Furler and Uncle Phil
It was great to see that the Lehigh Gap article made it onto the cover. This place looms large in family lore. My greatuncle Phil lived just up the hill from the Lehigh Gap in Walnutport, Pa. There were spooky stories told about an airplane crash at Devil’s Pulpit (a rock outcropping overlooking the Gap), or how boys walking across the Lehigh & New England bridge had to dangle from the sides of the bridge when surprised by a train, unable to reach safety. The Lehigh Gap’s then desolate, rocky appearance, scarred by fire and the acrid emissions of the nearby New Jersey Zinc Co., did little to ease the spooky mystique.
Then came the great article by Scott Lothes with the stunning cover photo of a L&NE doubleheader. I could almost feel the ground shake! A small but valiant coal road in the heart of rugged Appalachian country – what’s not to like? I’ve never been to the Gap, but my interest goes back to my teens in the 1960s when Ambroid released a craftsman kit of a L&NE covered hopper.
Now, all I need is a model railroad, the kit to run on it, and a time machine to visit the real thing.
Mark Hymers, Fredericton,
New Brunswick
As a child, my first visit to the Lehigh Gap came on July 3, 1968, on a family visit to Uncle Phil for the July 4 holiday, a family tradition. Other than New York City subways, I had never seen a “real” train before. That evening, Uncle Phil took my father and I out fishing on the Lehigh River. We parked on the Palmerton side of the river. To our left was the Lehigh Gap and to our right in the distance was the N.J. Zinc plant. Other than
a low humming sound coming from the plant, all that could be heard was the gentle sound of the flowing river.
Just as it was getting dark, the sound of a distant horn echoed through the Gap. It was followed by a low rumble that grew and grew until it was the only sound that could be heard. There I sat on my uncle’s tackle box, nervously staring to the east where the sound was coming from, when a light appeared. The light grew closer and I could eventually see that it was a train on the other side of the river. The train seemed to be moving pretty fast, as the headlight traced a cone shape that lit up the rocky sides of the mountain. My eyes followed it moving from left to right as it rounded the bend and turned away from us, heading towards Lehighton. There was enough ambient light to see car after car rounding the bend. I had never seen such a long train. The sound diminished as the little light on the caboose speeding from us faded away. Then it was quiet again.
Though I would not become interested in railroads for another decade, this encounter certainly made a big impression on me. I went on to a career in the transit industry, and I have seen and ridden many trains. I think it’s pretty cool, and nice to know, that the first one I ever saw was LV’s Advance FFW-1.
Lou Millan, Somerville, NJ
Mixup of the Century
I loved the spotlight on the 20th Century Limited. However, the Century train numbers are 25 and 26; Nos. 27 and 28 belonged to the New England States.
Edward Hungerford wrote about the Century in the heavyweight era. His book is called “The Run of the Twentieth Century.” It is an easy read and done in the present tense, so it takes you back to 1930 when the Century typically ran in several sections.
Joe Beal, Loveland, Ohio
North Shore exposure
Regarding “Traction’s biggest what if,” on Jan. 10, 1963, I became a brand new Seaman Recruit in the U.S. Navy. We crossed the Hudson to Hoboken and rode the Erie to Chicago.
I was with a Marine (who joined the Navy for electronics training) and around 40 “juvenile delinquents” from New York City.
We arrived in Chicago on the 11th and rode the North Shore to Naval Training Center Great Lakes.
We were supposed the keep eyes straight ahead when marching, but one day I heard a “tinny” sound coming from the North Shore’s tracks outside the fence. When the company commander was not booking, I looked out and there was an actual Electroliner! I don’t recall the date, but it may very well have been the last day for the line.
John Frink, Carson City, Nev.
RDCs: the final, final word
I read with interest the recent RDC coverage because I worked at Harmon on the New York Central in 1967.
First, I want to correct an error in a Spring 2023 letter. RDCs had only two engines. One of the projects I did was analyzing the in-service time after overhaul before failure. It wasn’t pretty, but that’s another story.
Perhaps more interesting, in 1967 the Central’s RDCs that had been disbursed around the system were brought to Harmon for off-peak services on the Hudson and Harlem Lines. The electricians told me that no two were wired the same due to “field modifications.”
But they soldiered on.
Mike Fox, Atchison, Kan.
¶ Thank you for your civility in bringing this to our attention. While your note
about there being only two engines in RDCs rings true, their horsepower rating does not. Curiously, Trains’ ‘All About the RDC” story from March 1953 lists the engines at 275 hp production; however, Budd promotional materials for the “New Look” RDC reproduced here reference 300 hp output. — B.M.S.
One happy customer
Many thanks to you and the staff and contributors at Classic Trains for the hard work producing this Spring 2023 issue. A great magazine with many great features, especially the Ingalls Shipbuilding diesel, Union Railroad 0-10-2, North Shore interurbans, Lehigh & New England steam by the Furlers, and much more. It whets the appetite for next issue. By the way, those Union 0-10-2 engines look like they could pull everything a yardmaster could tack on.
A. C. Fries, Troutdale, Ore.
Northwestern Steel steam
Thank you for your article on Northwestern Barb Wire. Not only was the place one of the last in North America to run steam, but one steam locomotive that presumably “ran when parked” is still there. Last summer, a longtime railfanning friend and I found ex-Grand Trunk Western 8305, an 0-8-0 with tender long gone, deep in the weeds. It’s on the edge of the property of a privately owned grain elevator, but we photographed it with permission.
The history of Northwestern Barb Wire lives on!
Dave Kuntz, Ann Arbor, Mich.