Since I first became aware of the existence of trains, I have always had a love and appreciation of them. I was born in 1953, and spent the first 14 years of life growing up in Concord, California. In 1957, my parents purchased their second home in that town on Graney Court, off Risdon Road. Even as a four-year-old, I realized that there was some sort of freight depot behind our house, and that every once and a while, a train would stop there. That train belonged to the Sacramento Northern Railway.
My older brother, Ken, and I would routinely disobey my parents' admonitions that we were not allowed anywhere near the track, and would oftentimes put pennies on the track to flatten them. We were pretty naive then, and always worried what would happen if our pennies ended up derailing the train. But being boys, we did it anyway, and thankfully, we never did find ourselves having to explain to our parents how we derailed the train.
At that time there was also a wig-wag signal at the nearby Oak Grove Road crossing. I used to love watching it go back and forth when we were lucky enough to have to stop our car and wait for the train to go by.
For years, Ken and I would run across the field to be close to the train whenever we heard the train coming. We collected spikes, rail plates, insulators, . . . anything and everything we could find along the tracks. One of our favorite pastimes was collecting those telephone pole nails that had the year date on them. Needless to say, we had many hours of fun, ignoring our parents' rules about keeping away from the train.
I also remember a large manure pile next to the station. When I asked my father about this, he recalled, "I remember that it was all I could do to keep you two boys from jumping off the platform into that pile." [In reality this was not manure, but an enriched peat moss product product sold in bulk under the name "Gaviotta." The baled product was delivered in boxcars for the REA agent, who supplemented his meager income by running a garden business on the side.]
My most memorable recollection is of the day Ken and I got to "ride" the SN. I believe it was about 1964, when I was 11 years old. My brother and I used to ride our bikes all over Concord in those days, often going many miles from home. One of our favorite bike trips was over to the SN yards to check out the trains. This day was not expected to be any different, or so we thought.
It seemed that there was a long freight train parked in the yard that day. We were near the end of the train, admiring the caboose. In the caboose was one of the brakemen, and being kids and train lovers, we got up our nerve and started to ask him all sorts of questions about the caboose. As luck would have it, he was a kindly gentleman, and not only answered our questions, but then asked us if we'd like to come inside the caboose. Of course we jumped at the chance! He helped us up the steps and took us inside, showing us all around. Naturally we were most interested in the cupola, and the brakeman allowed us to go up there and have a seat. Needless to say, we were thrilled and enjoyed this once in a lifetime experience.
All of a sudden the train jerked and started moving forward. Our hearts leaped, as sudden thoughts of ending up in Sacramento and of having to call our parents to come and get us jumped into our minds. The brakeman casually said, "Well boys, time to get off now, as we're heading out." We quickly climbed down from the cupola and made our way to the back platform of the caboose. The train was picking up speed, as we thanked him profusely, then got up the nerve and made the jump. At the time we were probably only doing about five miles an hour, but to a couple of kids, it seemed like we were really moving along. We both managed to land safely. We waved our thanks to the brakeman, who waited on the platform to be sure we landed O.K. We watched him disappear into the distance. To this day neither of us has ever told our parents of what happened, probably due to a silly fear of getting into trouble with them, but the story of our adventure remains in our minds forever.
Not long after that day, it seemed like the trains stopped running. We made one more trip over to the yard, only to discover that the rails were being ripped up, and the telephone poles were down on the ground. I vividly remember miles of copper telephone and signaling wire all over that had been removed and coiled up. Clearly the train was gone. We were devastated. [What Bob saw was the removal of the track between Concord and Walnut Creek, which was abandoned in 1964. The SN continued to serve a few customers in Concord until 1974, when service was cut back to Clyde.]
About 1965 then-President Lyndon B. Johnson flew in by presidential helicopter to the current site of the Concord BART station to dedicate the first segment of the new system. My family attended the dedication, and I have a couple of pictures of the helicopter and LBJ in the distance, taken with my old Brownie box camera. LBJ is the only President I have ever seen in person.
Soon after that, construction crews came and began removing all the rails that once went behind our house, and tore down the old freight depot. New rails were installed on what had been the SN right-of-way. The familiar wig-wag signals were also taken down. In their place was a futuristic elevated BART track over Oak Grove Road, so that no crossing was necessary.
Out with the old, and in with the new, as they say. All that exists now is my memory of that great train which was once in my own backyard. But to me, even when returning to visit my old hometown with my own son in tow, I still remember the sights and sounds of the SN . . . and the day my brother and I took an unexpected "ride" over those now long-gone rails.
