checks, walking through the observation car where a businessman was making a phone call while in the station - they had a phone hookup in the big stations for the ‘Century.’ The back platform was unoccupied; it was still half an hour before train time. We lounged and watched the passengers, all well-dressed, walk down the red carpet, which was only rolled out for the Century.
At 2:45 pm the first section rolled out, we could hear the clang, clang of the electric engine up ahead. Shortly after, our conductor shouted:
“Booooard!!”
We slowly began rolling without any jerks. Lauren and Jonathan were very excited about riding through the tunnel in the open like this. Two other passengers joined us on the platform as we jogged silently down the track with a low rumbling and ‘clickety, clickety clack, down the track’ is what the train was saying as it accelerated, leaving the lighted platforms behind.
We were moving majestically through the crossover tracks and red signals, then upon entering the old tunnel, we really began to roll, very fast, for what seemed like a long time. We popped out of the tunnel on the four-track mainline that appeared to climb out of the ground through Harlem, looking back at downtown New York on the long viaduct (bridge) that still carries the mainline over Harlem. Racing through 125th Street station, we exchanged waves with commuters, then the sharp curves over the ancient Harlem River Bridge, jogging through the maze of tracks where the Harlem Division splits off to the right for the posh suburbs of Bronxville, Scarsdale, and White Plains.
We rolled past Yankee Stadium, the kids grinning at that; High Bridge, its romantic old stone arches high overhead right next to the Putnam Division’s station with a really old steam engine waiting with a commuter train. We soon hit the long curve along the Harlem River by Kingsbridge and threaded through the tight stone cliffs before curving north at Spuyten Duyvil. Finally we entered the magnificent Hudson River valley, almost a mile wide, well north of where the battleships still were anchored.
“Bye bye, Bruno!” Lauren shouted with a smile.
No George Washington Bridge stretched across the river south of us yet, and it looked so strange. They would start construction next year.
“What are those wooden things like railings along each track?” Jonathan asked.
“That’s the Third Rail, like on the El, remember? Provides the electric power to the engine but this one hangs upside down and is covered by wood, a lot safer,” I explained.
“Oh, yeah. Cool!” he said, satisfied.
It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon as we dashed along the shore of the Hudson, passing Dobb’s Ferry and Tarrytown, zipping by the old steel commuter trains on the outside track, the wide Tappan Zee without its familiar bridge.
In no time it seemed we entered Croton-Harmon station, with its electric and steam locomotive shops.
“Here’s where we change engines. A steam engine will take us to Chicago. I hope it’s one of the new Hudsons.”
“Hudson?” they asked.
“Yeah, the most advanced engine in the world right now, sometimes they like to call ‘em Thoroughbreds. Let’s go and see - we only have a couple of minutes here.”
Luckily our section of the Century was only 10 cars, so we made it to the head end in time to see the engine change. We were not disappointed. One of the new Hudsons was already attached to the first section on the left side of the platform. Man she was a beauty! Unlike the Bulldog-like Pennsylvania E-6 that brought us from Philadelphia, this was like a huge jungle cat, a giant, with all kinds of modern gadgets to increase efficiency, all muscle with clean, modern lines that said speed and power.
Classic New York Central Hudson From the collection of H. Gerald MacDonald
The 1st Section’s engine, actually the first Hudson, 5200, let out two ear-splitting blasts on her whistle, the signal to depart. We watched our Hudson slowly backing into our section with slow chuffing. It was time to get back on and we headed for the first open door after the Railway Post Office car, the Club-Lounge car. Men were smoking and drinking, only sodas and lemonades but you can bet they also had their hip flasks.
I showed the kids the shower-bath and the barber shop and made arrangements for a shave and haircut, as we pulled out of the station. The kids had a soda while I sat for the shave and haircut, feeling a little nervous as the skilled barber expertly shaved my afternoon stubble with his extra-sharp big old straight razor. If he slipped he could cut me very badly, but all was well and only cost 95 cents.
The kids were glad to get out of the smoky car and we headed back through the train. The Pullman conductor checked our ticket checks and we sat down to relax. Section 5 was along the river side so we all sat together.
Dinner was announced as early as 4:30 pm by a porter playing a set of soft chimes. We were hungry so we headed for the diner two cars in front. We had no trouble getting a seat. The kids found it strange to have to write down our orders, but that was the custom, to avoid any confusion.
The snow-white tablecloths, real silver and special china made for a very attractive meal. I had the Century’s famous Lobster Newburgh and watermelon pickle, the kids split a steak dinner and we all had an ice cream sundae.
It was very pleasant as the October sun set over the river as we approached Albany, crossing the old Maiden Lane Bridge into the Union Station, passing some sleeping cars parked on Track Two. A husky steam switch engine coupled onto the sleepers and pulled them to the rear. After a short time we felt our car nudged forward then back a few times.
“This is only a crew change here so we must be inserting the cars from Boston,” I said “Kids, normally, this is as close to a non-stop run as you’ll find. Say, I have a real surprise for you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, what is it?” they asked.
“Not much of a surprise if I told you, now, is it?”
After dinner we went back to the observation car’s platform in the cool evening crossing through the three new sleeping cars from Boston inserted behind the diner. The car’s porter offered us a blanket which we accepted.
The platform was occupied by a mother and her two kids, a boy and a girl about the kids’ age. We sat down and the kids said hello to each other. The girl, Diana, was very pretty with short hair and white dress, her brother Bill was Lauren’s age.
Jonathan and Lauren could not stop talking with them. I relaxed and enjoyed the night, listening to the clickety-clack and the locomotive’s melodious whistle far ahead as we rolled fast, through the gentle curves of the scenic Mohawk Valley, exchanging a few words with their mother, who was dressed very fashionably with a fur collared coat.
Time for bed, the kids parted as friends and we headed back. Our car had been transformed into a green- curtained jungle, making it hard to find our place, but we found the big numbers on the curtains. Jonathan insisted on taking the upper berth and gleefully climbed the ladder after we washed up, brushed our teeth and, with some difficulty, got undressed in our berths. We put our clothes on the hangers provided leaving our shoes peeking out from under the berth so they would be shined during the night. I arranged to have my suit pressed and hat blocked as well with the valet in the Club-Lounge car up front.
I took the lone lower berth on the right side after tucking in Lauren in the lower berth below Jonathan, who was in the upper looking out through his curtains mischievously in Section 5. The beds looked inviting, fresh white linen and Pullman blankets pulled back and tucked in with military precision, fluffy feather pillows and reading light.
The green curtains gently swayed as we rocketed through the night. The car rode smoothly over the Water Level Route as we picked up speed out of Utica, leaving the Mohawk River behind. The lower berth was one of the most comfortable beds I ever slept in, big, wide and snug.
Lauren got lost after going to the bathroom and stumbled into the wrong berth, but the lady was understanding. It was easy to do in the green-curtained aisle. We slowed down, passing right through downtown Syracuse, right in the middle of a main street just like a streetcar, with automobiles parked next to the sidewalk. We picked up speed again, and I wanted to stay awake through Buffalo where we would meet our eastbound counterpart, (although it was only a crew change stop), as in the famous poster ‘Where Centuries Pass in the
