Mischief Along the Railroad

My interest in railroads began sometime in the 60’s. Where that interest comes from will be the subject of another posting. Sometime in about 1970 when I was 13, there were three of us (Randy, Leif and I) who rode our bikes up to the Chicago and North Western triple track mainline in Lombard, Illinois – about 5 or 6 blocks from where we lived. It was late in the day during the week so there were numerous lengthy commuter trains bringing workers home from Chicago to the suburbs. This did not deter us from walking right down the tracks while leaving our bikes at the station.

After walking about a quarter of a mile, one of us found a fusee - a railroad flare - lying on the ballast along one of the three tracks. Why it was there, we didn’t know. What it was for, we didn’t know. It had never been used.

Well, it hadn't been used until we lit the thing. Now, these things burn very hot and we found an empty soda can nearby and found that it could burn a hole in it quite easily. It was entertaining for a while but we left it behind to finish burning while we continued walking on down the tracks.

A little while later, here comes a man walking down the tracks towards us. When he gets close to us, he whips out his badge and identifies himself as a policeman with the C&NW police department. He said that he drove all the way from Chicago to find out what we were up to. He explained to us what fusees were for – emergencies that require trains to stop when sighted. He took our names down and gave us some well deserved scolding about the dangers of hanging out on railroad tracks – especially ones where trains go as fast as they sometimes did in Lombard. He also cautioned us about putting stuff on the tracks saying that even a penny can cause problems. He then told us that if we wanted to watch trains, which is what we were really interested in doing, that we should do it from the station platform or off railroad property. He realized that we were just kids who did not realize the meaning of the fusee and let us go on own way. He did tell us that he didn’t want to see our names come across his desk again.

Not feeling particularly guilty about all of this, we went back to the station and waited for another train or two. The train that went all the way to Clinton, Iowa on the center track came through a lot slower than usual that evening.

Then we went home and that is when we found out that the railroad cop had called our parents.

In 1980, when I actually went to work for the same railroad, the subject did not come up.