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(erielack) Cleveland-Buffalo

I shared this with the Nickel Plate list awhile back and since we have 
been talking about the Lackawanna terminal in Buffalo, thought you might 
enjoy this personal remembrance.  If you were familiar with Cleveland 
Union Terminal you'll recognize some of the description also.

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I grew up on the west side of Cleveland and my parents were from the 
Wyoming Valley of PA and several times in the 1950s we traveled by train 
from Cleveland to Scranton.  I think I remember most clearly the last 
time in November 1959 when my grandfather died.  I was eight years old 
and really excited about taking the train.  We got to ride down to the 
Terminal Tower in one of those Yellow Checker Cabs which was another 
plus.  While waiting for the cab to come I can remember my dad taking me 
aside and saying don't be to too excited because we are going to a funeral.

The Cleveland Union Terminal was one of those wonderful places.  From 
the perspective of a little boy, the waiting room was so huge and the 
large chandeliers were not quite bright enough.  There was this large 
painted mural back against the one wall with pictures of guys on horses 
and it looked like their clothes were coming off.  I wasn't sure what 
that had to do with trains and may have even felt a little embarrassed 
looking at it.  A man came over to the gate and advanced the black 
scroll with the white lettering ( kind of faded to yellow) that read, 
NICKEL PLATE ROAD, TRAIN NO.8, THE NEW YORKER....The wait seemed like 
forever.  People were dressed up, men wearing suits and ties and a lot 
of people smoking.  Even today when I smell a cigar, it can take me back 
a little to those days.  I didn't like getting dressed up normally, but 
here I didn't mind it so much because I felt "big" like those business 
men waiting around me.

Finally, the rumble began underneath the station.  It got louder and 
louder and slowly died off.  The man opened the gate, but you still 
couldn't go down until the passengers came up. I wanted to get down 
there in the worst way. They announced the train's arrival and 
destinations over the loudspeaker, but the sound system and acoustics 
were so bad, you could hardly understand what was being said.  We waited 
in line until that magic moment finally came to walk down those stairs.  
Down below it was dark and mysterious and steam was rising from under 
the cars.  On the other track were unlit New York Central cars.

We were directed to the through coach to Hoboken.  Climbing aboard, it 
actually seemed like two cars because of the divider in the middle.  I 
remember the large pictures they had in the coach, one of them was an 
aerial view of Cleveland Municipal Stadium.  Of course once in my seat I 
had to investigate and make sure everything was in proper working order; 
the footrest in all positions and the overhead reading light had to be 
turned on and off several times.  Finally, you could here the traps 
closing and the car began to glide forward.  We were on our way!

Fast Forward to Buffalo...

It was late and I could hardly stay awake, but I had to, not wanting to 
miss what was coming.  After all the darkness, the plunge into the 
Buffalo Station lit up the car.  The inside of the Buffalo Terminal 
seemed brighter than downstairs in the Cleveland Terminal.  Outside all 
that neat maroon and gray on other tracks.  I never got to see that 
around Cleveland.  I don't remember any people getting off or on in our 
car since everyone was going to Lackawanna destinations.  Pretty soon 
the car went completely dark and we started drifting backwards, then 
forward again as a switcher began pulling the train apart.  Since we 
were going to be here for awhile, my dad and I got off and went to a 
little all-night diner across the street.  (I had hot chocolate.)  My 
mom stayed on the coach with my sleeping sisters. When we got back on, 
the car men came into our coach and began turning the seats around so 
they faced the opposite direction.  That was noisy and disrupted 
everyone trying to sleep.  Some parents asked not to have the seat 
turned because they didn't want sleeping children to awaken.  Soon we 
were getting ready to go and fatigue was beginning to get the best of 
me.  Slowly the car began to move and I stayed looking out the window 
only until we left the station lights and were out in the darkness 
again.  Then I laid across the seat and gave in to sleep.  Lackawanna's 
New Yorker was on its way Scranton.

Sorry for the lengthy discourse guys, but after 47 years that's some of 
my remembrance of the NKP (and DL&W).

Mike Oravec


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