Last September, I had the opportunity to visit Chicago. I was able to take much-needed photos in the Loop, but what I was very excited about was taking the train into the city. The trip almost didn't come off as there was an impending strike by the national railway workers. I was prepared to postpone as the train ride was that important to me, but in the end, these issues were sorted out, and the passenger train lines were back on schedule.
I've already written about my love of Chicago public transportation, especially the train, so this wasn't just a practical trip for me but a bit nostalgic. I took the western line of what was once known as the Northwestern Train line. I had never taken the western line, so I didn't know what to expect.
It was nice to see that some things hadn't changed over the years since I was last a regular on the train. A person was still selling tickets at the individual stations in the morning. Also, you could pick up a quick snack or coffee at the station. Sadly, the stations are locked up after noon, which wasn't always the case.
The quality of the tickets has dramatically improved, and surprisingly, they weren't tremendously expensive. They used to be artistically unimpressive, whereas tickets are colorful and appealing now.
Once in the passenger car, I noticed little had changed in twenty-five years. There are still the upper seats, and I had to claim one. Nostalgia is funny; as I made my way up the steps, I noticed they looked like they hadn't been cleaned since the 70s, yet it felt comforting!
The day I traveled was warm and sunny. Although the trip on the western line was new to me, it felt similar to traveling on the north line. The suburbs tend to have historic downtowns with more recent apartment buildings. The graffiti started kicking in as the trip became more urban. The buildings are older. Manufacturing buildings take over apartment buildings. A stop near the main terminal appeared mainly for train maintenance workers.
I had mixed feelings about arriving at the Chicago station. It no longer was the dark, high-ceilinged, bar-ridden terminal of my youth. It's bright and shiny, clean, and lacks any personality! The upside to arriving downtown was that I could take photos of the trains in the terminals. At first, I was concerned I would be stopped and questioned about taking pictures. Ever since 9-11, you never know what is considered off-limits. But no one stopped me. As a matter of fact, one of the engineers waved at me from his engine.
Seeing the train tracks spreading out from the main terminal reminded me of the blizzard of 1979. If memory serves me, the blizzard was nicknamed in Chicago "The Incredible Bulk" in tribute to the T.V. show The Incredible Hulk. Yes, we Chicagoans name our blizzards.
As a college kid, I foolishly ignored the weather report and took the train to downtown. From there, I walked a mile to school (yes, it sounds like a joke but I actually walked a mile, in a storm, to get to school!). Of couse the school was closed, so I had to turn around and I returned to the Chicago Northwestern Train terminal. I got there just in time to catch that day's last running train out of the city. It was packed! I wasn't the only fool who went downtown in a blizzard!
As I was one of the last people to get on the train, the only space left for me was to stand by the main doors in the vestibule. Every seat was taken. People stood in the aisles, on the steps, and in the entranceways. As the train slowly pulled out of the terminal, you saw small fires on the rails. This was done to keep the switches from icing. It was so bizarre to see piles of white snow, with parts of the track on fire, surrounded with black soot.
I'm sure the train was officially overloaded. I recall begging the conductor for my spot on the train. The train moved slowly and stopped every few miles. Once stopped, the doors were opened for a few minutes to let fresh air into to train cars. Being one of the last people let onto the train; I stood on the last step in front of the doors. If I accidentally fell out, it would have been a several-foot drop onto large rocks and snow. Because several people were standing before the train doors, the conductor instructed the folks behind us to hold onto our shoulders while the doors were open. Thank goodness the people behind us took their jobs seriously, as no one fell out of the train!
My trip last September was terrific. I took oodles and oodles of photos of downtown Chicago and trains. I received much-needed inspiration. I will work on a large painting inspired by the Palmer House this summer. You will see paintings and photos from that trip over the next couple of years while I look forward to my next trip on the train.