by Mary Maker, Independent Writer
I was eleven years old when we moved to the house behind our restaurant. Directly across the street was Patee Park. On the corner was the “Park” Bank, next Grunwald’s pharmacy, Perry’s Grocery and our restaurant, “Bake’s Chili Parlor.” The main post office was located at 8th and Edmond but the closest neighborhood postal facility was housed in the old train station on 6th Street. It was a beautiful old brick station, nice waiting room; I seem to recall that the floors were tiled with small octagonal white tiles. There was a restaurant, today we might call it a snack bar, situated on the east wall, and rows of wooden pews for waiting travelers. The railroad station faced 6th Street, but I approached it from the rear which was paved with brick, where many hand pulled wooden baggage carts set high on iron wheels, were loaded or waiting to be loaded with luggage and freight.
If Mother needed stamps, or a package mailed, we walked down to Mitchell, west past an open fruit and vegetable market on to 8th Street. There we had to cross a myriad of railroad tracks (about two blocks), and through the station to 6th street. Nestled at the south end of the train station was “Station A Post Office.” The tracks were busy – sometimes one must wait for a train to pass. It was exciting to be in the station when a passenger train was waiting with passengers arriving or embarking: porters, uniformed conductors and brakemen, lots of activities. I don’t remember being cautioned about watching for trains, or to beware of tramps and hoboes. It was during the Great Depression and there were plenty of hoboes catching rides on freight cars those days. I suppose my Mother did warn me, but the warning boded no fear, and it was an errand I never minded running. Station A was our source of stamps, and I have the feeling that when we wanted to mail a letter, a trip to Station A was required. I don’t think my folks kept a supply of stamps – and we mailed a letter then for two cents!
I remember also going to the station to take a train to Kirksville where my Grandmother lived; it was an all day trip. Twice I remember taking a train out to Wyoming to visit Mother’s siblings. That was an adventure. We took food to tide us over as the dining car was out of our financial reach. We had green plush seats wide enough for two people and facing one another, so it was possible to scrunch up and lay down when night came. If we had been more affluent we would have been in the train sleeper car with berths, upper and lower– made up in the evening, and traveled through the moving train to the dining car to eat. I would dream sometimes that we would travel and use both the dining car and the sleeper. When we reached Wyoming, the tracks took us through a mountain pass between Cheyenne and Rawlins where the elevation was quite high. The high point was called Sherman Hill and there was a monument there to the workers who had built that railroad,
Also in those years, 1934-39, I had good friends whose father had a roofing business up the street from us. Mr. Gehrs housed his business in an old church. Their home was just behind the church. I suppose it was originally the parsonage of the church. It was larger than our house (two stories) and had a space for a little garden where Mrs. Gehrs raised Cleome. I remember it still. Three of the children and I would take Sunday hikes after church. This time we would go north to Olive, down to the railroad tracks, and up the tracks north along the river to the bluffs above the airport. Sometimes we would walk the rails, doing a balancing act, or we would gauge our strides to match the railroad ties to which the tracks were fastened. Often we would chant a Girl Scout chant “Left, Left, Left my wife with 49 kids to suffer starvation without any ration, etc.” We found a place up in the bluffs where two large boulders came together to provide a great outdoor fire place, and with our Girl Scout “know-how” of how to build a fire, we would roast wieners and make S’mores. We also watched for Jack-In-The Pulpits, May Apples and bittersweet, but didn’t know about the delectable mushrooms. Once again, I don’t recall any worry or fear on an excursion like this and we took this hike often when the weather permitted.
My next recollection of the old railroad station was when Bob and I were married. We were married about 2 o’clock in the afternoon, September 1943. We went down to catch the train to Minneapolis about 4 o’clock. Then my dream came true, we ate in the dining car and traveled in the sleeper car. We spent the first night of our honeymoon in the sleeper car (we didn’t use the upper berth!!) For the next two years, while Bob was stationed at Rosecrans Field we made several trips to Minnesota on the train. We took a train to Omaha, had time to explore the Omaha station and then took another train to Minnesota. During the last year of the war, we were able to buy a car and our days of train travel were over. Now there is a cement walk-way down by the river where one can hike –but only with dire warning to be wary and be cautious. I know I would love to take another train ride if the opportunity would present itself.