Lakeview Army Base

In 1953 while working at Mimico I had bought a 125cc Francis Barnett motorcycle and used to go to work on it. While at work one day I was asked to drive it to the Army Base that was at the present location of the Hearn generating plant and call a guy they couldn't get in touch with. I said no problem, but it would be nice if someone who knew the place could go along with me to show me how to find the guy. We went and called the guy and were on our way back, driving down Lakeshore Road about 35MPH, near the present site of Marie Curtis Park when a guy in a small car an Austin I believe pulls up on the inside of me with his head out the window saying is that only as fast as I can go. All of a sudden the guy disappears at the same time as a loud crash and as I turn around to see what had happened, the gut had smashed into a parked car. There were some fresh fruit stands in the area and a family had just made a purchase, and when I turned and went back to see if everyone was OK an old woman was getting out of the car saying Jesus Christ just when we were eating our strawberries. Everyone was OK in that car and when I went back to check on the other guy he was getting out of the car, which had several empty beer bottles rolling around on the floor. He seemed to be OK so I said to my mate, they will figure out quite fast what went wrong here as the guy was obviously drunk, and if we stayed could be there after our cut out time, so we returned to work with the story.

Fast forward a couple of years, and the Brute [Johnny Brunelle] who owned a boat at this time were going from The Toronto Sail and Canoe Club to the Port Credit Yacht Club for some do or other that was going on at that location, and were sailing past the Lakeview Army Base in his boat when he noticed the base. We were about a half mile out from shore when he asked me if they still used the Base and I said I didn't think so as it was turned over to the Ontario Hydro for the new coal fired Generating Station that was going to be built there. I no sooner got the words out of my mouth when firing breaks out and bullets are landing all around us, and not knowing what to do just kept sailing and cursing, and at the same time saw a guy with a flag trying to stop the firing, which he did, after scaring the shit out of us. It was a miracle we didn't have our railroad career brought to an end that day, so we went on to other antics along the way.

The picture is Johnny Brunelle sitting and Danny McDonald standing, at the Bathurst St. Yard Office cica 1956. Danny McDonald was the General Yardmaster, a great guy, and was the Silver Medal winner at Greco Roman Wrestling in the 1932 Olympics, held in San Franciso.

Allan

Allan

Australia Trip 2003 Feb 24 2003 arrived at the Airport for the start of our flight to Perth West Australia which Anne had booked up with stop offs at Hong Kong, Cairns, on the Great Barrier Reef for a few days, then on to Alice Springs, and then to Ayr's Rock, or as they now call it Uluru, back to Alice Springs then on to Perth. The trouble was that on the way to the airport it starts to snow heavy and was quite cold about minus 20 F , when we got there and lined up for the tickets a guy walks over to me and wants to inspect the bags before we even get to the ticket counter, I say OK and he starts to do so right in the lineup. Its difficult to get the stuff back in the bad under those condition's, and seems to be an omen of things to come. We check our bags in and the guy at the counter tells us that the flight has been delayed until 2.30AM, at which we begin to bide our time, bide out time until the next announcement a hour later when the announcement comes that the flight is delayed until the same time next day, but that they will pay for a taxi to get us home and back the next day. When we get home, quite late, after midnight, with no keys, we have to ring the bell to get in which causes Carter, the dog to howl, and scare Amanda who is now in the house by herself wondering who wants in now. Amanda lets us in at which time we explain the situation and go to bed. We are picked up at 3.00 PM next day for our flight which will take off at 10.00PM bound for Anchorage Alaska for our first refuel on our way, which is a 6.30 minute flight. Jetting through the starlit skies Little dipper in view all the way Listening to the snores and sighs, Children murmuring,babies crys What a bum breaking ride, and, Not because it's bumpy, just so long to sit in one position, tends to make one grumpy. We get to Anchorage more or less on time and expect to be off the plane for 45 minutes, at which time we send a post card home to the girls, and get back on the plane, and have to wait another 45 minutes because of a security risk, until they find out what was the matter, that Omen feeling is starting to creep in again. Got to Hong Kong 7AM local time what a long flight and got a hotel room to rest up for the next leg of the journey. We went to the room and find out that someone is still in it so we have to go back and explain that to them at which time they give us another. When we finally get in the room we find that the key will not work the lights properly so we had to have a guy come and fix the problem. After a relaxing shower and rest we go back to the terminal for the next lap and check in and ask about our flight to Cairns and are told we are not going to Cairns, but to Sydney, but we have one hour to make connections to Cairns, which is from a different section of the Airport, at which we told them we didn't think we could make it in time, what with having to go through Customs, and they said that the plane would be held for us if there was a slight problem. This is a real piss off because to get to Sydney we have to fly right over Cairns and on 2000 miles, then we have to get on another plane and fly back, not only this we have hotels booked up at Cairns, Alice Spring's and Ayrs Rock, and will lose a day along the way. It seems because of the original delay we couldn't stop off at Cairns because the plane only flys there every other day. We get to Sydney and meet an obnoxious Customs Officer who was worried about the food we were smuggling in, and when he asked us for the keys so that he could open the bags, wed couldn't find them right away, and thinking the delay would cause us to miss the next flight we told him to break the locks. They brought a pair of bolt cutters and they wouldn't work on the Mickey Mouse lock that we had put on the bags, and had to send for another pair, which finally allowed them to open the bag. He kept asking us about the food we were bringing in to Australia, and we told him we weren't bringing any food to Australia, and when he asked us why we were not bringing food to Australia I told him we were hoping, above hope that they had enough. The Customs man only opened the one bag and went through it but couldn't find any food. I was glad he never opened the other bag which was full of Egg Salad Sandwiches, and peanut butter sandwiches we had brought for the starving teeming thousands,of Australia, and I was worried the Egg Salad ones would go off in the Australian heat, and can you imagine egg salad sandwiches going off on the plane over Queensland somewhere, The Humanity. Needless to say we missed the next flight they never held it for us and the next flight after that was filled up so we couldn't get on that either, so we were given the OK to use the VIP lounge until the flight we could take would go a few hours later. Needless to say by this time I'm completely pissed off so I just sat and sulked, while Anne had a shower and a meal from the great buffet they provided. We got to Cairns a day late and had to rejig the whole schedule because of that, and as I said I was totally pissed of promises had been made and not kept so we lost a second day of our vacation if not needlessly, at least because the Airline never kept their promise. After getting to Cairns everything went along swimmingly, we enjoyed our stay there and at Alice Springs, and Ayr's Rock, back to Alice Springs and on to Perth, the remotest big city in the world. Talk about Murphy's Law it broke out with a vengence. Allan

Australia Trip 2003


Feb 24 2003 arrived at the Airport for the start of our flight to Perth West Australia which Anne had booked up with stop offs at Hong Kong, Cairns, on the Great Barrier Reef for a few days, then on to Alice Springs, and then to Ayr's Rock, or as they now call it Uluru, back to Alice Springs then on to Perth.
The trouble was that on the way to the airport it starts to snow heavy and was quite cold about minus 20 F , when we got there and lined up for the tickets a guy walks over to me and wants to inspect the bags before we even get to the ticket counter, I say OK and he starts to do so right in the lineup. Its difficult to get the stuff back in the bad under those condition's, and seems to be an omen of things to come.
We check our bags in and the guy at the counter tells us that the flight has been delayed until 2.30AM, at which we begin to bide our time, bide out time until the next announcement a hour later when the announcement comes that the flight is delayed until the same time next day, but that they will pay for a taxi to get us home and back the next day.
When we get home, quite late, after midnight, with no keys, we have to ring the bell to get in which causes Carter, the dog to howl, and scare Amanda who is now in the house by herself wondering who wants in now.
Amanda lets us in at which time we explain the situation and go to bed. We are picked up at 3.00 PM next day for our flight which will take off at 10.00PM bound for Anchorage Alaska for our first refuel on our way, which is a 6.30 minute flight.

Jetting through the starlit skies
Little dipper in view all the way
Listening to the snores and sighs,
Children murmuring,babies crys

What a bum breaking ride, and,
Not because it's bumpy, just
so long to sit in one position,
tends to make one grumpy.

We get to Anchorage more or less on time and expect to be off the plane for 45 minutes, at which time we send a post card home to the girls, and get back on the plane, and have to wait another 45 minutes because of a security risk, until they find out what was the matter, that Omen feeling is starting to creep in again.

Got to Hong Kong 7AM local time what a long flight and got a hotel room to rest up for the next leg of the journey.
We went to the room and find out that someone is still in it so we have to go back and explain that to them at which time they give us another.
When we finally get in the room we find that the key will not work the lights properly so we had to have a guy come and fix the problem.
After a relaxing shower and rest we go back to the terminal for the next lap and check in and ask about our flight to Cairns and are told we are not going to Cairns, but to Sydney, but we have one hour to make connections to Cairns, which is from a different section of the Airport, at which we told them we didn't think we could make it in time, what with having to go through Customs, and they said that the plane would be held for us if there was a slight problem.
This is a real piss off because to get to Sydney we have to fly right over Cairns and on 2000 miles, then we have to get on another plane and fly back, not only this we have hotels booked up at Cairns, Alice Spring's and Ayrs Rock, and will lose a day along the way.
It seems because of the original delay we couldn't stop off at Cairns because the plane only flys there every other day.
We get to Sydney and meet an obnoxious Customs Officer who was worried about the food we were smuggling in, and when he asked us for the keys so that he could open the bags, wed couldn't find them right away, and thinking the delay would cause us to miss the next flight we told him to break the locks.
They brought a pair of bolt cutters and they wouldn't work on the Mickey Mouse lock that we had put on the bags, and had to send for another pair, which finally allowed them to open the bag.
He kept asking us about the food we were bringing in to Australia, and we told him we weren't bringing any food to Australia, and when he asked us why we were not bringing food to Australia I told him we were hoping, above hope that they had enough.
The Customs man only opened the one bag and went through it but couldn't find any food.
I was glad he never opened the other bag which was full of Egg Salad Sandwiches, and peanut butter sandwiches we had brought for the starving teeming thousands,of Australia, and I was worried the Egg Salad ones would go off in the Australian heat, and can you imagine egg salad sandwiches going off on the plane over Queensland somewhere, The Humanity.
Needless to say we missed the next flight they never held it for us and the next flight after that was filled up so we couldn't get on that either, so we were given the OK to use the VIP lounge until the flight we could take would go a few hours later.
Needless to say by this time I'm completely pissed off so I just sat and sulked, while Anne had a shower and a meal from the great buffet they provided.
We got to Cairns a day late and had to rejig the whole schedule because of that, and as I said I was totally pissed of promises had been made and not kept so we lost a second day of our vacation if not needlessly, at least because the Airline never kept their promise.
After getting to Cairns everything went along swimmingly, we enjoyed our stay there and at Alice Springs, and Ayr's Rock, back to Alice Springs and on to Perth, the remotest big city in the world.
Talk about Murphy's Law it broke out with a vengence.
Allan

"The Bowling Tournament"

One day someone gets the bright idea to start a Bowling League for the afternoon shift at Bathurst St. For the most part it was the Car Department and Office Staff that participated. I was never a great bowler and my brother was so strong he seemed to knock the pins into the adjoining alley as much as his own, but his accuracy was not much either. This was 5 pins and before the advent of automatic pin setters, so we were always afraid of Max killing some pin boy. As is usual I guess we charged a little extra so that at the end of the season, they could have a Tournament where prizes could be handed out to the best bowlers. The end of the season came and the prizes would be handed out to the best individual bowlers, and it would be three turkeys to the three best bowlers. Well because it was the end of the season most of the guys brought Mickeys with them, or fifths, to those Americans who might read this. Some of the guys had started drinking early, and were already half hammered when they got there, so this did a great deal for my accuracy, or more correctly, their inaccuracy this day. I got a turkey for first prize, Max got a turkey for second prize and Cecil S. got one for third prize, Cecil being another non drinker, William D got 4th prize, William working in the office with us, who drank but watched himself. By the time we were ready to go to work I became very worried about these guys who were all smashed but had their cars to drive to work. What could we do. We all headed out and went to work. The Car Department guys started straggling in and staggering across the tracks, it was a sad picture, one guy stumbled and fell across the main line with the GYM watching shaking his head as Max and I rushed out to help the guy up and into the Car Department. The almost whole crew of the eight or ten guys were smashed and staggering across the tracks. We were wondering how anything was going to get done that night. There was a bit of a Jog on Front St. and one on the Carmen never made the jog and got into a head on and wound up in jail for the night. We had to take up a collection to bail him out. I guess that very little got really checked that night for at least four hours anyway. I guess the only funny part to this story was watching the GYM, Elmer H. with the stunned look on his face wondering how he was going to get through the night with almost the entire Car Department hammered.
They did and no one was injured, even in the collision.

Spreading Pornography

George Gray my stepfather worked for the DSC Department of Street Cleaning for the City of Toronto, and in the course of performing his duties of Garbage Man they would pick up Playboy, and Penthouse magazines, as well as many others. When everyone at home had read them I would take them to work and distribute them even further afield. The CNR had their own internal mail system, so I would bring them to work and send them anonymously out across the country mostly to the inaccessible regions where there were no roads, so some guy when opening his mail at Churchill Man. or Moosonee Ont. would open his railroad mail to find a spicy magazine in it not knowing where it came from or why. I sent out hundreds of these out over the years, and in fact other ones that I thought would be of interest, and unavailable to individuals in many remote areas. My only hope is that some one would enjoy them from time to time. I had read an article in the paper one day that said when sending out a cheque, or an income tax return, send a little joke with it, and also an article that mentioned reading material in the remote ares was hard to come by, so I just took it the next step forward.

"Vending Machines"

We have all had problems with vending machines, and one day one of my members from the Diesel Shop came into the office looking for me and asked for me to come out to the cafeteria with him so he could tell me of his problem. He started to tell me of his marital problems, and how his wife was divorcing him and trying to get custody of their children, and how he was not in a very good mood that day. I thought to myself why is he telling me this stuff anyway, I'm not a marriage counsellor, but he goes on to say, he put his money into the machine for a drink, and the drink never came out. He then pressed the button to give him back his money, but the machine refused. Coincidentally he had a Ball Peen hammer in his hand because of some job he was doing, and took it out on the machine, effectively wrecking the machine. I had a pretty good relationship with Ron P. the Shop Foreman, and called him up wondering what to expect. He said don't worry about it they would take a statement and asses the guy 10 demerit points, and pay for repairs or replacement of the machine out of the money the Company got for allowing the machines to be there, which would normally go to the employees recreation fund. I thought it was almost to easy. I was sorry to see Ron P. go.

Mr Pellish, Superintendent MacMillan Yard

Mr Pellish, and I don't know his first name, or if that is how his last name was spelled because he didn't seem to stay around for a long time, called me into his office one day for a chat while I was the Local Chairman, or in other parlance the Grievance Officer, of Local 216 CBRT&GW. I had worked out a deal with the Office Assistant at the yard whereby Jessie H. would be trained for another job after her job was cancelled. The guy who I worked out the deal with Ted N, reneged on the deal. As the Company was always in violation of the Collective Agreement 5.1 in one way or another, because the violations were relatively minor we tended to turn a blind eye to them, until that is we considered ourselves screwed by the Company in some way or another. Then I felt it was time to put voice to these violations in the form of a grievance. I had been thinking of one grievance, and whether to put it in or not, and that was that I f a person was promoted to a non scheduled position but remained on the same job they would lose their seniority in the group they had been. The reason was as far as I was concerned that they took their job with them and no other member of the bargaining unit would be eligible to get that job. The action of the company made my mind up for me, so I put in a grievance for that violation as well as about ten others. Mr. Pellish Superintendent calls me into his office and tells me he feels sorry for me, having to spend a lot of time writing out these grievances. I told him he should not worry about that. He goes on to say that my writing these grievances must take time, that I would be able to devote to my family. I told him that my members were my family, but over and above that, many of the people I worked with went out and enjoyed themselves by bowling, playing hockey, playing cards, and going to the show. I told him I enjoyed writing out grievances and the challenges they provided. Mr. Pellish's jaw sort of drops, and he says that I was the most cynical person that he had ever met. I then told him I considered that a complement, and he says it wasn't meant that way. I told him I knew that, and it didn't matter. I walked out of the office and the main grievance went on to be thrashed out for many years. The Union lost the grievance eventually because of tardiness on their part, but the Company and Union spent much more time and money on it than was really necessary. I never spoke with Mr. Pellish again

" H "


H. was of Ukrainian decent, had a name that couldn't be pronounced, and worked as a Carman, at Bathurst St in the early 1960s. "H" fancied himself a practical joker, and he was of course, as were most others on the Railroad to a varying degree. I was in the East End, North side shanty at the bottom of the hill that leads to Simcoe St. Shed, where the switchtender who operated the puzzle switch was located. I was preparing to phone in an update of a train being made up, and when I put the phone to my ear I felt something funny. When I put my hand to my ear to see what it was, I was surprised that it came back covered in black goo. Someone had doctored the phone with thick black grease, that I got all around the side of my head not to mention inside my ear. I had to go back to the office to clean the side of my head off, and my ear our, which was difficult as this grease went right into my ear. This pissed me off more than it would have if this was directed at me, just the random nature of the deed made me mad. Anyone could have gotten caught this way, and it just happened to be me. I had to go back to the North Side and went into the Car Dept. first as this was the most likely place this type of grease would come from. I questioned a few Carmen, and deduced that it was "H" and when I found out I cooled off, figuring I will get him in the future some time.

The next day I was date stamping the Bills for a train that I had just processed, when "H" comes into the office with a coffee and two packaged doughnuts he had just bought from the coffee man who had just came, and lays the coffee and doughnuts beside the bills I was date stamping. As I am date stamping he says, I guess I got you good yesterday, and as soon as he said that I saw red, and he could tell because he started to move, but not fast enough. I stamped his doughnuts squashing them, and then the coffee, sending it flying all over the office at the same time I was calling him a few choice names at the top of my lungs, everyone in the office looking up to see everything in motion, as well as "H" who by this time was heading for the door, but again not fast enough, as he was going through my boot caught him, on his way out. O f course a lot of the people in the office never knew about the grease in my ear especially the main line Brakemen who were waiting for their Bills. People were asking me what had just happened, and I told them. I never saw "H" the rest of the day. The next day I go into the Car Department and there is "H" with his legs up on the table leaning back, exposing his leg which was all black and blue. I asked him what happened to his leg and he says that's where you kicked me yesterday. I thought good, but said oh that's to bad, I didn't mean for that to happen, and he thinks LIAR, LIAR, and he would have been right.

" Mr. Dressup "

Back in 60's John Brown, the newly appointed Office Assistant, he had been the Chief Clerk on days which was a scheduled job, which you would get by bid, heard through that we were going to get a visit to Bathurst St. the next day by some Vice. President, or another, and told everyone they would have to come to work the next day with a white shirt and tie, which I didn't even own. Most of the guys on the day shift were generally dressed up pretty good anyway, so Jim Pettie, my brother Max and myself figured that these comments were addressed at us three that generally came dressed as bums, compared to the rest of the office. I said , that I didn't even own a white shirt, and Jim and Max made some other comments, and we argued with John to no avail, he was insistent, so I acquiesced and beckoned to Jim and Max to do the same thing, so they did and came to me later and asked if I was crazy . I told them of my plan, they kind of chuckled and indicated they would go along with it somehow.

We all went home that day determined to figure out a plan of action, and I knew what my plan was right away, and had thought of it while John was admonishing us on what to do for the next day. When I got home I asked my mother if she had one of my stepfathers old white shirts that were ready for the rag bag, and she said she did. My stepfather was probably a medium build while I was extra large, and could hardly get into it. After I did get into the shirt I shrugged my shoulders, and in doing so tore the shirt to shreds, so that it looked like ribbons, I then asked my mother for one of my stepfathers old ties, and was ready for the next day.

The next day bright and early I drove to work with my normal T shirt, but when I got there I took it off and put on the shredded one, but not before throwing it on the ground making it dirty, then tied on the old tie with a granny not, and went into the office, bare back showing under the badly torn shirt. Everyone there kind of stared but no one said a thing. I thought John Brown's eyes were going to pop out of his head, he comes over to me and says you can't stay here like that, at which time I told him it was his idea for me to wear the white shirt and tie, and I had no intention of going home now, and about this time Jim Pettie comes i n with a white T shirt on with a tie painted, with crayons, down the middle, and Max then enters with a cardboard tie that he had designed and painted himself tied to a white T shirt with a straight pin. I thought John was going to have a fit, anyway no dignitary ever did come to the office that day, and my guess is that that was John Brown's longest day at work, and it took five years before anyone ever tried to tell me how to dress, which turned out to be a minor disaster for the person doing so.

John Brown was one of those characters that worked on the Railroad, he wasn't really Yard Office material, he was better suited to working in a real office like the one he had come from at Simcoe St. but I think he would rather be a big fish in a little pond, rather than a little one in the lake. John was in charge of the supplies, and one day in passing I asked him for a pencil and he asks me for the stub of the old one, and I'm thinking he can't be for real, but make up some excuse for not having it, and he gives me one. I mention this to Bobby May who says, John is a little weird, next time you ask him for a, pencil tell him I didn't think he would give you one. The next time I needed a pencil from him I go to him and say I need a pencil John but Bobby May said he didn't think you would give me one, and he says, is that right, come with me. John takes me into the supply room and gives me a whole box of pencils, it seems you had to use reverse psychology on him. John was a real nice guy but it took a hell of an effort, and work, to find that out, which I did, and in spite of his quirks, grew to greatly appreciate him, as I think he did with me.

John Asked me to his house in New Toronto one day, for some reason or another and when I went and knocked on the door a little old lady answered the door, and when I told her that I wanted John she invited me in and said John was doing something and would be with us shortly but would I like a cup of tea, to which I said yes. The old girl must have been over ninety and the oldest person I had ever met up to that time, and when John appears he introduces me to his mother, who lived with him. I thinks John's wife had died, anyway we had a nice visit and talk, and I thought how nice John is just about ready for pension and is taking care of his mother. After that one day I ask John if he would like to go up to the cottage fishing one day, and he said that he would but could his son come along, as he would have to drive him, to which I said sure. John comes up with his son one weekend and we have a great time, and John's son the the polar opposite of the persona John tried to cultivate at work, a really great guy. He was also home for only a short time, because as I understand it he worked in Europe, a short time after that was when John retired.

A Solid Right Cross

Back in the 1950s the CNR was starting, in a substantial way to dieselize it's locomotive fleet but still had many Steam Engines running. Where I worked, at Bathurst St. was a very busy hub on the afternoon shift when I worked. We had trains going to Capreal, North Bay, Vancouver, Stratford, and Montreal. The two trains to Montreal were 1st 444 and 2nd 444 commonly called the first and second bullet. Bathurst St is the low spot in the Toronto area and in fact was filled many years ago. Where the Yard Office then stood previously was the shore of Lake Ontario. To get away from Bathurst St in any direction a grade has to be climbed, and the steepest and longest is the Kingston Sub which the Montreal trains would have to make. The bullet would leave Mimico leaving enough room on it for the tonnage it would pick up at Bathurst St. When to train would arrive at Bathurst St the Locomotive would uncouple and a yard engine from Bathurst St would back our lift on the train. The mainline locomotive would re couple on to the train and pull out. In the office we were expected to have the bills and lift ready for the Conductor when the train went by, which it would at 40 to 50 MPH. We would have to hoop the bills and journal to the caboose on the fly. There we two types of hoops, the bamboo one which most people know of but if we didn't have a bamboo one we had to use one that was like a big Y. The top two ends of the Y had a slot in it so we would tie the bills so the rope fit in the slots and formed the Y which the tail end man would put his arms through when going by. I was hooping the bills on the Bullet one day standing beside the speeding train a little to close while the tail end man was leaning out to far, and he connected with my jaw. I turned around to see Mike Veale laughing his head off, I yelled if the brakeman lost the bills which I thought he might I was going to punch him, but the bills were caught in the crook of his arm and he didn't have to dump the air and come back for them. I was mad and said next time I would hoop up the Bills and anchor the rope to a switch, but calmer heads prevailed and I saw the humor in it. But at least I was not put off my feet.

Hurricane Hazel


Back in 1953 a short time after I started on the CNR Hurricane Hazel came through Toronto doing a great deal of infrastructure damage. One of the damaged bridges was the Queen St Lakeshore Rd road and streetcar bridge. It is my understanding that when he heard of the damage to the road bridge, JD Hayes Superintendent of the CNR in Toronto, ordered that several cars of OCS coal be taken to the railway bridge and left on top of the bridge to hold it down, so it couldn't be washed away, which it wasn't. Because I worked in Mimico at the time and didn't have a car I was relegated to using the streetcar to get to work, which I and anyone else in my position would have to do. The CNR then ran a caboose from Toronto Bathurst St. to Mimico which we could get on a Sunnyside, at Queen St. and Roncesvalles Ave. At this time there was a popular amusement park at Sunnyside. A Story goes back to the late 1800s when horse died on Roncesvalles Ave, around the corner from Queen St, and because a report would have to be filled out by the Police Dept. at the time, the policeman on duty dragged the horse around to Queen St because he couldn't or didn't want to spell Roncesvalles. Anyway I go to Sunnyside and get on the caboose as it comes in. When the train gets to Mimico I go to jump of the train while it is still running and my foot gets caught on the step and I fall between the caboose and the engine, while still holding on to the hand grab. My life went racing before my eyes as I saw that rail moving below me, but I managed to pull myself back up and was promptly given hell for jumping off the moving train in that manner. I was told in no uncertain terms always face the train when jumping off and that was a lesson I never forgot.

Incident at the Pikerel

If you read the comment from Gary, he is actually mistaking an incident I believe that happened to my brother Max. Many years ago the CNR would put a special coach on the train, for the use of CNR employees only. The train left Union Station at 2300Hrs bound for Vancouver. When it reached Pickerel River, at approximately 0700hrs, the coach would be set off on a siding that was just north of the bridge. When setting off the coach a freight train came thundering over the bridge and just about rammed the Passenger train setting off the coach. I forget if the block was missed or if the conductor on the passenger train thought they could set the coach off and be gone in time. Needless to say many of the people on the train had to make a quick underwear change. Gary is quite right though, many things have happened that bare relating and in fact I have the beginnings of a book of funny, in retrospect, happenings in my railroad career. Perhaps I will mention them from time to time.Allan

" More Characters" & A lesson to me

Frank F. was a relief Chief Dispatcher on afternoons and such an aggravating man you never met, unless it was Ken T.

As I have said, the afternoon shift at Bathurst St. could get very busy at times, and you had to dance around, to get the things done you had to do, in time.

One of the things we had to do was give the Chief Dispatcher a count on each train that left, and sometimes he would phone and remind us, if we hadn't done that yet.

The dispatcher's phone was a separate phone that would talk with the dispatcher exclusively or that is what I thought.

The dispatcher's phone is like a door bell it rings for as long as you hold the button, and most times the dispatcher gives it a little nudge, we pick it up and give him the lineup, but not Frank, he would push it many times or just hold it until you answered.

One day when we were particularly busy, he just held the ringer down, and when I could I picked it up and said, would you shove that phone up your ass, and used Tony F.'s line "can't you see we are busy", and did give him the lineup.

A few days later I happened to be in Parkdale Station on my day off talking to the Operator Tom J. when I heard the Chief Dispatcher ask the guys at Bathurst St. for the count, at which point I say to Tom, I gave him shit the other day, I didn't know all the stations, and passengers in them in southern Ontario were on loud speakers, and he said indeed they are and we heard you give Frank F. hell the other day, and cheered you for it, but I learned my lesson and held my mouth whenever on that phone in the future, even though I would have gladly wrung his neck.

Allan

...............................................................................................................................

" Tommy Crawford"

Tommy C., was one of those unforgettable characters that you meet once in a while, Tommy worked the midnight shift and, he hated to get new Car Checkers, and whenever he did he was as miserable as he could be.

Tommy would warm up to a new Car Checker eventually , if the checker could type because he hated the teletype machine, as much as he hated new checkers, and he would get the new checkers doing his typing which was good for the checker, because they would learn the Bill Clerks job, which is what Tommy was, and he worked the same job, the whole time I knew him until he retired.

Tommy was a chain smoker in the strongest sense of the word, it wasn't unusual for him to have 3 cigarettes going at the same time, he would leave one on the teletype machine, one on an ash tray, which was actually the glass globe of a track signal on one desk, and the same on another desk, and as he moved around the office would take drags on them as he passed them.

Tom was a very good employee, and when you got to know him, was a great guy, and would do anything for you, it was only in the interim that he was miserable.

I got to know Tommy and he was always good with me.

Allan

.......................................................................................................................

" Norm Todd"

I know no one will jump up in recognition, and this is only a one incident thing, but I have to explain Norm Todd.

I was having a small legal difficulty and decided to consult a Lawyer in Richmond Hill, and the only reason I knew of Norm was that he had acted for the vendor, who we bought our house from.

Norm was actually a very long standing lawyer in Richmond Hill, and on occasion acted as a Judge.

When I went to see Norm initially and told him my problem it only took a few minutes, a few minutes that is until he asked me what I did, and who I worked for.

I couldn't get out of his office for two hours and was thinking during our discussion , I hope he doesn't bill me for this, which he didn't.

Norm went on to tell me that his father was the General Chairman for the Brakemans Union, and that in fact he, Norm had worked for the CNR for a while, with I think the B&B gang in the summer working his way through University.

Norm's father had been a conductor on a Niagara Falls job out of Mimico.

One of Norm's jobs for the railway was filling the tenders of steam engines with water and see to it that the water towers were filled promptly, after filling up the engine.

Evidently there must have been some kind of valve on the water tower to insure to much water would not get in the tower, but something was the matter with the one at Mimico, and he was told to watch the tower and shut it off manually when it reached a certain level.

Norm was talking when he should have been watching, which could be normal for a lawyer, but not on that job,at that time, the tower burst, sending water and staves flying all over the place, and was the end of Norm's railway career.

One of the individuals Norm was in Law School with was JJ Robinette who became quite famous for the "Dick" affair, Evelyn Dick, that is, a woman from Hamilton who was convicted of killing and dismembering her husband, but, never hung as was expected, as a result it was thought of Robinette's defence , and eventually was let out of jail to live the rest of her life in obscurity.

Norm's wife died and he retired, he must have been pushing 80 years old, and moved in with his son, and daughter in law, in the Bradford area.

I was on what was called the "Barrie Job" where I had to drive to Barrie every day to perform a few tasks, among which was correct manifests so Canada Customs would have a legitimate one.

At least once a week on my way back I would stop in and have a coffee with Norm who was alone in the house during the day, and occasionally would pick him up on the weekends and take him for a ride and an ice cream, and we became quite good friends.

Allan

.................................................................................................................

" Wilf Shannon"

Wilf Shannon was quite a character, he was the Northside Switchtender, who was almost doubled up with arthritis, and one of his jobs was to ride down on the footboard of inbound Transfers, and bleed them off after the engine had uncoupled.

Wilf had a few colourful sayings which I hadn't heard before or since, and I won't repeat them hear but, if he was particularly annoyed by someone he would call them an RCCS, and anyone who knew Wilf would know what that stood for.

Many times, if I was there, and didn't have anything urgent to do, I would ride down and bleed the train off for him.

Wilf was an ardent race track fan and always had a racing form in his pocket, talking about bets he was going to make, and that, is something the never interested me in the least.

I was in the Yard Office one day talking with Robert B. another race track bettor and I was discussing the field of one of the races that day and Robert, who was of Scottish decent said he was going to make an impulse bet on Bruce's Mill, and I said look there is a better one, Angus Glen, no Robert says, Bruce's Mill is the one.

Robert bets $10.00 on Bruce's Mill and loses, and Angus Glen paid something like $40.00 and Robert comes in the next day saying I should have listened to you Al, Angus Glen paid $40.00, and promptly went over and told Wilf.

I went over to the North Side shanty a little while later and Wilf starts giving me hell, for not telling him, about Angus Glen, at which I have to tell him, it was a silly impulse bet Wilf, I never even thought about it until Robert pulled out the Racing Form, and I never had a bet on him either.

As I said Wilf had arthritis and was all bent out of shape and you could be forgiven if you thought he was about 5 ft. tall, but in actual fact I think he was in excess of 6ft. tall and in pretty good shape, for the shape he was in.

Wilf would come to work on the streetcar and one day a few minutes before starting time, I heard Wilf arguing with Gord C. the Coach Yard Car Checker, [Gord C. was a WW11 vet, and spent almost his entire army career in a Japanese prison camp at Hong Cong], Gord was being disrespectful of Wilf when Wilf suddenly lets out a yell, and punches and drives poor Gord right accross the office, Gord picked himself up 20 ft from where he was standing and never disrespected Wilf again.

I know Wilf liked me because if someone said or did something I didn't like I would tell them in no uncertain terms and that went for the Yardmasters, and most especially Ken T. who neither of us likes very much, and in fact we were not alone in that, I had worked for the CNR for 40 years and actually only met 3 or 4 people I didn't like, and never did meet any one who liked Ken T.

Allan

.........................................................................................

" Lou Kelso"

I never knew much about Lou Kelso, except that he was the original Interchange Clerk at Bathurst St that I knew of, and Lou was always King Billy riding on a white horse in the yearly Orange Parade in Toronto.

I went on to work the Interchange Clerk job and liked it very much, It was the one job where you had to leave the property, and in fact were given two streetcar tickets daily to go to and from the CPR Yard Office at Parkdale.

The interesting thing about going to the CPR at Parkdale was that they seemed to have the same cast of characters, it was almost like going into a parallel dimension, or "The Twilight Zone" only the names were changed, it was almost like the workers on these two railroads were bred for the jobs.

I often wondered if it was the same for other railroads as well, and because of this blog I might find out, anyway.

You had to go the the CPR office to reconcile situations, and differences that can up as a result of the "joint sidings" in our area, where we might put a car in, and they would pull it out, or vice versa.

Another problem was if we pulled a car out and the checker, checked a bum number, that is transposing a number, there would be an open record, and that problem had to be solved, which was the purview of the Interchange Clerk, and as I was told by a very smart guy I tried to teach the job to, it required a great deal of abstract thought.

That Guy was Don L.

Allan

.............................................................................................................



" Don Lakeman"

Don Lakeman was a very smart man, he taught himself to speak Spanish out of books, then joined a Spanish Club so he could use the language, he then taught himself to speak Russian out of books, the joined a Russian club so he would have somewhere to use it.

Don was a very, very, smart man,but as smart as he was, he was also weird.

Don never got on with his father who had owned an upscale taylor shop at King and Yonge St., I guess because Don was a Communist sympathizer, and in fact subscribed to Communist publications.

Don said the RCMP had visited him on several occasions wondering what he was up to and what they could find out, to no avail.

Don would wear an overcoat in the summer because he was afraid of catching a cold, or another of his quirks was, he owned a Volkswagen Bug, and he would drive it to Parry Sound and back on the different weekends and tell me that he used a quart of gas more on one weekend, than the other, and ask me why was that.

My first remark was Don are you for real, why would you even worry about that, and then I would say, it could be that your tires were low, or you could have had more head winds on one trip over the other, the usual possibilities.

Don would visit us at home from time to time and always had something for the kids.

Eventually my wife Anne and I would go on a bus trip of Eastern Europe, and would visit Moscow, and we never had his address so we couldn't send him a card from there, and I know he would really appreciated that, as he had retired, and had a stroke.

He was another of those characters.

Allan

.....................................................................................................................

" More Rule G "

Back in 1957 or 1958
on New Years eve I got a call from Mimico asking me to work overtime there as a Bill and Train Clerk, which I said I would.

I get there only to find there would only be three of us working that night Allan B. who had just been laid off as a Brakeman on the main line Dave "Porky" R. and myself, and on getting there it is quite evident that Porky, is three sheets to the wind.

Porky asks me If I can list, to which I answer in the affirmative, then hands me a train, at which the GYM, General Yardmaster Bill G. comes over and asks me if I know what I am doing, to which I say I consider that insulting, because I had worked with Bill G when he was a yardmaster at Bathurst St. and if he didn't trust me I could go home right now, at which Porky pipes in yeh, why don't you fuck off, we know what we are doing, I'm thinking Jesus Christ Porky your tempting fate, anyway Bill does leave, and everything goes along swimmingly that night.

Allan

.......................................................................................................................

" The Grape Job"

The Grape Job was an interesting job it seemed, and could lead to, unintended repercussions.

Each Fall usually from mid September to mid October we would begin getting a great number of rail cars of grapes coming in, and when I say a great number that would be up to 1400 rail cars of grapes mostly going to St. Clair Ave Team Track.

As the importing companies sold most of these grapes right out of the car, when a car was emptied it would have to be switched out of the way, and a new load, which would be held elsewhere brought in so the company could be selling out of the car on the spot continuously.

Because of, and to insure prompt and timely switching the Company's would at times give the crew each a bottle of wine to take home for their supper, but the trouble was, the crews would some times have the wine with their lunch, and by the time they had to cut out, when they got back to the office, they were none the worse for wear.

The foreman on this job one time was Frank B. who could outswitch most other foremen, but was an awful sot, and was warned on many occasions, to leave the suds never mind wine, alone.

Well the crew was met at Parkdale one time by the Trainmaster Bill G. and the entire crew, I believe Frank B, Homer T. and Art M., was pulled out of service, I don't know if they ever got back.

Everyone was a little sorry for them but they did tempt fate.

Allan

The first picture is me at the cabin, and the second is Eric, and we were snowmobiling that winter..

" Toronto's Finest #2"

Around 1975, I had gone up to Macmillan Yard for the final time and would remain there in one position or another until being pensioned off.

I was making new relationships with the guys up there even though I knew a great many lifers such as me.

One of the newer ones was with Eric W. who became a good friend and we would wind up hunting together for more than 35 years.

One time when we were just getting to know each other on a social basis we decided to go snowmobiling at my cottage at Pickerel River.

After following my friend Lyman N. around his trap line for a day, we had quite a time, and would do this on occasion a few more times.

After getting home I noticed in the Toronto Star that, a store in Toronto had snowmobile helmets on sale for $5:00 each, called Eric and we decided to go down and buy one each as we never had one up to that time.

I said that I would pick up Eric at his house near Leslie St. and Finch Ave. in my 1967 Pontiac Strato Chief, which we had used to tow the snowmobiles up north with.

I picked up Eric and we headed south on Leslie St. , and hadn't gone far when we were stopped by a traffic cop, telling us that we had no head lights, or tail lights, at which time, I told the cop that I found that hard to believe, but that I would check, getting out of the car, and going to the front I see that the head lights are on, and going to the rear, see that indeed there are no tail lights.

The cop says he is going to have to give me a ticket for no tail lights, and I say to this that, look a half block down the street is a service station, its probably just a fuse I can fix it there, and save myself some money and him the bother of writing out a ticket, but no as this must have been to him the crime of the century, he proceeds to write out the ticket, as I tell Eric to check the glove box to see if there was a fuse in there, and there was.

Before the ticket was finished I had replaced the broken fuse and the tail lights were working again, which I pointed out to the Officer, but he would have none of it, I guess he was having a tough time meeting his quota that month, he finished the ticket, which I think was about $35:00, and went off whistling, leaving me burning.

I get back in the car and heading south once more I asked Eric where the nearest Police station was and he told me, near a plaza around Sheppard and Leslie where I proceed to go.

We get to the Police station, and go up to the second floor desk, where I tell the Se argent, who seemed to be the only guy in there, what had transpired, and he tells me, that he can do nothing, the only person who can, is the cop that game me the ticket, I say fair enough, but as that is the case I will take it to night court, and that I would like him, to go with me to my car, and confirm that the lights were in fact working within ten minutes of getting the ticket.

He says with, what appears to be a straight face, " I couldn't do that because as soon as I left, you could take the fuse out and, and they would no longer be working" at which time Eric's who was standing behind me jaw dropped, and I without hesitation yell at the cop is this a Police Station, or a crazy house, and stomp out telling Eric that I would take it to court and would probably need him as a witness.

The next day at work I entered the checking booth as Eric was telling someone about the night before, telling them, can you imagine, that son of a bitch going right in the Police station and giving them hell, and I remind Eric that I will need him as a witness, and begin telling them that this was not my first run in with the Police, that many years before around 1963 I had another problem with the Police department, and begin to relate the problem when a light went off in my head.

While living in Parkdale on Tyndall Ave. we had quite a problem with parking tickets for overnight parking, and the funny thing was that I never got many, because after working the overnight shift, and getting over the high of doing a good job at work, I would watch the end of the Jack Parr show, or the late night night movie, would go outside and check if the tires had been chalked, before going to bed, which is what the cops would do, and they would come back about 5:00AM and ticket the cars, that handn't moved.

If the tires had been chalked I would go up and down the street for a half block and rub out the chalk marks, but after getting tired of doing this one day I wrote a letter to Mayor Nathan Philips, the Police Commission, and the Board of Control.

I never expected much action but, surprising to me, Ron Haggart, a shit disturbing columnist at the Toronto Star got a copy of my letter, which basically stated that we, in our area were getting a disproportionate number of tickets, that when we lived on Northcote ave a few blocks away, we never got tickets.

Mr. Haggart wrote of my complaint in the Star, and it wasn't long before we got a call from an officer at the nearbye Police Station at Cowan Ave. saying that they would like to have a chat with me, and I say that I would like that, and the Staff Sergeant comes over to our house, and we have quite a pleasant chat in my mother's front porch, at which time I tell him that I have gone by Cowan Ave. Police Station many times seeing many cars illegally parked out side the Police Station which was right beside the Fire Station, and there is no parking within 500 ft of a fire station, and indicate to him that I thought a majority of those cars were Police Officers private cars.

The staff sergeant does his best to mollify me but it doesn't matter because the heat has gone out of my argument, as we hadn't been bothered for a while, as a result of my complaint I guess.

A few weeks later the neighbor knocks on our door during the day, and tells us that we had been chalked, and that he had been given a ticket for washing his car on the street, and that he was telling all the neighbors about the tire chalking, upon which my brother Max and me go out and move the cars 3 feet with the police who chalked the tires looking on from their cruiser parked on Springhurst Ave.

A couple minutes later we get another knock on the door and it is the neighbor, who says we have been chalked again, and we go out and move the cars again, getting a little pissed off by now.

I go back in the house and phone Cowan Ave Police Station and ask them if this is all the Police have to do, is sit on Springhurst Ave, and chalk our tires until they can give us a ticket, because we are going nowhere, and will move the cars three feet each time the tires are chalked.

A few minutes after that, the Police Car leaves.

In that area of Parkdale a great many houses did not have garages, and we were one of those houses, and on occasion if a house was vacant, we would contact the Real Estate Agent and get permission to park in the drive way of a vacant house for sale, seemingly indicating to others that someone was still living in the house, which I had at the house across the street, and low and behold I get a ticket in the drive way, now I'm pissed off again, and go to the Police Station with the ticket in hand and the Real Estate agent in tow loaded for bear.

I proceed to tell the desk sergeant of the situation, and he gets the issuing Officer in, who proceeds to tell him that there had been a complaint.

The Desk Sargent then tells the issuing Officer that tickets can not be issued on private property, that, that, is a trespass and that the offending cars would have to be towed, and he took the ticket from me and cancelled it.

A few weeks later we had again another problem with tickets during the night, and I went to the Cowan Ave. Station and made a complaint, and the Desk Sergeant said that they were acting on a complaint, and I ask him if they always act on a complaint, at which time he said that they did, and so I said to him that, I was complaining about all of the cars illegally parked outside the Police Station, and asked him to have them tagged.

The officer refused and we got into a shouting match, at which time he said that he could throw me in jail, and I said just do it because we will find out then why you will not tag these illegally parked cars, seeing I was getting no action on the complaints, I left, totally pissed off.

A couple nights later, after watching the late show I checked the tires and they were chalked again, this time I decided I would go over to the Police Station and take down the license plate numbers of the cars illegally parked outside the Police Station and send a copy to the present Mayor, Board of Control, Police Commission, and Ron Haggart, remember Ron Haggart columnist with the Toronto Star.

Ron Haggart investigated, and found that the cars illegally parked were Police Officers cars, and wrote a column on it.

A few days later I was asked to come over to Cowan Ave Station, and have a chat with the Boss Inspector Geno, and before going into the Police Station I left my car parked, legally, outside, with my girl friend in the car and said, if I don't come out in 45 minutes call me a lawyer.

On entering the station I go up to the desk Sargent, the same guy who a few weeks before threatened to throw me in jail, and tell him that I was there to see Inspector Geno, and he escorts me into Inspector Geno's office.

I have a very nice conversation with Inspector Geno, the off chute of which is, he says after the publication by Ron Haggart of my problem, the shit hit the fan, and caused a great deal of acrimony at the station, and goes on to say that as a result, he had all the cars around the station tagged, and three belonged to Police Officers, and when they came to him with them, he said pay them, also a couple were for others doing business at the Station which he took and cancelled.

Inspector Geno said that If I ever got a ticket any place in Toronto, come and see him with it and write no more letters.

When I got to this part of the story is when the lights went off, and I wondered what ever became of Inspector Geno.

Remember I'm telling this story to Eric and one other guy in the office.

I try to get the phone number of Cowan Ave Station, and find that Cowan Ave Station is long gone.

I phone Police Headquarters and ask for the whereabouts of Inspector Geno, at which time they ask, do you mean Staff Superintendent Geno and a big smile breaks out on my face as I said yes.

I then say I would like to talk with Superintendent Geno, and the person on the phone says that Superintendent Geno is in court every day because he was in charge of the Mounted Police Officers, whose horses had trampled demonstrators outside the Science Centre, when Alexei Kosygin, Premier of The Soviet Union was visiting the Science Centre in Toronto , then I was not so happy, and said there is no way I can get him then, rhetorically, at which the operator said Oh yes, here is his number at court.

The operator gives me Superintendent's phone number at court, and I phoned not expecting to get him but he answers the phone, I tell him my name, and he says he doesn't recognize the name.

I ask him if in the past, he was in charge at Cowan Ave, to which he says, indeed he was, I then remind him that many years before we had, had a conversation in his office at Cowan Ave, about my letter to Ron Haggart over parking tickets, and he began to sort of moan over the phone saying ohhhhhhhhh as it began to dawn on him what I was talking about, and he says, I remember now.

He asks me what happened, and I explain to him in great detail, and he moans something like Jesus Christ, and then says he is going to be tied up in court for months but never mind.

You go to the Willowdale station on Princess St and tell superintendent Scott the story, and tell Superintendent Scott that I, Superintendent Geno said to make the ticket right.

On my lunch break I head to Princess St. which was not to far away and ask for Superintendent Scott, at which point I am escorted into his office.

He asks me in a very polite manner what he can do for me, and, "cancel a ticket I say".

"Why would I do that for you" he says, and I say because " Superintendent Geno told me to tell you to" he then asks me "what are you famous for" I tell him nothing it's just about the ticket problems I had, and what Superintendent Geno had said many years before.

He then asks me if I had been disrespectful of the officer, and I tell him no, but what I had done as a result of my visit to the sub station, where I had asked the desk Sargent if this was the Police Station or the crazy house.

He sort of let out a little moan, I believe thinking was this guy, meaning the desk Sergeant for real.

He then takes the ticket, and straightens it out and I hear no more about it.

Allan

Another unforgetable Charactor .. John Fabrizi...

One day a short time after he had retired, he came down to work a bit later than usual, and asked me if I would take him to Wyoming Ont. near Sarnia, at which I told him I would take him anywhere, if he put the gas in the car, my 1951 Buick with the straight 8 and got about 8 MPG.

John told me that there was a bad wreck down there and that someone had called for his help.

I headed off to Wyoming with my brother Max and Robert S. after work, with a stop off at Pat's Steak on a Bun.

When we got there we found a big 6100 series Steam Engine 300 feet or so off in a field with eight or ten refer cars off as well with doors open, and sea food in cans all over the place, also the 250 Axillary from Sarnia, which was on it's side, it seems the greenhorn crew from Sarnia didn't know how tro properly use the machine.

We walked the scene while the Toronto Auxiliary was being set up, and it should be pointed out that, the Toronto Auxiliary was Steam so they needed water for the boiler, the Sarnia Auxiliary was diesel.

Initially the Toronto Auxiliary had water but because of the magnitude of the derailment would need more water several times.

The way they got the water was to call the fire department, in Wyoming I guess, and they would bring their pumper to the crossing and fill up the auxiliary with water that way.

The first order of business was to re rail the Sarnia Auxiliary which had to be taken to the Shop and checked over making sure everything was OK, then get busy on the rest of the wreck.

It's my understanding that the fire department didn't want any money for payment, but said they would like some of the seafood that was lying all over the tracks in cans, at which time someone gave the OK for that.

What wasn't understood at the time, was that this was a through train from Vermont, to Chicago
with no stops in Canada, as this was the shortest route, and none of these cars should, or would clear customs, and seeing as they had been off loaded in Canada someone caught shit.

There had been that evening in the London area and there were hydro poles down all along the road, and we were doing about 90MPH when we passed a car sitting just off the road, and I thought Cop, we needed gas anyway and a half mile up the road we pulled into a gas station when in turns a cop, I guess the one I noticed, he just gave us the eyeball and off he went.

We got back to work at 7:30AM to let Bob get his car and Max and I went home, we left work at 11:30 PM the previous night, went to the restaurant, then to Wyoming, inspected the wreck a mile up the track and were back at 7:30 which means we were really dusting our ass.

Allan

"Toronto's Finest" #1

Twice coming home after an afternoon shift at work, I was stopped by the Police, and to say the least it wasn't a pleasant Mimico and once from Bathurst St.

In late 1953 Eddie D. and I were coming home from work at midnight in his `1951 Chev. , it was a beautiful car fully equipped with automatic drive, and we had pulled up to a red light at Roncesvalles Ave, {named after a village in Spain} going to head east bound on Queen St. when a Police car came careening down Queen St west bound went through the red light, did a screeching U turn coming to a rest right beside Eddie's car.

I wondered what the hell are these guys doing and what do they want, and start to get out of the car, and when the passenger cop sees me getting out of the car he pulls his gun on me, which scares the shit out of me, I stand still, and he comes over and puts me up against the car.

The other cop is out of the car by now, and asking Eddie for his ownership, which Eddie provides, and the second cop with me is starting to search me, in a rather rough manner he jams his hand into one of my windbreaker pockets and then the other, and when he jams his hand into the second he lets out a little scream, because it was full of tacks, I was using to label cars that night, which we would do, using a railroad spike.

Like I say he lets out a little scream pulls his hand quickly out of my pocket with tacks sticking out of the ends of his fingers, after a few minutes when they came to the conclusion we weren't the Boyd Gang, they let us go, and we continued on home.

I could never figure out why they did this as I don't know how they could have even seen at this time of night who was in the car from where they came so fast, unless they were just playing some sort of game.

The second time I was stopped, I was walking home at midnight from an afternoon shift at
Bathurst St. and to get the streetcar you had to walk up an unlit ramp from the past the east unused entrance to Fort York, yard on to the bridge, then up Bathurst St. to Front St. where the car stop was.

I was just about to cross Bathurst St. when a cop car pulls up and asks me what the hell I'm doing, at which I say, I'm going to catch the Bathurst car to Queen, and they put me in their car.

They proceeded to ask me what I was doing there, and tell me that there had been break ins, at the concession stand at Fort York, and were checking out the area.

They had searched me and found me carrying a pocket knife, which most young fellows, Boy Scouts would do, and I tell them I need it for work, which I didn't.

I tell them that I had just come from the afternoon shift at Bathurst St. and that seeing as I was not in a big hurray, they should just drive down to the Yard Office and ask about 5 guys down there if I had just come from there or not.

For some reason or another they didn't want to do this either, they just wanted to carry on a verbal jousting match, and at some point they tired of this, made a U turn on top of the bridge and took me to the car stop at King St, by the Wheat Sheaf, all you ex railroaders remember the Wheat Sheaf fondly, I guess.

I get the King car west bound and proceed home, to Tyndall Ave in Parkdale.

I get to work the next day, and relate my experience around, and was talking to Danny M. remember Danny M., {world champion wrestler} and he tells me that he was driving his girl friends car one day when he was stopped by a couple cops, because the tail light wasn't working, they ask for the ownership which he couldn't provide because it wasn't his car.

They make him park the car and take him to a near bye station and proceed to question him, in a rather antagonistic fashion, and so antagonistic that Danny is getting a little hot under the collar, and tells them to phone his girl friend, and ask her if he had permission to have the car, and bring down the ownership, they continue to antagonize Danny and he desperately wants to kick the shit out of these two guys, and Danny says to me could have handled any four of them, but the Police Station must have had twenty five, these nit wits didn't know how much fire they were playing with.

Danny's girl friend comes down with the ownership and off they go.

I have had several run ins with the Police, that in retrospect are humorous, but at the time were infuriating, another I had was right in the Police Station at Cowan Ave. in Parkdale which I will touch on later, at some point, and also one at a Willowdale sub. station as well.

Allan

"My First Train Got Away" was submitted by Russ N of Huntsville he worked for New York Central. To enlarge the text please click on it and you should find an icon that will allow you to increase the size. It will come up on your screen.

" Car Checker "

I Started on the CNR Sept. 15, 1953, as a Call Boy, and was 15 years old, it wasn't long before I was 16 though.

I was Call Boy for a couple months, and then I got a Car Checker job which was better, because it was higher pay, and you began to learn something of the way the railway functioned.

The Car Checker had to label trains, and check trains on a form that was provided, essentially a list of the cars on the train, with blank fields indicating the required information, and on rainy days we would lightly coat the first sheet with kerosene, which would leave the carbon copies at least OK.

You would check the initial of the Railway Co ie. ATSF, PRR, RDG, CNR, etc., there were a great many different railway companies, you would then fill in the car number, how the car was labeled, if there was a home route label, and finally the tare weight, in tons, but seeing the weight was always in pounds you had to convert to tons, and this was easy, for example if the car weight showed as 46000 lbs, you converted it to tons by halving the first two numbers, hence 46000 lbs., becomes 23 tons, and if the car was empty you showed that to.

The Bill and Train Clerks would have bills for each load in the office with the weights of the contents, and after making up the train, would total the weights of the rail car contents, then the tare weights that was on the train list, to get the total weight of the train, which would have to coincide with the capability of the engine provided.

When I first got the checking job I was on round trips as most were, that is to say that we would label down a train and likely check back one, or if they were backed up on inbound trains, label down one and label another back.

Some of the Yardmasters and brakemen and Yard Foremen in the Speedway were very good, and could switch a train before it was labeled, using the switch list.

I was given three long trains to label one day, about 80 or 90 cars each, one train on the third track, which ran along the main line, so you had to be extremely careful, and watch out for Passenger Trains, and duck in between cars, if one came along, and seeing the track had a slight curve you had to listen as well.

I labeled the third track and one of the other trains, and when I came to the track with the third train to label, it wasn't there, so I figured it had been switched using the switch list, and so I threw the labels away and went back to the office.

The next afternoon at work I happened to be standing around, when I see the afternoon Chief Clerk Harold F. answer the phone, and can hear someone yelling over the phone, and even though I can't hear what is being said, I can tell Harold is getting shit, Harold every now and then interjects, with, he is a good lad Walter, he is a good checker Walter, he does what he is told Walter, and finally hangs up the phone.

Harold comes over to me and asks me what I did with the labels for the train the day before, and I told him it wasn't on the track, so I assumed it had been switched using the switch list, and threw them away, at which time he kinds of lets out a little groan.

Harold then tells me I have to report to Walter S. in a couple days to explain, in an investigation what happened to the labels, that throwing the labels away wasn't so bad, under the circumstances, except Walter S. was standing at the Speedway when the train was being switched, and noticed there were no labels on it.

I reported to Walter S's. office at the determined time for the investigation, Walter was Asst. Superintendent based at Mimico, and it became evident to me quite fast, that Walter was 3 sheets to the wind.

I was very experienced with drunks, as my step father was one, and before coming to Toronto I had worked in the Walper Hotel in Kitchener for a year shining shoes, so I got used to and knew drunks.

In the office with Walter and I, was a steno, by the name of Eddie M. ,who seemed like a meek and mild sort of guy, who was there to record the investigation.

Walter began shouting and cursing and ever now and then I would say yes Mr. S. yes, yes Mr. S. and he would shout some more, he was quite loud and I noticed the Eddie the steno was visible shaking.

Walter finally ends by saying, you might as well go downtown and quit right now, because if you are still around on Monday, I will fire you.

Well I didn't as you can see, and was around for 40 more years.

This wasn't my last Walter S. experience and my next would be in retrospect, a little funnier.

I liked the job at Mimico, but I didn't seem to fit in well, for a variety of reasons, my personality, their personality, or more likely a combination of both.

A checking job come up about a year later, on afternoons at Bathurst St., and I seemed to fit in right away, and in fact became to love that place, I was only there for about a year and a half when I got the Chief Clerk Job, I guess I was about 18 years old, and at Bathurst St. I was provided with a whole new set of characters.

Bathurst St. was much smaller than Mimico so everyone was much closer, everyone knew everyone else, we knew all the Brakemen, Carmen, Yardmasters, everyone, and their families.

Bathurst St. was much busy er for it's size than any other Yard, as far as I was concerned with the Main Line out of Union Station running through the middle of it, so you had to have your eyes and ears opened all the time, or as was said "stay on the ball" or " have an eye".

Most of the east bound lifts, north bound lifts, and trains for the Stratford Sub, were handled out of Bathurst St.

Bathurst St. was fed by yard engines out of Hanlans Point, Jefferson Ave Dist,. West Toronto, Downsview, Parkdale, Simcoe St. Sheds, the trailer ramp, the Rip Track, and a variety of inbound trains 458, 416, and the, Way Freights out of Georgetown and Rexdale, and Allandale.

It could be, and generally was very busy, with the out bound trains, first and second bullets, which went to Montreal 453 which went to North Bay, 407 which went to Capreal and Northern Ontario, 409 whose final destination was Vancouver, and a variety of transfers that took west and southbound cars to Mimico for trains out of there, not to mention the Interchange, cars coming from and going to the CPR at Parkdale.

When everything was going good at Bathurst St it was like watching a great show, and I enjoyed it, and did the job quite well.

The Bill and Train Clerks typed journals on the teletype machines, after lining up the bills, and finding bills for those loads that didn't have one, making labels for inbound trains, arranging for attention by the Car Dept of refrigerator cars that had charcoal heaters in the winter, and arrange for ice, for end bunker refrigerators in the summer, determined whether inbound livestock needed feeding, water, and rest, and a wide variety of jobs to numerous to mention at this time.

Bob W. told Les B. to go to the North Side and label down a train on track 7 and check back track 9, and Les said he would rather check down track 9 and label back track seven, and Bob says no, label down track 7 and check back track 9, the main reason being that they hadn't finished working on the train, on track 9 yet, but without telling Les that, because Bob thought, rightfully so, that it would be to complicated for Les to comprehend.

Telling and getting Les to understand, and do two jobs properly was a formidable task, anyway after telling Les about four times like a kindergarten teacher would tell a pupil, Bob being totally exasperated by this time reaches up and grabs Les around the throat, rams him down on the long Bill Clerk's desk, and proceeds to choke and scream at Les, Walter S. remember Walter S. from my set to with him at Mimico, was visiting Danny M. GYM in the next office, comes running out of Danny's office, and while I was pulling Bob off Les, Walter asks me what the hell is he doing? and I said it, should be painfully obvious, he's choking him, at that I got Bob off Les and Les went and did what he was told.

Walter I think forgot about me, five minutes after I left his office in Mimico that day, but he seemed to like putting on a show, he was a bad actor, but did impress a few people.

After coming down to Bathurst St I met Allan H, the day Call Boy, who was really a glorified messenger at Bathurst St., because there were no crews to call, and got talking to him, and he told me that he was in the outer office the day I was getting shit from Walter, and that ever since that time if he saw Walter he would disappear and stay as far away from Walter as possible.

Anyway I finally get Bob to release Les because as I explained to him, we have a railroad to run .

This was not my last exasperating experience with Les B.

Allan

" The Barclay Hotel"

Rule "G" was well known amongst railroad men as the rule that forbid the use of alcohol while on duty. It was also one of the most ignored rules in the On payday there was always someone around who was drunk, and usually more than one. Pay cheques weren't handed out until after 3PM on payday, and in those days the banks were all closed, and a cheque could not be cashed until the next day. You could tell the company where you wanted your cheque sent for pickup, and many men got their cheque at the Freight Shed on Front St.. Fortunately just across the street was the Barclay Hotel, and they were willing to cash your cheque if you let them keep the loose change part. For instance if the cheque was for $181.35 you got the $181.00 and they got the 35 cents.

So here was the scenario on pay day. There would be a big lineup of men stretching from the freight shed out onto Front St, as everyone tried to get their cheque. Then there would be a big lineup at the Barclay Hotel stretching out onto Front St. as everyone tried to cash their cheque, and of course once it was cashed everyone had to go in and have a few beers. It was a good deal for the Barclay all the way round.

But the one day that stands out in my mind at Bathurst St. was the afternoon the the Parkdale job pulled into the north side with a cut, and the foreman was telling the yardmaster in the tower what he had on his train via the talk back speakers. Hr rhymed off his list of cars saying .... and a car had to be taken back Barber-Greene. The Yardmaster said a car for where, the foreman repeated it again, and again the yardmaster says, a car for where, the helper F. was sitting on the bench outside the Northside shanty with his legs crossed, smoking a cigarette, and drunk as a skunk. When the Yardmaster to repeat it the third time , F pipes up and yells into the speaker , a car for Barber-Greene you stupid bastard. If you remember those speakers were very loud and this one was almost directly under the Bathurst St. bridge . Up on the bridge was a little old lady just about to get on a streetcar when the Yardmaster yells to F. "Why don't you take a long suck on this F." Well, the poor old lady's mouth dropped open and I thought she was going to fall of the bridge

When those guys got tanked up it was quite an education for a Young checker.

Gary M.

.......................................................................................................................

Gary, as I remember it, and I cashed my check at the Barclay Hotel a few times myself, they used to charge a fixed rate, like 50 cents or 75 cents I forget how much, but it was Brink's Express, and a couple of our guys worked for them from time to time, Frank E. from Mimico, and Ken D. and William D. from Bathurst St. I am sure if someone reads this they will remind us
of the charge.

Also.. I was standing under Bathurst St. bridge with a few others, and we heard screams coming from up on the bridge right over us, and when we looked up, a guy had a woman over his head at arms length looking like he was going to throw her over the bridge, and then we started to scream at him to put her down, which he did, and they disappeared, I was never sure if he was going to do it, or if they were just putting us on, anyway he had her right at the edge.

Allan

" More, Unforgettable Characters"
" Sid G"

Sid G. Car Checker at Mimico and old man when I first met him at Mimico probably 64 at the time and nearly ready for pension, it was told me that Sid was one of the guys hired on late in life because of the war effort mast of the able body guys were gone into the Armed Services from 1939 to 1945.

All Sid could do, was kind of shuffle around in the yard, and he couldn't make a fast move if he had to, consequently his nickname, Super Sonic Sid, I just mention the name to my kids today and they laugh even though they never knew him or of him.

In the winter you would see Sid shuffling around in the yard with snot dipping out of his nose down on to the stem of the pipe which was perpetually in his mouth forming icicles.

I was coming to work one day on the Queen St. Streetcar in a nearly empty streetcar, and there was Sid on the very back seat, with his Coal Oil Hand Lamp, and lunch pail on his knees probably dozing, when we crossed over the Humber River, and when you crossed over the Humber on the west side there was for some reason a bit of a jog, and I thought this guy is going a little fast for the jog, particularly if you are sitting in the back seat, I turned to look at Sid as the car hit the jog, and Sid went flying from one side of the car to the other, hand lamp and lunch pail flying, he picked up his stuff and went back to what he knew best, Dozing.

........................................................................................................................................

Jimmy W.

Jimmy W. was the Chief on afternoons at Mimico, and although I never knew him real well, he was known for his memory, or should I say lack of, he would send you somewhere and tell you to wait for his call, and the n forget all about you, so if you had any brains you would take your lunch and a magazine with you.

One time he sent me to label a train and wait for a call in the Order Yard shanty, so I took my lunch and a magazine and when he called several hours later with another job to do, I said I hadn't even had my lunch yet, so he said all right, check down a track, and cut out.

...............................................................................................................................

Tony F.

Tony F. was an extremely nervous man with white hair tending towards yellow.

It is my understanding, that before the War his hair was jet black, and that he was not so nervous, that the War had done this to him, or more precisely something that he had experienced in the War.

Tony midnight Chief Clerk at Mimico was good hearted but a pain in the ass, when at times he had a couple phones going at once, getting a call on the third, he would say to the caller very excitedly, "can't you see I'm busy".

I would on occasion cut out a little early, and would meet Tony on the way to work a half hour early coming up Eighteenth St, when I was going down, he would say good evening, I would do the same to him all the while wondering, why he didn't give me shit for cutting out early.

One day when I was still at work and he had just come in he comes to me and says I am supposed to give you shit for something, but I forget what, oh I know, you were seen throwing away hand lamps when you were finished, which I never did, and because I was standing by my locker which I shared with Freddie A. I showed him that in fact Freddie and I would collect them and in fact had a locker full, but it was a fact that some nitwits did thrown them away after their shift, anyway Tony says I know I was supposed to give you shit for something, and walks away, in all probability, it was for cutting out early.

.............................................................................................................................

Pat L.

Pat was an inveterate gambler, and liked to throw the dice, and on occasion, would come back from the Yardman's lunch room, where a smoking Craps game was going on, and say he had lost his whole check.
Pat was also a gun owner and on occasion would bring in his 357 Magnum and set up targets in an empty refrigerator car, which was probably mostly soundproof from the outside.
I wonder though, how he could stand the noise, and what the people would think if they came to the realization that these were bullet holes in the inside of the car.

.........................................................................................................................

Jimmy Dean

Jimmy Dean the Graveyard switchtender would cut out at the Yard Office and turn in his time ticket, when we would stuff it in an envelope to go to the crews office downtown.

The thing about Jimmy's ticket is, that it was a work of art, he was a superb writer, and we couldn't believe how beautiful he could make such a mundane thing as a time ticket look.

One day on my way to the cottage I met Jimmy in or around Parry Sound, and ask him what he was doing up there, and he said splitting wood, for a friend, that very year his friend wood let him use the cottage for a couple weeks if he would split about 5 cords of wood.

When Jimmy retired, not to long after that, one of the small gifts we gave him was the best, double sided axe we could find.

Jimmy was extremely touched.

I used the real name because no one could take any offense to this and Jimmy is long gone.

...................................................................................................................

" Happy L."

Happy L. was Bathurst St's answer to Sid G. of Mimico, without the pipe, but Happy, called that because he always seemed happy had worked for the railroad since a kid.

Because at the time, and until, I think the 1960's, you could go anywhere in North America, on a rail pass, and even Europe, Happy would take his holidays and just ride on the train all through the States and Canada.

Happy knew more about the interchange spots and rail connections than any two others in the area, and if someone was to go somewhere in the States by train they would always go to Happy to find out the most direct, or scenic route to take.

Happy was a life time Car Checker, and the last job he would do each day, was label the orders in Strachn Ave., jump on the King Streetcar that looped at the foot of Dufferin St., near the CNE, Canadian National Exhibition Gates, and head home in the east end.

Happy like others I could mention at work never took off his hat, which was a Fedora.

One day someone had brought a couple tarts in those little tin foil cups and left them around.

Someone else picked them up and put them on some stiff wire, and gently put them in the hat band of Happy's hat.

Happy is given the labels and off he goes to Strachn Ave to label the orders and go home.

Happy is riding home on the King car when someone gets on at Bathurst St. still wearing the tin cups in his hat band looking like someone from outer space with antennas in his head, and everyone on the car is looking at him like he is.


Allan

" Pot Belly Stoves "

I had an experience with one of the coal stoves in a yard shanty as well. I was working the Speedway at Mimico, and it was pretty cold out. Is it my imagination or were winters a lot colder in those days? Anyhow, I'm all alone in the speedway shanty with the fire going but it's still pretty cold in there. I put more coal on the fire but thought I would help it along. A carman left an oil can used for oiling the journals, full of dope, in the shanty. I generously poured dope oil over the fire, an d soon it was blazing to beat hell, and finally it was starting to get warm in there. A little to warm, Actually, the smoke and flames were starting to come out of the ash pan.
I didn't know much about these stoves and didn't realize the oil was running right through the grates, and into the ash pan which was full of live ashes. The live ashes lit the oil, and the shanty was quickly filling with smoke. I panicked but quickly pulled out the ash pan and threw it out the door. The smoke took a long time to clear, and I was afraid someone would come in before it did, and ask what the hell I was doing. My heart was beating for a while, though as I had visions of the Speedway shanty being burnt down. After that I put on an extra sweater when I came to work in the winter.

Gary M.

......................................................................................................................................

This story reminds me of some of the characters that used to work in the yard. There was always some little thing happening that injected a little humour min the day, and make you smile.

One day a yards engine was on spot in the lower yard at Bathurst St. The yard crew was in the shanty and the hogger was on the engine. It was time to make a move and the yard foreman came out of the shanty, and whistled to get the hoggers attention.

The hogger leaned out the window and yelled " Hey don't whistle at me I'm not your god dammed dog" , The foreman swung his arm in a big back up signal and said " when I whistle and go like this, you'll come.

Railroaders had a sense of humour all their own.

Gary M.

"Potpourri"

Robert [Bucky] B. was a very nice guy, and very sensitive as well, one of those people who would do almost anything for you, but very nervous, and to add to that had a bit of a stutter problem that he tried desperately to control.

To show what king of a guy he was, he had just come down to work the Interchange Clerk Job and even though I had talked to him many times on the phone about business, we never knew each other real well.

It was October and I had just bought a house in Richmond Hill and was worrying out load about the closing fees saying I would have to go to the finance co for a loan until my CSBs, matured in November.

He then says I'll lend you the money Al and I thought are you for real, but then tell him I need five hundred dollars, and he says fine I'll bring it in tomorrow which he does.

A second incident was, we were sent to buy a Christmas Tree for the Office and we wound up at a senior home where the trees were being sold, when they told us the price, probably about seven dollars, I proceeded to knock them down to five dollars.

Bucky never stopped worrying for months because we had two dollars knocked off the tree being sold by the seniors, at which time I told him never pay the asking price for anything.

He subsequently said that he had purchased a stereo unit and took my advise and saved quite a few dollars, which made me feel good.

Aubrey R. not a small guy, jammed himself into Bucky's locker which he shared and asked someone to close the door.

When Bucky opens the locker Aubrey shouts Ta Da, Bucky jumps back scared shit-less saying, bu, bu, bu, bu, you Asshole.
AER

.......................................................................................................................................................

Another one this time on Aubrey, as everyone in the Yard Office at Mimico knows, you would fall asleep in the office at your own peril and Dave [Porky] Russel seemed to have fallen asleep on the South Side of the long table that held the bill rack, and it was a table because it stood on legs and you could get under the table.

Bucky on the north side of the table says to Aubrey, look Porky has fallen asleep why don't you give him a hot foot.

Aubrey not averse to this kind of joke thinks that's a good idea crawls under the table and places a series of matches in the sole of Porky's shoe, and when he lights a match Porky shouts, FIRE, and throws a pot of water at Aubrey, who was non-plussed, to say the least.
AER

......................................................................................................................................................

One of the best Practical Jokers at Mimico was a Yardman by the named of George C. George was always causing funny problems for people around the yard, and he could tell a mean Joke to.

When George related the story after, it always seemed twice as funny, one of the better ones I was around for was, when he crawled up on the roof of the Order Yard shanty and stuffed the Axel, or bearing waste down the chimney of the stove, whereupon, Jack S. throws some kerosene into the pot belly stove to get it going, and settles back in the chair with his feet up on the desk preparing to have a little snooze.

Because there was no way for the fumes to go, caused by throwing kerosene on the fire, the stove blows up, and Jack comes running out of the shanty black as Tobey's ass from the built up soot in the pipes, he looked like Al Jolson, and he wasn't singing "Mammy"
Allan

......................................................................................................................................................

John [Brute] B. was a good Railroader but absent minded as hell, one day we decide the next day him, my brother Max and myself would go to the Sunnyside Pool swimming as it had been very hot that week.

John was about seven years older than me and lived not to far away and never drove a car so if we were going anywhere I would usually pick him up.

We go to the Brutes place the next day knock on the door his mother answered the door and we asked if John was up, and tell her we were going swimming.

Mrs B. his mother says, exasperated, no he isn't can you go to his room, wake him up and talk some sense into him I don't know what I am going to do with that man, meanwhile I'm thinking, I'm 18 and he's 25 and I should talk some sense into him, anyway I go wake him up, and he starts running around like a chicken with his head cut off, saying to his mother, where's the corn flakes, wheres my towel, where's the cocoa butter, wheres this where's that etc, you get the picture, he's finally ready and off we go.

We are all undressed getting into our swimming trunks when standing there naked as a Jay Bird he looks to me and says he forgot his swim suit.
Jesus Christ, Brute.

On another occasion we are at work starting on the afternoon shift when in walks Brute snapping his fingers as he was always doing whistling, and carrying his lunch bag, at which we say, what are you doing Brute, coming to work he replies, and we say it's your day off Brute, he throws his lunch on the table and says, here's my lunch, and promptly departs, that was, the Brute.

Allan
............................................................................................................................................