My Father Was A Railroad Man
Gus Holderness & Willie B Sykes
“Headaches and heartaches and all kinds of pain.
They ain't apart from a railroad train.
Stories of brave men, noble and grand,
Belong to the life of a railroad man. “
Last stanza of the Ballad of Casey Jones
by Wallace Saunders
My father was a railroad man...
So for my father and for all of the, as mentioned in the Ballad, brave, noble and grand African American Railroad workers I celebrate you ….
Because African American railroad workers played a critical role with the Underground Railroad and the freeing of slaves.
Because African American slaves made up a significant part of the workforce that laid the first railroad tracks in the south.
Because folks would like to know that in the 1800s African American Elijah McCoy was trained as an engineer, but could only find work as a fireman shoveling coal. Even so, he managed to patent a train lubricating devise that was so coveted that substitutes were refused and only the “Real McCoy” was accepted. Thus the coining of the phrase.
Because African American railroad workers maintained grace in the face of spiteful Jim Crow Laws that required their families and others who looked like their families to move to the colored part of the train when it crossed over the Ohio River from Illinois into Kentucky.
Because the unionization of the Pullman Porters was a major civil rights milestone for the national labor movement and for all African Americans.
Because African American railroad workers carried the Chicago Defender back to Fulton KY and to Jackson TN so that in the darkness of the struggle folks could know there was still a northern light.
Because MalcomX and Thurgood Marshall and Gordon Parks got their start working for the railroad.
Because Fulton historian and former railroad cook, Mr. Percy Lee has fully recovered from immeasurable life threatening train derailment injuries.
Because when I rode the train as a child, I was, carefully and discreetly, watched over by and cared for by an entire staff of dining car waiters (as my dad was a waiter) cooks and porters, so gently that I never even realized it.
Because everyday children of African American workers in the 50s were served exquisite foods, on tables covered with imported linens, and set with real silver, fine china and pristine crystal.
Because the children of railroad workers were given travel and educational opportunities that would not otherwise have been possible and that contributed greatly to the creation of a powerfully political Black Middle Class.
Because railroad men had that really great walk that comes from walking miles on a moving train balanced perfectly with one foot on either side of the aisle.
Because the faces of the men from the car were always unbelievably smoothly shaven with just a hint of after-shave and the cool cool smell of train air conditioning.
Because the men of the yard and the station, as a local poet reminisces “worked hard , played hard and got up the next day and start all over again.”
Because railroad men are so tough, bad, good, great, romantic, courageous, funny and delightful that a computer search gives the titles of more than one thousand songs about trains.
Because folks would like to know that the popular Ballad of Casey Jones, noted at the beginning of the story, was written by his African American engine wiper Wallace Saunders.
There are, of course, many reasons to celebrate the African American workers of the railroad. But mostly, I celebrate… Because my father was a railroad man.
So for my father and for all of the, as mentioned in the Ballad, brave, noble and grand African American Railroad workers I celebrate you ….
Because African American railroad workers played a critical role with the Underground Railroad and the freeing of slaves.
Because African American slaves made up a significant part of the workforce that laid the first railroad tracks in the south.
Because folks would like to know that in the 1800s African American Elijah McCoy was trained as an engineer, but could only find work as a fireman shoveling coal. Even so, he managed to patent a train lubricating devise that was so coveted that substitutes were refused and only the “Real McCoy” was accepted. Thus the coining of the phrase.
Because African American railroad workers maintained grace in the face of spiteful Jim Crow Laws that required their families and others who looked like their families to move to the colored part of the train when it crossed over the Ohio River from Illinois into Kentucky.
Because the unionization of the Pullman Porters was a major civil rights milestone for the national labor movement and for all African Americans.
Because African American railroad workers carried the Chicago Defender back to Fulton KY and to Jackson TN so that in the darkness of the struggle folks could know there was still a northern light.
Because MalcomX and Thurgood Marshall and Gordon Parks got their start working for the railroad.
Because Fulton historian and former railroad cook, Mr. Percy Lee has fully recovered from immeasurable life threatening train derailment injuries.
Because when I rode the train as a child, I was, carefully and discreetly, watched over by and cared for by an entire staff of dining car waiters (as my dad was a waiter) cooks and porters, so gently that I never even realized it.
Because everyday children of African American workers in the 50s were served exquisite foods, on tables covered with imported linens, and set with real silver, fine china and pristine crystal.
Because the children of railroad workers were given travel and educational opportunities that would not otherwise have been possible and that contributed greatly to the creation of a powerfully political Black Middle Class.
Because railroad men had that really great walk that comes from walking miles on a moving train balanced perfectly with one foot on either side of the aisle.
Because the faces of the men from the car were always unbelievably smoothly shaven with just a hint of after-shave and the cool cool smell of train air conditioning.
Because the men of the yard and the station, as a local poet reminisces “worked hard , played hard and got up the next day and start all over again.”
Because railroad men are so tough, bad, good, great, romantic, courageous, funny and delightful that a computer search gives the titles of more than one thousand songs about trains.
Because folks would like to know that the popular Ballad of Casey Jones, noted at the beginning of the story, was written by his African American engine wiper Wallace Saunders.
There are, of course, many reasons to celebrate the African American workers of the railroad. But mostly, I celebrate… Because my father was a railroad man.