my wife thought it was funny.  Oh well.

 

Each of us had a great day in Silverton doing whatever we wanted.  Most of the women spent most of the time shopping. Most of the men spent most of the time exploring the area around the station and just sitting there telling stories that became better and better as the day wore on.  This activity was occasionally interrupted by a passing train. It was a very pleasant and beautiful day.

 

Finally, it was time to board our train and say goodbye to Silverton.  On our way back to Durango we passed through a very small community called Rockwood. It was here that Jim Mahon was leaning out of an open air car to take a photo and dropped his camera. Fortunately, the conductor on our train saw it happen and radioed the man in a track speeder that was following our train as a fire watchman.  He found the camera and radioed back that he would have it at the station in Durango.  Jim was very pleased that he was able to recover his camera and that it was still in working order.

 

The shuttle took us back to the Iron Horse Inn, marking the end of the railroad adventure part of our trip.  Excursions such as this one and many other things that our FHE group has done together have drawn us together in bonds of friendship that are almost like family.  When I was young I wondered how it was possible to have fun when you were old. Now that I am old, I am having more fun than at any other time in my life.  Actually, fun is probably not the right word.  I am enjoying life in a way that is far better than mere fun.

 

 

No Job Too Big or Too Small

 

One day a few male friends, including Jim Mahon, came over to see how construction of the Dry Gulch & Last Chance Railroad (DG&LC) was progressing.  As mentioned previously, the DG&LC is our one eighth scale backyard railroad.  One of our daughters, Sherri, and her husband, Ron, happened to be visiting from Utah with their children.  Ron had his camera out, taking pictures as we were inspecting the line.  Jim, of course, had a few suggestions and comments to make about my track work.

 

Later, as Ron and I were looking over the photos he had taken, one of them popped out at us as being similar to a photo of Jim that appeared on the cover of the April, 1987 issue of Trains Magazine.  Ron performed a little computer wizardry which brought the two photos together, side by side giving the following result:

 

 

 

 

 

Ron then added the caption, “No Job Too Big or Too Small.”

 

I don’t think Jim is including this with his resume.  I am just glad he didn’t send me a bill for his usual consulting fee.

 

 

A Gold Spike for The DG&LC

 

As the DG&LC was nearing completion, several members of our FHE group suggested that we have a ceremonial driving of a gold spike to mark the occasion. We all invited our children and grandchildren to the great event which would include soft drinks and food, popcorn and cotton candy, and Jim Mahon in charge of the barbeque.  Our property includes a small soccer field and a basketball hoop, so even teenaged grandchildren would have something to do.

 

On the designated Saturday in April of 2010, we had over 80 people show up, including 35 children.    We all gathered around the wooden trestle where I installed the last short rail segment. The final spike was presented by Steve Hardman who had previously applied gold paint to one of my scale spikes. A cheer went up as the “gold spike” was driven home and the first official train crossed the trestle.

 

There were little kids all over the play structure and on the swings and in the play house.  My wife calls it a play house.  Everyone else calls it a train station.  The train never stopped running as rides were provided for everyone.  Even the teenagers enjoyed themselves.

 

About a month later the Auburn Journal devoted almost an entire page to the story of the DG&LC, complete with several photographs.  During all of this attention I had not been able to persuade The Bear to go for a ride.  It seems like it was several months later that he finally consented, when no one else was around.  Afterward he said nice things about the quality of the ride, etc.  But, for me the ultimate compliment came several more months later when Jim and I were out back looking over a proposed extension. As we looked back over the existing line, which included a view of the trestle, he said something like, “You have built a nice railroad with good looking track.”

 

 

The Missing Finger

 

As you may know Jim lost the index finger on his right hand in a railroad accident, early in his career.  This missing finger has been the cause of some interesting reactions over the years. One such occasion came about when Rick Matson, Ron Comstock, Jim Mahon, and several others, including myself, had volunteered to do some work at the LDS girls camp near Sierraville.

 

It had not occurred to me that missing an index finger might make wearing a glove problematic.  So, it was a little shocking when Jim laid his gloved hand down on a picnic table, pulled out a knife and exclaimed in a loud voice, “I’m tired of this finger getting in the way!”

 

He then sawed off the offending finger of the glove.  Visually it looked like he was cutting his finger off.

 

Not long afterward several adult women leaders, on a camp tour, passed through the area where we were working.  As they were thanking us for what we were doing, I was thinking it was too bad that Jim’s amputation of the gloved finger had not happened while they were there.  There may have been a fainting or two, especially if we had of stuffed the finger of the glove with a ketchup packet.  Oh well.  Some opportunities are just missed.

 

 

Barbequing

 

Jim Mahon loves food preparation in general and barbequing in particular. He learned his basic cooking skills from his mother while he was growing up in Caliente, California.  Due to her heritage, it is no surprise that Jim serves Mexican food that only my wife can beat.  However, no one can beat his barbeque.  If you are guessing that my wife does not barbeque, you would be right.

 

Early in his railroad career Jim learned that good food in large quantities helped to motivate his men to work hard.  It also helped to develop their loyalty.  They were much more willing “to go the extra mile” when Jim asked because they knew they would be well fed.

 

In the early years track gangs were still living on the work trains that roamed the system.  These work trains included cars dedicated to food preparation and service for the workers. On one occasion Jim became unhappy with what was being served to his men and personally escorted the cooks to town for a lesson on what to buy and what not to buy at the local grocery store. The message was clear:  His men were to be fed what they wanted to eat, including plenty of meat, and they were to be fed until they were full.  No skimpy portions.  Unannounced inspections by The Bear ensured compliance.

 

This attitude continued when he became the roadmaster in Truckee.  When he was out with his crew fighting snow he always made sure there was plenty of hot coffee and sandwiches available on board.  He even made a special agreement with Brian Smart, the owner of The Wagon Train Restaurant in Truckee, to provide hot food for the snow fighters when called upon, day or night.  On many occasions Brian’s phone would ring in the very early morning hours.  It was Jim, calling from Norden to let him know the crew had completed their plowing and were hungry and were headed back down the mountain.  Brian would then get up, go down to his restaurant and prepare a complete meal for the railroaders who would soon arrive.

 

Needless to say, the loss of a finger in a railroad accident caused Jim to be very focused on safety.  After being promoted to Assistant Division Engineer-Track he instituted a program to reward his men for attention to safety.  You guessed it.  The reward involved food.  Not just any food, but a full barbeque of the best meat cooked by Jim himself.

 

As with any project, you need the proper tools.  So Jim asked friends who worked in the Roseville shops if they would build a barbeque grill and mount it on a trailer for him.  They found an old tank lying around the shop and with a little cutting and welding they produced a masterpiece.  It even has a brass builder’s plate that says, “Southern Pacific.”

 

At the time this barbeque-for-safety program was introduced there were about 25 to 30 serious injuries per year within the 11 districts for which Jim was responsible.  It wasn’t long before that number dropped to zero.  The program worked like this:  If a district went a month with not so much as a scratch then Jim would put on a barbeque in a local park for all of the men of the district and their families. These barbeques were clearly less expensive than the previous 25 to 30 settlements paid out per year.

 

When UP took over things changed.  Their managers thought it was much more efficient to just take the men to a restaurant for lunch and then get them right back to work.  These barbeques in the park were simply allowing employees to have way too much fun.  So, it was announced that the portable barbeque rig would be sold at auction, along with a lot of other SP stuff that was not compatible with the UP way of running a railroad. I think they just didn’t like anything that had “Southern Pacific” emblazoned on it.

 

In order to add injury to insult, UP had a policy that prevented employees from buying items sold at these auctions.  For a problem solver like Jim this was easy.  He simply had a friend go to the auction and bid on the barbeque. It turned out there were no other bidders so Jim became the new owner for $50!  He has been doing barbeques for large groups of people ever since.

 

There is no way I could accurately count the number of Mahon barbeques I have attended since moving to Auburn and I certainly have not attended all of them. Many of them have been for LDS Church socials.

 

There are several things you can count on when attending a Mahon barbeque.  First, there will be way more than enough food.  Nothing terrifies Jim more than the thought of running short on anything.  I think he would rather lose another finger!  Second, the meat will be the best quality available and considerable time will have gone into its preparation before it ever hits the grill. Third, there will almost always be a very large pot of Jim’s special chili beans.  Fourth, everything will taste great!  Fifth, you will likely overeat.  

 

On one occasion he was barbequing for a very large group of LDS people coming from many wards to celebrate Pioneer Day on the grounds of the Nevada City chapel.  Pioneer Day is an annual LDS holiday commemorating the first Mormon pioneers who entered the Salt Lake Valley on July 24, 1847.  As usual there was more than enough meat.  However, the crowd had taken a particular liking to Jim’s beans and it was beginning to look like there may be a shortage.  This was the first and only time I think I actually saw fear in Jim’s eyes. What can you say about a man who can handle a derailed rotary as if it was nothing more than a flat tire but is stricken with panic when the chili beans run a little low?  Answer: He’s human.

 

 

Love Your Neighbor

 

One of the most well known teachings of Jesus Christ is, “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.”

 

The LDS Church strongly promotes the idea that you cannot genuinely love anyone without a willingness to serve them.  If your love is just words then it is not love.

 

The Church itself provides many organized ways to help others. An example of this is the cannery that I mentioned previously. In addition to the organized opportunities, LDS people are encouraged to look for ways to help friends, neighbors, and strangers in any way possible.  We are far from perfect at it, but we keep trying to do better.

 

From what I have come to know about Jim Mahon, I would say he has been anxious to help others long before I met him.  So, when he became acquainted with the LDS Church, it was a natural fit.  He now volunteers for just about everything.

 

Let me give you a couple of examples.  Many people in the Sierra foothills heat their homes with wood and for some of those people obtaining a supply of fuel may not be possible, for whatever reason.  Someone in the ward will hear of wood that is available free for the taking but it is in the form of a tree or trees that need to be cut, split, and hauled.  A date is set and a bunch of us show up with chain saws, splitters, and trucks to do the job and deliver the ready-to-use wood to needy folks in our ward.  Jim is always there with his splitter and he works hard in spite of the fact that he is now well over 70 years old.  I occasionally try to get him to slow down a little or let someone else take over for a while.  I have about the same success rate at this as when I try to get him to take $10 for fuel when we go somewhere together.

 

Whether it’s a cannery assignment or an Eagle Scout project or setting up tables and chairs for an activity or helping a friend lay sod or cooking for a ward social or whatever, you can count on Jim Mahon being there and pushing others to keep up.  He sets an example for the rest of us.

 

However, Jim does get the tables turned on him when he is barbequing.  For every event there are always plenty of volunteers who are anxious to help, both with preparation and cooking.  Of course there is the side benefit of listening to a few railroad stories which almost always begin the same way: “I remember the time when . . .”

 

 

Runaway!

 

On November 9, 2006, at about 11 AM, a westbound rail grinding train lost braking power near Baxter on the Donner Pass line and became a runaway.  A few minutes later the last 6 cars of the 10 car train derailed doing 50 MPH on a 25 MPH curve, resulting in two crew members being killed and 8 others injured. The two who died had been frantically running from car to car trying to set hand brakes.

 

When I heard the news that day I called Jim.  His reaction to what I was telling him was anger directed toward the UP. It was way too early to know the exact cause of the runaway, but Jim was certain the underlying cause was UP’s lack of respect for The Mountain.  Specifically, he suspected they had allowed the grinding train to operate over The Hill without dynamic brakes.  It was SP policy to absolutely never allow any train on Donner without dynamic brakes and Jim had warned the new UP managers that changing this policy would get someone killed.

 

Guess what?  Jim was right.  The locomotives provided by the grinding train contractor were not equipped with dynamic brakes and UP failed to provide one of their own engines, so equipped, to act as a pilot.  Furthermore, the engineer provided by UP was young and had little, if any, mountain territory experience.  He actually pointed this out to his UP supervisor when he drew the assignment in Sparks.  He was told to go on anyway because all of the regular mountain engineers were unavailable at the time.  How experienced do you have to be to operate a 10 car train?  From what I have heard, that UP manager now has plenty of time to ponder the answer to that question.  Hey, the UP needed a scapegoat.

 

I can tell you one thing:  This was one, “I told you so,” that Jim definitely did not want.

 

 

The Adventure Continues

 

The stories presented here are just a few of the many experiences we have had with the Mahon’s.  Actually, I want to make it very clear that while Jim and I have done many things where it was just the two of us, our wives were also often involved and the friendship definitely includes Nola and Patricia.  In fact, each time I have returned from an adventure that did not include our wives, Patricia has been anxious to hear about what happened and I have been anxious to tell her.  I think I know who was more anxious.  

 

Some of the other things we have done together include replacing the brake shoes on the tool car of a steam powered big hook in Truckee, chasing a tie gang in the Truckee River Canyon, and tons of service projects.

 

Right now, the four of us are planning a train ride on the Cumbres & Toltec Scenic Railroad (C&T) for this coming July. When Jim was making his reservation on the Internet I was very interested to see how he would fill in the box telling the C&T how he had learned of their operation.  When he clicked on the box it offered a large menu of responses from which to choose.  He selected “railroad enthusiast” which was the same one I had selected.  Not a rail fan?  Ha!

 

To make it even more fun we will invite our entire FHE group to join us, but this time I am not going to organize anything.  They can all make their own reservations if they really want to go.  Besides, it would be just too hard for me to arrange for the thing to derail or something.

 

 

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