(rshsdepot) Kendrick, ID

[I95BERNIEW_@_aol.com]

From the Latah Eagle.
 
Bernie Wagenblast
 
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Madsen: Kendrick Depot an historical jewel
 
As you make your way through the deserted parking lot and step inside the  
old structure, a foreboding silence acknowledges your presence. The only sound  
that greets you in this vast building is the echo of your footsteps. Memories 
of  another day, when this structure once represented the lifeline of 
Kendrick,  sweep past. One of these memories, now over 40 years old, remains quite 
vividly  etched forever in my childhood remembrances of my kindergarten class and 
Miss  Sally Glenn.
 
I was five years old and as had been tradition the last day of kindergarten  
included an expedition on the Northern Pacific passenger train travelling from 
 Kendrick to Lewiston. It was the most exotic and exhilarating experience of 
my  young life. We stood on the tiny depot deck, wide-eyed children, waiting 
and  listening for the rumble of the train in the distance, craning our necks 
and  stretching as high as we could on tippy toes to catch a glimpse of the 
black and  red NP emblem. And then there it was! You could feel the excitement 
dance  through your body and roll through the crowd like a thunderous cloud. The 
engine  pulls into the station with screeching brakes and stops. Steam and 
smoke  surround the glistening behemoth that hisses and grunts as it sits idling 
on the  tracks and after a few minutes emerge the wizards who control the 
might of the  beast. From their bag of tricks, the wizards pull bandannas of fire 
red bearing  the name of the railroad and the majestic crown emblazoned with 
a monad of red  and black for each to wear. The group is assembled around the 
silver giant of an  engine with Miss Glenn and the Engineers flanking each 
side as parents capture  this momentous occasion on film. After what seems like 
an eternity the crisply  uniformed porter bellows, "All Aboard". My legs barely 
long enough to reach the  grated iron steps, but the nice porter helps me up 
and down. The engineers blow  the whistle and with a jolt and sway the train 
slowly moves away from the depot  platform.The passenger cars begin to rock in 
a gentle rhythm back and forth. The  locust and cottonwood trees whip by at a 
dizzying pace as the huge metal beast  clacks its way forward through the 
river canyon. Miles are swept away along  ribbons of cold steel while inside the 
belly of the beast the hearts of tiny  passengers are wild with enchantment. I 
remember looking out the large windows  where a tiny child could have a royal 
view of the earth awakening from the long  winter's sleep. It was an absolute 
thrill, a point of beauty at its  purest.
 
Though neat and well swept the depot today wears an abandoned look. The  
Northern Pacific clock no longer ticks. Nobody remembers when this elegant  
structure received its last coat of paint. The railways lines, coal bins, ice  house 
and a few windows are gone. Residents and commuters to Kendrick no longer  
gather on the platform with great excitement. The Kendrick Depot railway station 
 may not be an architectural wonder. But to most Kendrick citizens it was at 
one  time the mainspring of the town - the ideal spot to begin and come home 
to,  after long journeys, expeditions, travels and jaunts. If you never 
experienced  it, you will never know what it was like. Growing up in Kendrick 
stopping for a  train to pass was almost an everyday occurrence. In fact it was an 
actual  pastime in some instances. Sitting on the Depot platform or riding your 
bicycle  along the tracks trying to keep up with the hundreds of freight cars 
or  frantically waving at the passengers leaving. You could hardly contain 
yourself  as that dusty mammoth of a freight engine bored down the tracks 
anticipating  that tip of the engineer's hat or the simple swing of the lantern from 
the man  in the red car signifying the end of the behemoth. The clang clang 
clang of the  railroad crossing arms closing synchronizing with the flash flash 
flash of the  red lights and the crescendoing blasts of the train horn were 
sights and sounds  you could set your watch by. Traversing the tracks the tiny 
speeder cars would  dart down the tracks busying themselves and their occupants 
with the colossal  undertaking of maintaining the tracks, switches and sides 
rails. Club cab trucks  would carry employees from our citizenship to and from 
the job and at various  times throughout the day a familiar smiling face and 
friendly wave could be  viewed riding the rails.
 
But now a sense of loss, remorse and guilt sets in anew each time one  passes 
by this dilapidated building, which today is just a shadow of its former  
glory. Why did the city council turn its head away from this structure so  
entrenched to our town's heritage. Does it deserve this fate? What is the future  of 
this terminus? Will it languish itself into non-existence or will it make a  
comeback? It is quite unlikely that this depot will regain its former glory as 
 too many developments have taken place outside the purview of this station. 
But  shouldn't we consider preserving it as a heritage center of Kendrick as 
it has a  lot of vintage value. It would be an apt monument to showcase the 
rich history  of our community.
 
The parking lot used to fill with squeals of delight and laughter of  
children during Locust Festivals as the parking lot was turned into a carnival  of 
flying motorbikes, rocking horses, tiny trains, and tiny pony rides.  
Grandparents and Grand Marshals sitting in the shade of the depot sipping  lemonade and 
other beverages of choice reminiscing of days gone by and how fast  this 
little one or that little one had grown as they oversaw the set up for the  logging 
competition. Machines of yesteryear powered by steam and restored by the  
sweat and hand of those who took pride in making an exhibition of their  
operation snorted and grunted to life. The buckboards, wagons, carriages, and  horses 
tied the bumpers of horse trailers and trucks, conversations of this  year's 
crops plantings or the politics of the day discussed while leaning  against the 
back of the wagon or across the horse's rump. The marks on the depot  that 
symbolized Kendrick that symbolized I was home. The Northern Pacific is  gone 
and so are tracks but the memories are still there and indeed one of the  
saddest things in those memories was reading about a small town depot that  despite 
fervent efforts of its citizens to save was going to be forever struck  down. 
The world has witnessed many a strange and unexpected happening in the  past - 
all in the name of economic growth but I can hardly fathom anything more  
unexpected or stranger than an RV park of such limited spaces bringing economic  
and social fortune to Kendrick worth the cost of losing such historical riches 
 and community treasures.
 
Yet there are many optimists who hope and would like to believe that this  
depot can stumble back into its old self. Hope lies eternal in the human heart  
and I am hopeful that this is the little train depot that could,could inspire 
a  community to restore to life the heart and soul of this depot. As long as 
it is  situated and given the respect it so richly deserves it shall never 
stick out  like a sore thumb. Its pioneer charm still has a major hold for many 
residents.  The remnants of the railroads history in our charming town are all 
but gone and  the depot remains as the last standing icon of our uniqueness and 
richness as  Kendrick, a railroad town.
 
inspire a community to restore to life the heart and soul of this depot. As  
long as it is situated and given the respect it so richly deserves it shall  
never stick out like a sore thumb. Its pioneer charm still has a major hold for 
 many residents. The remnants of the railroads history in our charming town 
are  all but gone and the depot remains as the last standing icon of our 
uniqueness  and richness as Kendrick, a railroad town.  
Abbie (Millard) Madsen
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