Re: (erielack) Cleveland-Buffalo

[Njricky2_@_aol.com]

Mike,
 
Now that's a great story. Thanks for sharing it. You brought back memories  
of when I rode EL from Scranton to Hoboken. I can still smell the seats. Not  
grungy or anything, just railroad and clean. Sure hope we can all get together  
again at the Coney Island Diner in Scranton at some point in the future.
 
All the best,
 
Rick
 
In a message dated 2/10/2007 1:17:45 PM Eastern Standard Time,  
MOEL_@_paonline.com writes:

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.

- -----

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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