Southern Illinoisan from Carbondale, Illinois • Page 9

Carbondale-Herrln-Murphysboro-Marion SOUTHERN ILLINOISAN, FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 1982 Page. Nine Z7 Vf Fuelm on the GO Wli.MMiu, I L.1.1 .1,1,1. s' yv- A 1 i -y -y-, v-' it; Xf i x. v.3f if r--i dream -y xji running commentary as he shovels, glancing at the big pressure gauge, holding steady at a 175-pound head of steam. "A steam locomotive, is the only machine that lets you regulate not only how much fuel you use, but how it's being used," he says, rattling off a quick dissertation on the system of valves that fine-tunes raw steam into motive force.

"Steam is gonna make a comeback, you watch. Something goes wrong on a steam engine, you just roll up your sleeves, get in and fix it. With a diesel, you have to call in a technician with an electronic box just to figure out what's wrong. And it's economical. Coal is the only fuel that you can bum as a solid, just as it comes out of the ground.

It's cheap. We use Illinois coal, buy it from local suppliers." Chuck Sr. is a talker. Shovel, talk. Shovel, talk He laughs when asked why a steam engine is such a compelling machine.

"Maybe because it's just about the biggest thing there is that moves." OK, so maybe there are larger things in the world than a locomotive, but stand on the ground next to one as it spits hot steam, and see if it doesn't feel bigger. "There were two things that I ever wanted to do. One was to be a printer, which I did. But mainly I always wanted to work on the railroad." Now he's done both. "I don't know it's hard work.

Dirty work." He wipes his brow and smiles and it's not necessary to wonder if he'd rather be behind a printing press. Before he took leave of Chicago, Chuck Sr. had been involved with the from its inception in the fall of 1972, putting up money and offering whatever help he could from a distance. The story of the has been well documented. Begun as a tourist train, the road gained prominence in 1977 when it took over freight operations on an 8-mile spur about to be abandoned by Illinois Central Gulf, serving businesses on the west side of Marion.

Today, the tourist trade is gone and the is the, only freight-hauling railroad in America that still runs steam locomotives. It's been called The Little Railroad -By Kelly Vanlaningham "Of The Southern lllinoisan isn't a train I wouldn't take, 1 No matter where it's going. Edna St. Vincent Mlliay There is something in a train that -makes children of us all. When steam locomotives roamed the land, a man wearing grease- wStriped coveralls lived within every small boy.

The thin, skirling howl of va steam whistle in the night held the 'promise of adventure and faraway places wandering the land atop twin steel rails. The diesels of today hold a majestic fascination, but the romance of. the railroad began with steam engines. Beaten back by the diesel tide of the late 1940s and '50s, they are now virtually extinct in the united States. A few tourist lines still operate, and special trains sometimes haul camera-toting railroad buffs on a trip to the past, but steam power is gone.

With one Steam dies hard, and so do the dreams of small boys. "Ever since I was a kid, I'd pretty well made up my mind that I wanted to be a railroader." Childhood ambitions come and go and are forgotten with the wind, but, at 25, Chuck Roehm Jr. has worked as a railroad engineer for nearly seven years. A steam engineer, by God, and he wouldn't have it any other way. "I wouldn't trade 'em for anything.

With the diesel, maybe you still get the challenge of operating the train and making your switching moves efficiently, but you don't have that challenge of firing the engine properly, of controlling how much "steam you need. With a diesel you might as well be driving some big truck." Chuck got his dream early. His father had to wait awhile. Until a year and a half ago, Chuck Roehm Sr. was a printer in Chicago.

Now 50 years old, he stands shoveling coal on a crisp January afternoon, feed--ing the firebox of Crab Orchard and 'Egyptian Railroad engine No. 17. His craggy face smeared with black dust and grease beneath a snug green 'stocking cap, he tosses fire to 115 'tons of rolling steel. He keeps up a i 'I Hi I x- If X- ff Ai; "Jf 0J- x- stii '( xf KZ? (t-Vn Wli qinwwi.ji.tw..ut)) ff- $, "1 i il Ii 1 1 1 1 mi 1 1, i inn I. 8 I 1 1 'v, Aiiv- x-XxX A xV Vi Xx X' J)xi.

XV. f7W', i V'vv xt -1 Mt xJ 'y' vo r. Jv-f "Vv V-Cxj -s iyg vx 's 1 1 1 iY Ii I ill ill 1 1 II -1 1 miniiiMii imiiiiliiiffffl t'lf That Could. Profiled in Newsweek magazine, transformed into a two-minute bit on the national news, the line's owners and employees have grown accustomed to newsmen poking about, barely noticing the photographers' clicking shutters. Steam engines alone are enough to attract curious railfans, especially the last freight-hauling steam power in America.

But the real hook, the grabber for the media has been the Horatio Alger fairy tale flavor of the story. Who could resist the rags-to-respectability tale of a few train buffs working hand-in-hand with city government and small business, taking a handful of "obsolete" machines, a stretch of unwanted track and turning the whole shebang into a railroad? It's the tale of a scrappy underdog clawing its way to a piece of the dream. After a decade the still looks chewing-gum-and-baling-wire on the outside, but it's strictly business underneath. If his father is a talker, Chuck Jr. might be called taciturn.

If he realizes how special his job is, he doesn't act it. Dad states flatly, "He's good," but the son doesn't seem to near. He's busy shuffling box cars around the yard, softly nudging the couplers together. Give him a few more years, a few wrinkles and furrows on the face and he'll fit the classic mold of the grizzled engineer. He may even become gruff.

Cool, remote, with a dry, Gary Cooper grin and a gentle, loving touch on the controls. He spent the summer between his junior and senior years in high school working on the and came in full time as soon as he graduated. He's a veteran now, dropping off a short string of tank cars at Hul-bert Oil Co. about a mile out of the yards. Chuck Sr.

is outside, throwing the switch points, locking down couplers and giving hand signals to his son. Chuck Jr. munches a sandwich and sips coffee, idly putting the 42-year-old Canadian-built 2-8-0 through its paces between bites. Lunchtime on a working locomotive. Full tankers must be picked up and several empties dropped off at the oil company.

There's a clinker in the job an empty in the middle of the string of loaded cars. And the customer has asked that the cars be left in a particular order. It slows things up and suddenly Chuck Jr. lets loose with what passes for a lengthy conversation. "You don't get service like this from one of the big railroads.

You tell them you want the tank cars in a certain order and they'll tell you exactly where you can put your tank cars A very, very droll grin. sideways." At his age, some people still wonder what they want to be when they grow up, and most have at least a few doubts about the wisdom of their career choices, but Chuck Jr. is doing exactly what he's always wanted to da A good portion of the run from the yards to the end of the line behind SI Bowl near Carterville is uphill. No. 17 huffs and puffs its way against the stiff 3-percent grade, with Chuck Sr.

tossing in shovelfuls of coal one right after the other. Each push of the engine's big cylinders makes a ponderous, stately whoosh. Through the firebox doors, the glow of the fire xxxxx' x. 1 fx xx 's Axs xx, 'x. Southern Engine No.

17 of the wonder that you hear it at all. A thick column of white steam shoots upward each time' Chuck Jr. hangs on the whistle cord, droplets of water drizzling down the oily black sides of the boiler. The train passes below a Burlington Northern overpass and into a wooded area. The steamer reaches the crest of the grade and begins to descend, winding into a curve.

Twenty miles an hour seems much quicker among the empty trees. With the leaves gone, cars can be seen flashing past on the distant highway, hurrying up to take care of business. But it's hard to imagine going any faster than you already are. x-xO xXW i I- -v 4 i x- -'m J' brightens and dims with each rush of steam. The engine is breathing.

Chuff chuff "That's why they call 'em choo-choos," says Chuck Sr. "Kids today don't know that; all they've ever heard is diesels." But it's the sad cry of the whistle that most clearly defines a steam locomotive, with as many different shades as a human voice. The diesel horn's deep baritone blasts you, warns you to stand clear; the steam whistle calls and enchants, promises to take you to a place you've never been before. Inside the cab, the sound hurts the ears at first, wavering and shifting, pitching so high you I 7 Tx 'x 1 "v- XX I i 5 Hr' i 'v i I WwiiM4i-i i' (1 p- fx -W 'xVVSAx4xx x'fe i yf v'v' A Ws 's xX llllrtolsan photo by JOHN McCUTCHEM Crab Orchard and Egyptian heading up the line The open cab of a steam locomotive in winter is a very cold place to be, even when it's 40 degrees outside. The roaring firebox keeps the legs uncomfortably warm, but- the wind smacks the face like a frozen washrag.

The engine rattles bounces over the rough track like: a lumber wagon on an Illinois highway. A white shirt is the wrong thifjg to wear unless you happen to IjKeUhe way it contrasts with the soot staiiis. Stray cinders catch watering eyes and that blasted whistle just, seenjs to bore right into the center of brain. What better way to spend an afternoon and chase a few dreams? on the future. They dwell, in a void called "meanwhile." There have been many explana-: tions offered for the meaning of the-play.

Some critics say it is a meta- phor for life; the unseen Mr. Godot: a metaphor for God or fate of sal-; vation or simply meaning in llle. The choices for interpretation are' both multiple and individual." One: critic described it as "an unfiriish-; ed canvas with brushes and paints-set beside it. If you are intrigued-by it, stimulated by it, you pick up? the brushes and add your own-strokes your own thought and; meaning to it." This production is directed byi Alan Schneider, who directed the; first American production of Beck-: ett's masterpiece in 1956 andlwho: has directed the premieres qf. all-Beckett's plays In America.

"It's about mankind," Schneider: has saioV "alone and waiting, filling; in the time with the most mar-: velous collection of possibilities and; relationships." Admission is S5, all seats re-; served. The auditorium box office" is open Monday through 11:30 a.m. to 6 p.m. I 'X -y 0 4 A Weekend highlights 'Waiting for Godo stotle and Groucho Ah fj Chuck Roehm Sr. shovels coal into the firebox Paducah Symphony Orchestra will present Eldon Matlick, horn soloist, at 8: 15 p.m.

Saturday, Feb. 20, in Jetton Auditorium in Paducah. Tickets are available at the box office before the concert For information, call 443-9578 or 443-6665. Sun FILM: The film Behind Greenfield Village will be presented at 2 p.m. Sunday, Feb.

21, in the Sheldon Swope Art Gallery In Terre Haute, Ind. SWIMMING: Recreational swimming is conducted from 7:30 to 9 p.m. Monday, Wednesday and Friday at the Jackson County Family YMCA, Carbondale. Any child under 5 years old must be accompanied by an adult. Recreational swims also run from 12:30 to 2:30 p.m.

Saturdays and from 2 to 4 p.m. Sundays. Sst Moil yj yr Today RECITAL: Marianne Webb, professor of music and university or- ganist, will present a faculty re-. cital at 8 p.m. today in Shryock Auditorium at Southern Illinois University-Carbondale.

The recital is free and open to the public. PLAY: Sam Shepard's Buried Child will be presented at 8 p.m. today, Saturday and Sunday, Feb. 19-21, in the LABoratory Theater in the Communications Building on the Southern Illinois University campus. General admission tickets are $2 and are available at the McLeod Theater Box Office.

For more information concerning tickets, call 453-3001. WRESTLING: International Championship Wrestling will be held at 8:30 p.m. today at the Johnston City High School gymnasium. Tickets are $6 for ringside and $5 for general admission. Children under 12 will be admitted for $3.

SQUARE DANCING: The Phoenix Square Dance Club will dance at 8 p.m. at Mary's Hall, 402 Freeman Anna. Admission is $5 per couple. Bill Volner will call. John Houseman's The Acting Company will present Samuel Beckett's tragicomic play, Waiting For Godot, at 8 p.m.

Tuesday, Feb. 23, in Southern Illinois University-Carbondale's Shryock Auditorium. Waiting For Godot has been described as one of the most important works of the 20th century, as "something of Aristotle's philosophy performed by the Marx brothers," and a "philosophic quiz show." When Beckett (who later won the Nobel Prize for literature) wrote Godot in 1952, he abandoned traditional dramatic structure and plot development. Instead he wove his theme into a kind of rough poetry that tumbles forth, sometimes as conventional dialogue and sometimes more in the of choral readings. Beckett's play is set on a desolate plain, somewhere between here and there.

Two tramps, Vladimir and Estragon, are waiting for a certain Mr. Godot, who presumably will give a sense of purpose and direction to their lives. Human memory being what it is, the tramps have the dimmest recollections of the past, and only vague speculations 'x Vx.