That was going to be the title of my Grammy winning blues album... of train songs. Train imagery. Train metaphors. Being sad, while on a train. Basically—just telling it like it is—American F-ing poetry man (with trains).
That was the plan at least, until I discovered I was lousy at guitar, can't carry a tune, and don't have all that much soul. But the concept was undeniably strong.
Magic Carpets Made of Steel
I have always found trains to be brimming with soul and romance. Trains are Grand Hotels stretching across the Canadian Rockies linked by rail. Trains mean arriving into Paris's Gare Du Nord, staring up at the giant clickity-clack destinations board, and only then deciding what city you would like to make your oyster next. Trains are sitting in the dining car enjoying a Sunday dinner of a roast, potatoes and peas, along with a pint of Pride, aboard the train back to London from the Cornwall Coast. Trains are arriving into the greatest city on earth via the greatest train terminal in the world—Grand Central.
When we go to New York, we skip the 1-hour flight and take the 7-hour train. It’s comfortable and relaxing. It’s gorgeous, running along nearly the entire length of the Hudson River. It doesn’t involve airport security or the enforced wait times before flights. The seat is roomy and comfortable, and the wifi is free. It’s door to door: departing from downtown Burlington followed by an easy walk to our hotel near Pennsylvania Station.
When our annual boys “baseball trip” was ready for a little re-invention this year, we thought to ourselves... Train? Rather than visit a baseball stadium, as we have traditionally done in the past, we decided to experience a classic college football Saturday. We picked LSU’s Death Valley for the game. Then came the train component. It was a bit convoluted. Actually, it was totally convoluted. First, we flew to Chicago. From O'Hare, we made our way downtown to Union Station. Then we boarded legendary train The City of New Orleans from Chicago to New Orleans, before detouring over to Baton Rouge for the actual game. Simple.
The City of New Orleans was made famous by the Steve Goodman song by the same name. It tells the story of the old Illinois Central train as its glory days are fading away into the setting sun. Goodman wrote it after reading that Amtrak (which had just been created by Congress to take control of the disparate and struggling passenger rail lines) was going to discontinue the train. He decided to get one last glimpse of America's traveling past. The song chronicles what he sees on the train and alongside the tracks while lamenting the slow but inevitable decline of passenger rail. It’s a wistful and nostalgic.
This is the Arlo Guthrie cover, which is better than the original (sorry Steve).
It was written in 1970. Somehow, 54 years later, The City of New Orleans rolls on. But it's hanging by a thread. Amtrak has always relied on government subsidies. And it has never been a darling of the Right, despite that party's liberal genorosity toward airlines and car companies. Amtrak has been on the chopping block for the entirety of its existence, but has had just enough champions, from both sides of the aisle, in states that still rely on rail, to eke out survival for another year.
While far more comfortable than a modern airline seat (a low bar if there ever was one), the glamor is long gone. But a few things still remain. You can still get a sleeper car for the overnight journey that begins in Chicago at 8PM. Except that, the sleepers are now so cramped that we had to take turns going into our double room when the bed was down, though we did have our own bathroom. You can still have dinner in the observation car. But the dining car’s white tablecloths and waiters are no more. Your sleeping car porter will still take your order, but when they return she is carrying a plastic bag filled with plastic-wrapped, not-quite-edible, microwaved entrees and plastic utensils.
Good morning, America, how are you?
Despite this, I still loved it. I slept well in my tiny upper bunk with the retention straps designed to keep you from tumbling out in the event of a rapid stop or a bad dream. I found the swaying and rolling soothing. When the sun rose over Tenessee farm fields the next morning, I delighted in watching it all roll by as we sped toward Memphis, sipping my weak, but by no means terrible, cup of coffee. The trackside scenery of bars, churches, junkyards and warehouses remains a fascinating time capsule of 1950s Americana that I think Steve Goodman would still recongnize.
Before long, it was time for lunch (same menu as dinner). Then I grabbed a quick kip back in the sleeper and before I knew it, we were gliding along Lake Pontchartrain and into New Orleans. I found the experience infinitely more satisfying than flying (ignoring for the moment that I had to fly to Chicago to catch the train). Somehow, it just seemed more authentic, soulful and real, to arrive in The Big Easy the old fashioned way—mile by mile, on a train.
This train got the disappearing railroad blues
It is worth noting that a mere 80 years ago, 75% of all long-distance passenger traffic in the U.S. still moved by rail. The decline was in part due to the relative speed of air travel and the comfort of a personal automobile, but only in part. Freeways and airports were (and are) a massive Federal Goverment expenditure. Railroads, until the 1970s were entirely private and had to compete on a very unlevel playing field as a result. So while Amtrak has had to rely on subsidies to survive, it is a drop in the bucket as to what the industries that replaced it continue to recieve every year.
While a survivor of sorts, Amtrak may not survive Trump and Project 2025. The predictions are dire at present at least. Unless "Elonia" Musk has a real hard-on for rail (and this seems doubtful), it seems that Goodman's song will finally become fully prophetic.
Until then, I'll be out there, on the rails, guitar in hand, still working on those blues numbers. I hope I see you there.
Good night, America, how are you?
Say, don't you know me? I'm your native son
I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans
I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done
ความคิดเห็น