Men at Work

Frédérick M. St. Simon

We fixate on the machine. But the office of the modern railroader belongs to a special breed — the two-person crew carrying what five once did, living a boots-to-the-ground life. A salute.

Night photograph of a Union Pacific locomotive cab, number 4335, with the crew at the controls — The office of the modern railroader — a crew at the controls of UP 4335, after dark

A not so common view into the office of the modern railroader. As railroad enthusiasts we tend to be more consumed with the overall inanimate physical plant of the railroad, e.g., the various equipment and technical aspects thereof, rarely – though not intentionally – considering the diligent women and men who are tasked with the tremendous responsibility of efficiently, expeditiously and, moreover safely operating longer, heavier trains over longer stretches of track than ever in the history of railroading.

Reduced to two-person crews per train, down from the traditional five-man crews of yesteryear, their responsibilities have increased exponentially, e.g., the demand for internalizing and properly interpreting verbal instructions coming from various operational personnel such as dispatchers, yard towers, other trains, etc. And did I mention the intensive, on-going training these railroaders undergo all while sacrificing the “normal” life of a 9-to-5 job; being on-call, having to be ready at a moment's notice, living a boots-to-the-ground life?

Regardless of what anyone might say, it takes a special breed to be a railroader, and my guess is that despite the rigors, the hardship, and even some of the belly-aching about the “job,” they wouldn't trade it for a 9-to-5 gig.

Indeed, and in deed, you are the primus pilus, the tip of the spear of the railroad. So we, who are trackside, photographing your train, salute you!