Monday, September 6, 2021

Ride the L--Virtual Rides in Chicago

Some time back I posted several pieces about public transit in my home town, Chicago.  I have since found that there's more to be said, in this case shown.  Here are videos of rides on the city's L trains, the elevated railways, operated by the Chicago Transit Authority.

The first ride is a trip in the Loop, the city's downtown business and entertainment district.   I particularly like this one because of the camera placement--in the front of the lead car.  The sensation of going around a curve causes momentary wonderment (panic?):  Are we going off the tracks and will we fall to the street below?  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6oAVx6It5MM

The second ride is a morning, wintertime trip that a commuter might take.  This ride comes with colorful snowflake patterns on the window.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K-k5h-SfjNU&list=PL0sTc_CuqtURaOftjTXX5iRMCOasE1M9&index=14

I have ridden both of these routes, years ago.  However, I rarely rode the L to go to the Loop, because the subway was faster as was a commuter train on the Chicago & Northwestern Railroad.

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Monday, June 28, 2021

Streetcars, And All That

A previous blog post here dealt with train travel in my days gone by. 

Something was missing from that post--a way to get to the trains. 

Therefore, what I’ve done here is write about the system of public transportation in Chicago that took me from my home to the train station, or, for that matter, anywhere else in the city  That system included streetcars, buses, subways, and els (elevated trains).  

When I was growing up, Chicago had an excellent public transportation system.  I’ve read that it still does, and Bill Vandervoort, on his Chicago Transit and Railfan Website, makes a point that is just as true today as it was decades ago: “Chicago is an area where public transportation is extensively used, even by those who can afford automobiles.”

Our family did not have a car, and among neighbors who did own a car, it was a thing left parked during the workweek, in a garage, or sitting by the curb, stationary, like a chrome and steel altar, worshipped from across the front lawn until it could be fired up for a weekend drive to the country or used just to go for a spin.

So we walked, from our house to the streetcar line on Irving Park Road two-and-a-half blocks south, or one-and-one-half blocks north to the bus stop on Montrose Avenue.  These were north-south blocks, each one an eighth of a mile long.  An east-west block was half that distance. 

The Irving Park Road streetcar line was a major thoroughfare with grocery stores, clothing and department stores, restaurants, and bars.  The Montrose Avenue bus was good for trips to the beach or the fishing pier at Lake Michigan.  Both routes connected to other routes and types of public transit.

We lived seven miles northwest of downtown, where railroad depots were located, but you couldn’t get there from here.  A transfer was necessary, to the el from a  streetcar or bus line.  Some el trains rode the rails underground and became subway cars.  The subway went under the Chicago River, and puddles of water were always visible from subway car windows, allowing a rider to wonder if the tunnel was leaking, and, if so, would the whole thing collapse?

The trip to downtown from our front door took forty minutes to an hour via the city’s system of public transit.  An alternative was the Chicago and Northwestern Railroad commuter train, from a depot in our neighborhood to its terminal just outside the Loop.  The train was faster, more expensive, and didn’t run as often.

Photo shows a Chicago streetcar, specifically a CSL (Chicago Surface Lines)  Pullman #144, built in 1908.

The car was driven by a motorman--that was his job title--up front, to the right in the photo.  The conductor stood on the back platform and collected fares and handed out transfers.  The conductor also had the task of hooking up the trolley pole at the back of the car if it became disengaged from the overhead wire, which sometimes happened, especially when making turns.  Electrical power of 600 volts DC was supplied from an overhead wire.

When I was a kid I paid seven cents to get on board a streetcar and obtain a transfer.  The transfer was a coupon that allowed its holder to do an unlimited amount of riding and transferring in the system.  Prices have gone up since then, and I read today that the fare system is a complexity of zones, turnstiles, transit cards, and separate fees for fares and transfers.

When I was a child, I got a kick out of a streetcar ride.  As an adult I have ridden public transportation in Chicago, other U.S. cities, and England, and it's easy to find fault with it, but there was always one aspect of it that I truly liked--I could leave the driving to someone else.

Facts and photo are from William Vandervoort’s website https://www.chicagorailfan.com

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Thursday, April 15, 2021

Train Time ๐Ÿš†๐Ÿš†⛒⛒

In cruising around the web, I came across a site that took me back to a part of my life that I enjoyed tremendously.  It was also a part of American life that has largely disappeared.

The site is chicagorailfan.com, by Bill Vandervoort.

Chicago, my hometown, was and still is the railroad hub of the United States.  You could show this on a map of the U.S. by sketching in train routes, joining them at Chicago, and then dropping a big blob of ink on their common juncture.  It would be an ugly map, one representing some yet-undiscovered species of humongous spider-centipede with spindly legs and a bulbous body.

At one time, eight large terminal buildings in Chicago’s Loop—the city’s downtown commercial and entertainment district—were the arrival and departure points for the passenger trains of 47 railroads.  Many of those railroads are now gone, and half of the terminals have been demolished or put to other uses. 

Of those 47 railroads, I rode on six; I also rode trains that went nowhere near Chicago, including one in England.  I suppose there was a lot to gripe about when traveling by train, but I was always hypnotized by just sitting there, watching the world go by.  And wondering: What is it like to live in that town?  Who lives in that house?   Why have those people let their backyard become a trash pile?   Along with other pointless thoughts.

I was an economy class traveler.  Most of my trips were short, and if I did travel overnight I bought a ticket in coach and got whatever sleep I could sitting up. 

Amenities and creature comforts were better than a stagecoach but somewhat scarce nevertheless.

The cars were heated, but in a commuter train packed full of people a lot of heat wasn’t necessary.   Air conditioning could have existed--that I don’t remember; passengers could open the windows, but at the risk of being pelted by an ember from the stack of a coal-burning locomotive.

Food wasn’t served on the short-haul routes I generally traveled; you had to bring your own or go hungry.  Drinking water was obtained from a tank at one end of the car and consumed from a paper cup that was foldable, reusable, and disposable. I’ve read that in the early days of rail travel, a single community cup was used by all passengers until someone read about germ theory and pushed through a few basic ideas about heath and sanitation.

At one end of the car was a small closet with a lockable door.  Inside was a toilet.  Lift the lid and see … the ground rushing by.  At any given moment trains were crisscrossing the land depositing human waste hither and thither.  I think that passengers were cautioned not to use the toilet when the train was stopped, but I can remember a conductor walking through the car and locking the toilet door as a train pulled into a station.

I had my first train ride when I was eight years old, to go with my parents from Chicago to South Bend, Indiana, for a funeral.  In my teens and until I was about twenty-one, trains were recreation and transportation for me. Then I bought a car.

It was great fun, and I’d do it again, especially since I’m old enough now to use the bar car.

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Thursday, March 25, 2021

A Shot? I've Been Here Before

Earlier this month I spent a few minutes in a large building at Cal Expo, there to get a shot to protect me from the corona virus.  I was surprised at how smoothly the whole thing went—a long line of people slowly moving forward toward nurses who injected each person, scheduled the next shot, and then told each person to sit in a nearby chair for fifteen minutes. If no adverse reactions were observed during that period, we could leave.

I sat down and reminded myself, I’ve been here before.

When I was in elementary school in Chicago, we were told one day in class that we were going to be given a shot that would help protect us from a serious illness.  What exact language was used I don’t remember.  We were little kids in the early grades right after kindergarten, and I doubt that our teachers used words like immunization and inoculation. We were told, however, that it would hurt, but only for a little while, and that we could have our parents there if we wanted.

On the appointed day, the entire student body, close to 300 children, gathered in the school’s basement lunchroom.  Quite a few adults were there, easily visible, towering over the mob of children.  Both of my parents worked, and I had not asked them to be present.

Slowly, inexorably, relentlessy the line moved forward, and in the crush of people—children, parents, nurses, school employees—someone grabbed my arm and I felt a stick.  At least, I guess I felt something stick me, but you have to understand:  That was in the 1930s, a heck of lot of years have gone by since then, my memory might not be the most accurate, and I was a little boy with heroes in the westerns who could be gut-shot by a .45 and walk into a bar and drink half a bottle of bourbon.  I wasn’t about to say ouch.

What disease we were being protected against I don’t know.  I tried to get an answer from the internet, which gave me several choices—smallpox, whooping cough, diphtheria, scarlet fever, tuberculosis, and polio.  A vaccine for polio didn’t come along until years later, so it would have had to have been something else. 

Back to the present.  My fifteen minutes at Cal Expo were ended.  I hadn’t yet started frothing at the mouth or whatever kind of adverse reaction I might have had, so a nurse told me I could go.

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Wednesday, March 10, 2021

Name That Tree


The first time I saw this tree, I thought it had been damaged by wind or lightning.  Not so, for a similarly formed tree is off camera to the right.  And it leafs up in the spring, an indication that it's alive.

I admit to a certain amount of laziness, have not bothered to try and determine its name, and I'm open to comments as to what it is.

It's on the American River Parkway, Disabled Fishing Access, east end of the parking lot.

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Tuesday, March 2, 2021

Introducing the Official Car of the Generic Old Man

Pictured here is the official car of the Generic Old Man.  When you see this car, approach with caution!  Better yet, stay away!  The driver may go at any second!!!

Be on the lookout for this license plate . . . . . .  Forewarned is forearmed, or sumpin  ๐Ÿ‘€
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Sunday, January 3, 2021

My Cell Phone Is No More

I sat down at my desk a couple of minutes ago with my cell phone in hand.  I opened the contacts list and deleted all the personal information stored there.  I snapped open the case and took out the battery.   The battery went into a container where we store still-living batteries.  The phone's disemboweled carcass went onto a closet shelf where we keep Valhalla-bound ewaste.

Several years ago our neighborhood land-line service had deteriorated to a point where telephone company service technnicians were out here almost every day.  Their frequent presence caused my wife and me to joke with one of  them that we were going to set a place at the table for him.

As a self-defense measure--maintaining contact with the outside world--we bought cell phones.  Then our wired service got better.  My cell phone proved unnecessary and was a magnet for every robo-caller-nut.  After stalling for a while--Hey, I'm your basic male who likes toys!--I decided to dump it.

Anyone who needs to get in touch with me can use email or our home phone. ☺๐Ÿธ๐Ÿธ♥  

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