Does this seem like a good day for some odd or unusual?

Question

work place stories?

I ask this in railroad forum because that's what I do, any stories or tall tales are welcome, I will let it go to the voters for BA.

Everytime rails get together someone seems to tell a humorous story and someone else has an add-on to that one or a different one.

The people here and their imaginations are one of the things that make this a good job. (tolerable at least)

This is NOT chatting, it is legitimate research for a college thesis, if I ever go to college that is.

Answer 1

Graffiti on freight cars and on structures in railway yards is an old story, right from the railroad’s inception.  Hobos left their moniker here and there, employees added their touch in the annals of railroad lore as well.

A lot of what appears today is more often than not gang-banging taggers putting their name out for all to see.  In large part, these are illegible.  Others offer up a colorful mosaic of letters or words, while still others qualify as an art form, with some outstanding results, considering done in a spray paint medium.

Some of the graffiti added to rolling stock by employees is regional, while other tags are recognized all over the country, particularly by long time rails and by railfan observers, by whom little goes unnoticed.

There are the obscure, to be sure, but there are many graffiti taggers who have made a mark, of sorts, as their scribbling is indeed recognizable and, in at least one instance, a nationally recognized bit of side of boxcar literary and artistic purport.  From time to time, you’ll still see one roll past as you wait for a train to clear the highway grade crossing you are being held at for the train to clear.

Some of the more notable; “Ozone”, “D-KID,” “Bozo Texino”, “Easy Honey”, “Charlie Brown”, “Coal Train”, as well as a host of others, either with or without an accompanying illustration.  But, there is one more famous than all, simply called, “Herbie.”  This depicted a man in a sarape and a sombrero, leaning against a palm tree, obviously taking a siesta.  So wide spread was this emblem that manufactures of scale model freight cars and detailing parts include decals of a scale “Herbie” as a part of their product line.

There is what can be described as “regional” graffiti as well. Not so well known snippets and doodle-ings, something more like an inside joke or practical joke, rarely criss-crossing the country, perhaps on cars in assigned service pools.

The latter part of the 1980s saw the familiar caboose yet at the end of SP’s freight trains, but everyone knew they were not long to be scrapped. Volume of traffic was increasing but everything was running fairly well, though bottlenecks lasting two or three days here and there were not uncommon, and for periods of time, things were quite crazy..  Then, one day, Tarzan showed up for work.

Well, he didn’t, but his most notable stock in trade, the “Tarzan Yell” did.  It seems Tarzan’s “jungle timbre” vocalizations were riding the rails on a cassette tape, replaying on a cheap cassette player, with a radio transmission orchestrated by an individual known but to himself and God, at the time.  It became a manhunt for the culprit.

Why the desperate search for dastardly individual?  Well, for one thing, it is illegal, violating many company rules governing transmission of radio communications.  For another, many of these rules are there because they are required by Law as set forth by the Federal Communications Commission.  In addition, not long before Tarzan started hitching rides, the company had been written up on several violations in this particular category, so all line level officers had gotten their marching orders right from the top: “Tarzan must die.”

This launched one of the greatest “cat and mouse” games in the annals of railroading.  The rules of the game were simple. “ If we catch you, we’re going to fire you.”  And the game was afoot.

he Trainmaster at Dunsmuir and the Road Foreman of Engines at Klamath falls were wholly committed to the arrest, capture and execution of “Jane’s” mate.  Though not played to excess, and never when any were using the radio for switching moves, Tarzan usually arrived on the scene when conditions had brought operations to a near standstill, and a little levity would go a long way.  It was all the more fun since everyone knew of the “clash of Titans,” though it could be more appropriately have been called, “irresistible force meets immoveable object.”

A full frontal attack had yielded zero.  But, the intrepid officers still had ammunition to continue the quest, in the form of a computer screen and keyboard.  Whenever Tarzan made a radio cameo appearance that caused both the hackles and ears of the immediate superiors raise and perk up, respectively, fingers were immediately punching the keys necessary to find out what trains were within radio range and, more important, the men manning them.  One name gradually became common as it happened to be in the vicinity during each of Tarzan’s visits.  The name was that of a conductor named Doyle Lancaster.

The cyber-detectives had now identified their quarry and, at this point, needed only to catch him with the evidence.  A major attempt was mounted to rid the air waves of Tarzan’s call of the wild.

For some time, this conductor that had been identified as he most likely to be Tarzan’s host, had a tail on him, lurking in the bushes, around corners, hidden in the shadows, waiting to pounce.  Then it happened.  One wild night at Black Butte, the western end of the Siskiyou Branch and always busy with through freight making set outs and pickups both, had one too many trains at that location, with Amtrak in the picture in a couple of hours.  Of course these were the perfect conditions for another encore of Tarzan’s rendition.  And show he did.  The bait taken, the hunters boarded the caboose, hungry for red meat.

They tore the caboose apart, checking each nook and cranny, certain to find the infernal machine that had been keeping them awake at night, plotting.  They found nothing.  The conductor told them to look in his grip, if they wished.  They did.  They came up empty on all accounts.  Feeling beaten, though no where near defeated, they left, surely laying their next plan of attack.  

The cassette player, and the evidence within, had been placed inside the paper towel holder in the john by the intended prey.

But then, through ultimate subterfuge, and getting in through the back door, a phone call was made by the Trainmaster to the conductor’s home.  Finding him absent, he struck up a friendly conversation with the man’s wife.  

After a short time, this question was asked, almost as a second thought by tone of voice, “Say, Donna.  Does Doyle ever play that Tarzan tape  at home?”

Came the reply, “Oh yes, and it drives me crazy!  He’s like a little kid.”

Ka-Waaang!   The trap had snapped shut.  But, it turned out to be a good thing.  None of it would stand up in a formal investigation, however it was suggested to the conductor that Tarzan should return to obscurity.  He did.

Answer 2

You're looking good dude, hope  your summer is going well.

I have a railroad story for your research.

A railroad I used to work on had a tri-weekly local, out to the away from home terminal (in this case Great Falls, Montana)one day, a rest period and back home the next day. The job that got there on Saturday evenings usually tied up early enough that the crew could go out and have a decent dinner and maybe even have a cold one (or two). Then on Sunday morning we would go on duty headed home.

Well, early one summer Sunday morning we were heading home on a tonnage train with two GP-9s, which as I remember would have been around 30 C6 grain cars.

If you've ever been on the old jeeps (as we called them) they had a high nose compartment which housed tool racks and the toilet.

No center windows in the cab so you could only see straight ahead and to the right, but never to the left.

The head brakeman's name was Dave and between the two of us we were sharing a pretty good hangover (I was MUCH younger then).

Dave decided he needed to brush his teeth to try and restore life to his mouth so he is on the left side of the cab brushing away and I hear him say "op, OP!! UMPIT! UMPIT!!"

Not being sure exactly what he was trying to say I took the safe route and set 90 pounds, all at once.

Turns out that was the very thing he had in mind as he was struggling through a mouthful of toothpaste to say DUMP IT!!

(railroad talk for emergency brake application)

We were starting into a left hand curve at the bottom of a long fill and I could not see the track ahead of us for the high nose.

The bridge at the bottom of the fill had washed out during a flash flood the night before and the north rail and most of the ties were hanging over a big hole, we would have rolled over had we gone another 50 yards.

No damage done, we backed up, got a pilot engineer and detoured over the BN tracks and even made it to Lewistown on our hours of service.

Would have been a thrilling ride down the bank though.

Edit: Rat, yeah, grafitti is pretty creative at times, some of those guys could be making a living as graphic artists. I hadnt seen bozo Texino for a long time. Coal Train I see almost every day with the accompanying face, he must be one busy guy. Railroad graphitti would actually be a good subject for a book.