Out of the Frying Pan

Casey Jones

When I was ten or eleven years old, after reading a book about Casey Jones (the famous railroad engineer of the Cannonball, who was known as the man who always brought the train in on time), I couldn’t wait to ask my Uncle Clyde about him. Uncle Clyde was an engineer for the C&O Railroad and during World War I, he even drove trains wearing an Army uniform. I figured if anybody would know about Casey, it would be him.

Finally the day came when we went over for a visit. When we got there, he already had company. There was Whitie Sword, his fireman from the train, and his wife, and Bill Moore, another Engineer. Also, my Uncle Shep was there, he was a machinist with the railroad. Boy, was I excited, I couldn’t hardly wait to ask them my question.

We had a fine dinner and then afterward, as always, the men would go in the parlor to talk. Being a kid was hard because I wasn’t allowed to speak until I was spoken to. I thought I was going to burst, but I held my tongue and waited. Finally, my Uncle Shep turned to me and asked how I was doing in school. Uncle Shep reminded me of the scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz, and looked a lot like him, too. Not that he was brainless , he was just happy, smiling all the time, and loved a good joke or two.

That question from him was all I needed, I had my chance. “School is good, I found a book about one engineer by the name of Casey Jones.” Man, you could have heard a pin drop in that room. I mean, I felt like a penny waiting for its change, with the looks I got from that group. My Uncle Shep spoke up to relieve the sudden tension.

“Tell us what you read and let’s see what we can tell you,” he said.

So I proceeded to tell them what I’d read in the book. I said, “They said he was hours behind schedule and—“

My Uncle Clyde butted in real quick and stated, “No he wasn’t. His departure time was 11:15, and he left at 12:50, so that’s only one hour and thirty-five minutes. That ain’t hours like they’re saying.” Now my Uncle Clyde was one for keeping time and schedules. He always wore a pocket watch and checked it constantly. He’d even look to see if the news came on when it was scheduled to.

Then Mr. Moore spoke up. “Yeah, that’s what the schedule book said, some say he left even earlier than that. Why, they don’t even know for sure why he was on that train, it wasn’t his to begin with.”

Well, they started talking back and forth and I was doing everything I could to keep up. Mr. Sword spoke up and said that back when he started working the railroad as a muleskinner, he had met Casey in person. (Now in case you were thinking it, a muleskinner doesn’t kill mules and skin them. A muleskinner’s job was to ride the lead mule of a team of anywhere from ten to twenty mules, that pulled the wagon carrying the crossties and other equipment they needed to build the railroad.) Mr. Sword went on to say, “Even then, Casey Jones seemed to be too big for his britches.”

My Uncle Clyde piped up, “He should have paid attention to his flag man and slowed her down!”

And so it went on, each of the men adding their own take on the story. If I learned one thing that day, it was not to believe everything you read. I finally lost track and couldn’t quite keep up with the can of worms I’d opened. My Uncle Shep must have been able to tell because every now and then he’d look over at me and smile and wink.

When it was time to head home, one thing I was taught by my parents to do was to shake everyone’s hand and thank them. When I shook my Uncle Shep’s hand, he leaned down and told me, “If you’d like, I’ll come by in the morning and take you over to the roundhouse.” (The roundhouse is where train engines are brought in, it works like a large turntable to switch tracks, send an engine to the barn for repairs, or just to turn an engine around.)

The next morning, he showed up at my house, and sure enough, we went on over to the roundhouse. There were a lot of men there, working, and they all greeted me with a smile. Some pulled off one split leather workglove to shake my hand, some just tipped their hats as I waved. I had a lot of questions for Uncle Shep and he did his best to answer them all. At one point he took me to his workbench where he was a machinist. Up above the bench were pictures on the wall.

He pulled down one of the pictures and handed it to me. He explained that the train in the picture, though it wasn’t the Cannonball, it was one of the trains Casey Jones had been the engineer of. This particular engine exploded, tearing the smokestack and lantern clear off, and half the boiler.

In the picture, my Uncle Clyde was standing next to the engine and my Uncle Shep was sitting up on the front of it.

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This next picture gives you an idea of how massive this train was.
(Look how small my uncles look!):

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And this is my Uncle Shep.
He does look a bit like Ray Bolger, huh?

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