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Dorothy Copus Brush Train whistles signal nostalgia Trains aren't as important today as they were
earlier in our nation's history, but for those who remember those
glory days just hearing the mournful sound of a train whistle
is enough to bring on a fit of nostalgia. In those simpler times,
it was an exciting family event to drive to a railroad crossing
just to wave at the engineer and then wave again as the caboose
passed by. A caboose is the last car on a freight train
and serves as a kitchen and sleeping facility for the train crew.
Once they have outlived their usefulness on the rails, they often
find a home on the ground. That happened at Chickamauga Elementary
School where the "Reading Railroad" was officially
opened last week. Parents had refurbished an old caboose inside
and out to serve the reading program at the school. What a fun
place to learn! My introduction to a caboose was at a picnic
in Ohio where a newspaperman invited a group to a secluded spot
where the center of attraction was his caboose "The Living
End." He had converted it into his home away from home. Not long after that, I spotted a baby caboose
in a backyard, and it became a feature story in a Cincinnati
paper. The father explained his five young children had been
begging for a place of their own. His wife agreed but was adamant
that it could not be a tree house, where someone could fall and
break a bone. His inspiration came as he watched a freight train
pass and, when the caboose appeared, he had his model. He drew
plans and enlisted the help of his 7- and 12-year-old sons to
be volunteer carpenters. Because much salvage lumber was used,
the playhouse cost about $62. The 8-by4-foot miniature caboose was fitted
with upholstered benches, and the little daughters made curtains
for the windows. A tiny cuckoo clock hung on the wall to remind
the youngsters of the time. On the roof was a TV antenna so they
could enjoy their favorite programs. The father chuckled when
he told me that the fire chief had stopped by one day to check
out the fake smoke stack. After that 1967 encounter with a caboose,
it was not until 1993 that I was passing through Ozone when I
saw a real caboose in a yard. Boyd Jones was the owner. He and
his wife moved to Crossville in 1948, where he owned an auto
parts store for many years. After Mrs. Jones' death he moved
to Ozone in 1984. His house sat on about 10 acres of land above
the falls. There was ample room for a caboose, something he had
often dreamed of owning. When he saw an ad offering cabooses for sale,
he headed for Chattanooga and the railroad yards. After a long
search, Jones found his caboose. It was of 1960 vintage and had
belonged to the Southern Railroad, a division of Norfolk Southern.
The officials there agreed to pull the caboose as far as Rockwood
on one of their regular runs. Jones found a professional house
mover to finish the job. Loaded on two lowboys, the 52,900-pound
caboose was pulled up the mountain and finally lifted onto the
railroad ties Jones had prepared. The dream come true arrived on Jones' May
birthday. That was in 1987, and all summer long Jones worked
at renovating his prize. When he completed the work, he had a
fine guest house for his three children and their families when
they came to visit. He also added a deck so he could enjoy his
quiet times just listening to the falls and birdsongs. It is strange how many cabooses have colored my life. If another one comes along, I'll let you know. · · · |