In January 1951, when I was six, I went with my family on a short train ride from Minneapolis where we lived, to St. Paul on the other side of the Mississippi River. When we got home I wrote a report of the trip, in neatly printed letters on lined paper. It is my first travel writing--the beginning of a long life of writing down my travel experiences. On this twelfth anniversary of The Intrepid Tourist I’d like to share that report, along with a chapter from my memoir telling about the trip from today’s perspective.
The windows of our third floor apartment at the Northeast Neighborhood House faced Bottineau Park, where, beyond the chain link fence on the far side of the park, the tall brick building of Gluek’s Brewery rose above a web of train tracks. All day long, big black engines chugged along the tracks blowing their whistles and belching smoke as they shifted cars from one siding to the other and pulled boxcars and flatcars from the mills, factories, and breweries of Northeast Minneapolis out of the city. [Gluek’s Brewery, at Marshall Street and 22nd Avenue, was torn down in 1966.]
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| Les and Kay Scheaffer, Caroline and Steve, 1948, in front of NENH |
My brother Steve, barely tall enough to see over the windowsill, loved watching the trains. He wanted to be an engineer when he grew up. For Christmas in 1950, when he was three, he got a wooden Skaneateles train set with tracks, cars, and switches. His favorite book was the story of Tootle, about the baby train who goes to train school to learn skills such as how to pull the dining car without spilling the soup, and most importantly, to always stay on the tracks—even when playing in the meadow might be more fun. [Tootle, written by Gertrude Crampton and illustrated by Tibor Gergely in 1945, is part of Simon and Schuster's Little Golden Books series. As of 2001, it was the all-time third best-selling hardcover children's book in English. (Publisher’s Weekly, Dec 17, 2001)]
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| Milwaukee Road Train Depot, Minneapolis |
On January 4, 1951, Steve and I and our parents took a long anticipated train trip to St. Paul—a short but thrilling ride across the Mississippi River to Minneapolis’ Twin City. Our brothers, Tom and Pete, ages one and two, were too young to appreciate the trip and stayed home with Gladys, our live-in babysitter. The weather outside was cold but clear as we drove from Northeast Minneapolis to the Milwaukee Station downtown. At the ticket window we purchased our tickets, which, according to my account, cost 14 cents each, presumably the pro-rated portion of the Minneapolis to Chicago fare. Our train was the Hiawatha, a sleek streamliner with bright orange and maroon cars, named after Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s famous poem.
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| Hiawatha Train Engine |
The train was waiting outside under the roof of the iron train shed. We boarded at the club car in the rear and walked the length of the train, passing through the parlor cars, private rooms, dining cars, until finally we reached our coach. We settled into our seats after pushing the buttons to tilt them just right and got ready for the noon departure. Then with a bump and shudder and clang along the tracks the train began to move out of the station. The tracks hugged the banks of the Mississippi underneath tall bluffs before crossing over a bridge to the St. Paul station. The total ride: 30 minutes.
By the time we
got to St. Paul we were hungry so we hailed a taxi for a ride to a large
department store for lunch in the dining room. Afterward, we shopped for
souvenirs and gifts for Tom, Pete and Gladys before walking back to the
station. In the station lobby, Steve and I were fascinated by a huge model
train display where tiny engines circled on tracks through a miniature town.
Our trip back to
Minneapolis was in one of the new Vista-Dome Zephyr cars of the Burlington
train line. Its glass-topped seating area provided panoramic views of the
passing scenery. We climbed the stairs and crowded into one of the double
seats. The rest of the Vista-Dome was filled with a Scout troop--kids and their
parents--also on a day excursion. I should have been excited about riding in
the Vista-Dome, but according to my mother’s account of the trip, I asked to
leave and go downstairs to the less crowded seats so I could work on my new
embroidery set—my souvenir for the trip.
Steve’s souvenir
was a miniature village set, complete with tiny train and tracks. In my
mother’s account of the trip she says: “He came home and
asked for a piece of string. I wondered what for–and it was to hitch the wagon
onto the bike–to be a station baggage truck. He filled the wagon high with
baggage and was very happy reliving what he had seen.” Clearly Steve had
absorbed every detail of our trip to St. Paul. He didn’t grow up to be a train
engineer, although for a time he had a job as a bus driver. He has always been
interested in vehicles and mechanical things and how they work.
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| Milwaukee Road Train Shed |
The Milwaukee Road Railroad Depot has not had train service since 1971. While many of the surrounding neighborhood buildings have been torn down for urban redevelopment, including the Great Northern Station of the Burlington Line, the Depot has been preserved as a historic building and been converted to a hotel and restaurant; in winter it houses an ice skating rink. When I was growing up, the train stations in downtown Minneapolis were a transportation hub. Now, on my visits to Minneapolis, when I drive by the old Milwaukee Road Depot and look at the iron fretwork supporting the roof of the Train Shed, it brings back memories of my long ago train trip with my family to St. Paul. Someday I’ll have to go back in the winter and skate under the shed.
*****
From my mother’s
account of the train trip:
We returned to Minneapolis in the
Vista-Dome Zephyr–which was really exciting for Stevie–Caroline enjoyed the
outing in her own way. We happened to come back with a Scout Troop–about thirty
kids and ten parents doing the same jaunt. I thought Caroline would be
interested in them, but she wanted to leave the crowded Vista-Dome--where we
were all in one seat–to a seat below where she could embroider. Her souvenir
was an embroidery set–so much to Les’ disgust I showed her the backward outline
stitch and she’s been busy at it every waking minute since. She does nice work
too. (Kay’s letter to her mother, Jan 5, 1951)
