Metrolink111: Chatsworth Stories Rob’s plaque hangs smiling on my wall now above my computer since Metrolink didn’t take it. We’re looking for another spot. As I write I’m waiting with bated breath, waiting and planning. And in the meantime I keep learning more stories. The people I’m meeting in the process of finding a spot for Rob’s plaque are always full of stories, Rob stories, sometimes, and mostly right now, a lot of their own stories. So take another journey with me both through another trip and learn what I’m learning. And hope I get to wave at Glen. Preparing for the Stories The temperature in Fullerton California on this Thursday September 24 must be at least eighty degrees as I drag a 28 pound bucket of sand home for the cats. The morning has been eventful but one key thing does not get don today: that is the doing of the laundry. Never mind. I spend $25.00 to get to Chatsworth and $5.25 to get back utilizing both Amtrak business class and Metrolink trains, train 118 from Chatsworth to Los Angeles and train 608 from Los Angeles to Fullerton. Train 608 is becoming my own personal favorite train because Glen is its engineer. If the schedule changes and Glen leaves it will be a different person. NO matter. Glen is my year accomplishment initiation into waving so you know his train is my favorite. Yes I’m obsessed with two things: the Chatsworth accident and waving at engineers, and maybe make that three things: finding out what people will tell me about Rob Sanchez. If I’m working on finding a spot for the memorial plaque I’m sure I’ll learn much more than I want to know, though about now anything will do, just as long as it’s credible. Boundless amounts of time and energy have gone into both things and so sit back and learn what happened today. The story is both in the past and present, so enjoy. On The Train 2:08 PM I am sitting on the train writing this the air conditioner hisses overhead making it easy to enjoy the trip. I am despite its sadness looking forward to going to Chatsworth. The train travels eastbound to san Luis Obispo. The sun beats relentlessly down on our train, the train station is hot, deserted, observing the regular rhythm of the day, the soft music at the café, the old rail fans or those who don’t especially enjoy trains sitting on the patio here. The engineer getting us to San Luis Obispo and all intermediate stops I’m sure is doing his or her job to ensure that we’re safe. I’m heading out to Chatsworth today to talk to Bob the man who sits on the platform at the Chatsworth station, probably during sun or rain, watching the trains, talking to the engineers. I don’t’ know how he does this but I’m going to find out. Today I’m going to go ask him about rob if he’s there. The incredible heat of September 24 might very well drive him inside or away from the station. Maybe he’s well prepared like I am with his water bottle. I do not know. He must be if he has been sitting out here for a year or more. He is a sworn railfan I’m sure. I don’t know how long he stays but he usually leaves after the 111 does. I wonder if he left after the 111 left that fateful day in September when he told rob Sanchez to have a good weekend. Am I the only one who remembers this? More importantly, am I the only one who cares? No one has posted to Rob’s memorial page for a few months, it seems except one man to say that Rob wasn’t deserving of any memorials. Two weeks ago I posted that I brought flowers for the engineer and laid them at Chatsworth. Rob’s memorial page became a fertile ground for malice toward an engineer who may have done his job well before that day. He may not have. The final report does not say yet how his job performance was before the accident. However I am sure that it will. Anyway what I’m planning to do today is talk to Bob and then give Gary a note to see if he can help me find ideas for this plaque. I don’t’ know why this makes me teary today. Maybe it’s because I’m about to hit my cycle. I don’t know, maybe I’m just always like that. The chatsworth accident has produced more than enough tears I’m sure, some of my own, but maybe not for reasons you might think. Sometimes I get sad because everyone heaps such dislike on the engineer. Maybe my perspective is wrong. Maybe I haven’t met all the right people yet. Give me time, I’ll meet them. By my calculations I should have about half an hour with bob before the 111 comes and we’ll probably see Bob H. The other part of my plan today is to talk to Gary and then give a note to Bob on the Ml118 returning to Los Angeles. Then I have a Metrolink ticket to Fullerton. I should arrive at home at approximately 7:04 pm giving me another hour at the station before departing, going home to get ready for work, and to say goodnight to my cats who now have fresh cat litter courtesy of my checking account and who don’t seem to mind the temperature inside the house. It doesn’t seem to get under about eighty in the apartment even if I have the air conditioner on so I choose to keep it off today and yesterday leaving the back bedroom and office windows slightly ajar. Right now we’re still sitting at Los Angeles Union station. The train hisses, the lights are steady, people get on and off the train. The conductor now announces that if this is your stop you better get off since the train will be leaving soon. I’ve brought my laptop on the train for the first time today. I don’t’ know where the flash drive went that has another Glen the railroad engineer story, and so I’m just working on the journal. I’ll keep you posted about what happens today at Chatsworth. Now we’re about to pull out of the station. I dig through my canvas railroad bag and my laptop case and finally locate the flash drive. I’m working on my stories about Glen Streicher, no relation, in case you’re wondering, to the glen who engineers Metrolink train 608. I think it’s ironic that they have the same name. It was purely an accident. But then my discovery of the railroad in its current obsessive form happened because of an accident so accidents take a big part in directing my life. I lie to call them divine appointments, milestones, or simply tripping in the dark. They keep me busy and writing and always on the road to new adventures. Amtrak is known for its comedy. This conductor on the train just said if you’ve been on this train a while I hope you’re enjoying yourself. If not there is a bar on the train. Other than that we can’t help you. Sometimes the train has comedians on board. Some say Rob Sanchez had a sense of humor. I find most people who are on tee clock at least when it comes to trains have a sense of humor Guess I fit right in. Perhaps I’ve truly found my niche. Chatsworth Stories When I exit Amtrak 775 today Thursday September 24 at Chatsworth Bob is standing on the platform asking me if I want to sit somewhere. At first I’m not sure this is the man who last saw Rob Sanchez alive, but I strongly suspect it’s Bob. There’s only one person sitting on the platform at Chatsworth today. Chris is inside working at the café. Chris the security guard is somewhere though I’m not sure where at this moment. It is hot and breezy in Chatsworth today, 104 Bob informs me. “Do you remember me?” I ask him. Bob loses his concentration rather easily so several of my questions get repeated throughout the stay today. I guess today my oral history experience has come in handy. I go with the flow of bob’s conversation, asking him questions about Rob Sanchez as the opportunities present themselves. I learn several things. Bob doesn’t think at least not today that Rob was that big of a baseball fan. The hot topic on September 12, 2008 was the Dodgers and their entry into the playoffs. Rob went to Las Vegas, he liked gambling apparently, and he said “See you Monday” to the railfans who had said the same thing to the engineer. “You saw him Monday” I said but Bob didn’t understand my meaning. My meaning was that he was seen on Monday, in the newspaper, and the Federal Railroad Administration later reported that the Chatsworth accident caused 7.5 million dollars in damage to equipment. It wasn’t the way Bob had intended to see Rob Sanchez on Monday. I’m sure no one had anticipated seeing him that way. I’m just glad that Bob was willing to share with me more stories about Rob Sanchez. I’m not like the lone Ranger who’s “looking for information” as he says once in his movie City of Gold.” I’m looking for stories. I want to know stories about Rob Sanchez. If I’m going to find a spot for a memorial plaque for him I need stories. Today my trip to Chatsworth is all about stories. When I set out to learn stories about Rob Sanchez I always find that I learn about the people who tell me stories about him. It’s important to get a sense today of bob’s story. Bob is now a volunteer for Metrolink. He announces the incoming and outbound trains and their destinations. He worked as a brakeman on a train he says though I’m not sure which kind of train. I’ll find out about that later. Bob's grandson is a tiger he says. He's 7 years old and he informs his mother that no he will not take him home to live with him. He enjoys the roll of spoiling much more than disciplining, I suppose. He informs me as we sit by the Metrolink ticket machine that his grandson and his parents are coming in from Nevada next week and that he’ll pick them up from Burbank airport. Apparently Bob has a long history with trains. But bob isn’t the only one who has a long history with trains. His brother lives in Reno and sells tickets for Amtrak. He's been on the train to Alaska Did you have someone who lives in Chatsworth he asked my reason for coming to Chatsworth today. No I came to talk to you I explained. That's nice,” he says and touches my left hand. I wonder if he believes me? It was true. I came to talk to Bob and Gary and Bob H. Well, I got two of those things done. It seems that bob and his engineer Mitch were on rules training today. ”Do you know who took Rob’s place as the engineer?” I asked bob. Indeed, just as I suspected, he did know. He tells me that at first Curt took Rob’s place then went back to the antelope Valley run. Now, Mitch is the engineer he says. Coffee Clutch Today, Chris in the café has no standing order for coffee. Since Bob and Mitch are on rules training, Chris doesn’t have to rush around. I asked this because at 5:00 pm, I wait to go make contact with Gary Rob’s trainer. I notice that Chris isn’t running around and so I ask him about it. I order Chris’s coffee, something I’ve been planning to do since two weeks ago when I came to lay flowers for Rob. The smell of that coffee stays with me for two weeks and so now today I order the largest coffee and I pay him four dollars for two bottles of water, one I got from Marcella in July and one I got two weeks ago even though I didn’t have any cash. So now I’m in the clear with the Chatsworth Café. “Do you have any icecream?” I ask Chris. No, he says, they were supposed to take the freezer today because they were getting a smaller one butso far no one has shown up to take the larger one. “what?” I say. “No icecream?” I am going to write this place off, I say, I wouldn’t be here except for a day in September of last year, and now, no ice cream? Funny thing is I learn later from Chris the guard that Chatsworth was opened in approximately 1992 as a Metrolink station. I didn’t think I had seen it on my first trip or even my second trip on the coast Starlight. It didn’t exist in 1978 though I was around in 2005. Amtrak’s Pacific Surf Liner stops there, but not the coast Starlight. I’m only kidding about writing off chatsworth. I couldn’t do that. Rob’s sweat, blood and perhapseven tears draws me here. I’ll be back. Just as the time arrives for Gary’s train to pull into the station, the café becomes busy and so Chris asks the other Chris to go out and help me make contact with Rob’s trainer. Talking to Gary I stood in the hot, breezy Chatsworth afternoon, the metrolink train stretching to my left, its blue and white engine purring, or hissing, depending on what you think a Metrolink engine should do, or perhaps what you think of cats. the engine idled high ready for the engineer's hand to command its very existence. I stood behind the line, surprisingly calm for someone who has spent every waking moment thinking of a deceased metrolink engineer and trying to find a place for his picture. Chris, the security guard at the Chatsworth Metrolink station stood to my left holding the letter I had printed earlier this morning at Office Depot. The four or five line text was a simple plea for help from a man who worked with Rob Sanchez professionally. the door opened and Chris explained that I had a letter for him. "Hi," said the Metrolink engineer, Gary is his name, a man who apparently has spent his life running locomotives. Here I was; this was my chance! I had the attention of someone who knew Rob Sanchez and what would I do with it? The engine hissed. I looked up; Gary's eyes were on me. "My name is Shelley," I think I said. "I'm the one who made the plaque for Rob Sanchez, Chris showed it to you. I wanted to say thanks so much for helping try to hang it." "You knew rob?" I think he said when I thought about it later. Then, I heard something about Rob but I didn't hear the first part of the interrogative. "Thanks for helping out," I knew I didn't have much time. I never thought when I became an advanced communicator that I'd have to present my idea in thirty seconds or less to a locomotive engineer sitting miles over my head with no time to spare. "Thanks," he said as Chris reached up and handed him the letter. Rob Sanchez's trainer put his hand to the throttle, or maybe his trainee did, and they were off to Simi Valley, through three tunnels, one of them #28 the place where the Lees dale Local must have surprised one engineer, or maybe even two. Chris and I stood by the tracks, they stretched out silently, the station deserted. He waited with me till I caught my next train. "Did you talk to Rob?" I asked him. He had testified that the light at the Chatsworth station was green on that day. "He came by to see bob at the station once when he was on vacation and I shook his hand," he said. I had taken a train from Fullerton to Chatsworth, talked to bob on the platform, drunk Chris's coffee, talked to an engineer, and now I found this out. Sometimes you learn the best information by accident. Projects, if you want to think of Rob Sanchez as Shelley's project, are like that. Rob Sanchez came down to Chatsworth to see bob on his vacation? I guess I think that's extraordinary. I probably would do something like that, or maybe not, especially on vacation. Bob told me that Rob went to Las Vegas some time before the accident. We stood there waiting for the 118 back to Los Angeles. the Metrolink111 had been late that day. Now the 118 was late. Amtrak seemed to be on time today. We did arrive about seven minutes behind schedule. "We're expecting an on time arrival in Chatsworth," said our conductor on the Pacific Surf liner 775 from Los Angeles to San Luis Obispo. That on time arrival turned into a seven minute late arrival due to a signal problem out of Burbank. I don't know what the signal problem was, but we got there and so now here I was ready to return to L.A. with one less piece of paper and my heart in my mouth. The train slid softly into place. "I want to sit behind the engine," I told Chris. We walked down to the front of the train and found a spot. Today Metrolink pushes us back to Los Angeles. I go back along the rails with more stories looking forward to my next trip. The next time I go out there I’m going to visit the memorial that was put up at Simi Valley. I’ll keep you posted. Hold That Engineer We get to Los Angeles. First I head in the wrong direction trying to locate track 8 where Metrolink 608 and glen the engineer waits for me. Then I turn around and go down the ramp where someone asks me if I need help. I explain I need help locating track 8. I remember the stairs. I go up the stairs and turn to my left and there it is. I go into the first open car. It’s the last car, far from the engine. I prefer to be nearer the engine so I can wave at Glen but I don’t make it there. I’m too nervous about missing the train. I don’t want to miss that train so I sit there next to a guy named Dwight who regales me with stories about his thirteen year-old nephew who is blind and who attends a school for the deaf and blind in Florida. He has attended a conference today and so he’s on his way home. He is a principal of a school he says. He’s a nice traveling companion. Today on the Metrolink 608 the conductor collects the tickets. I cant’ believe it. I’ve not had a conductor collect a ticket from me on a metrolink train. He takes the ticket and I Ask if Glen is the engineer. Yes, he responds surprised. “He’s always here. He’s taking off tomorrow,” he continues. He’ll tell Glen to keep an eye out for me. I explain that I like to wave at him since they held up the train for me two weeks ago. I know Metrolink trains wait for people but this gives me an excuse to wave, especially since I’ve been wanting to do that for a year, and, heck, I know his name. I didn’t get to wave at Glen today. No, I walk toward the front of the train and as I’m walking toward the ramp people keep coming to me and asking if I need help. The only people who bother me at the fullerton station are metrolink riders. Today their interference makes me angry because I was looking forward to saying hello to Glen. I’m sure however that had I not had interference I would have not been able to wave at Glen today because that train doesn’t sit there very long and he’s off for the rest of the run. Now my overwhelming question is this: does Glen know who I am? Somehow I always have a reputation for something even if now it includes holding up Metrolink trains. So who is my Metrolink engineer? Is he married? Children? Older? Younger? Curt says he looks about 55. I don’t know if curt is the best judge of age but it’s always possible. Glen is another person on my journey and somedays it beats thinking about a deceased metrolink engineer because this one can still smile and wave. He does smile and wave. Stay tuned we’ll talk more about him later because I’m sure I’ll wave at the engineer. I want my own engineer. I don’t want to talk only to the ones that Bruce talks to or the ones that bob knows. I want to go up and meet my own engineer. An then if others are interested I’ll share. It may be that Glen is a scoundrel. Well I don’t know about that. It seems however that he’s not a flake. Who Has the Power I arrive at fullerton and sit with Bob, our own local rail fan. He is in a chatty mood today. He tells me that conductors have the real power on the train. “You finally wake up to that?” he says. I know the conductors tell the engineers when to go but the engineers put their hands on the levers, those are the ones I want to meet. those are the ones who do the actual work. I guess I’m a nuts and bolts guy. Or girl. Something like that. We sit and wait for a while, Amtrak and freight trains pull up. bob tells me that he’s seen engineers back up trains and overshoot the track, derailing the car, which means someone comes and puts the car back on the track. So I’m moving along here in my pursuit of trains. I’m waving, smiling, nodding and making a name for myself. I leave at 8:30 after eating a grilled cheese sandwich with chips and a drink and having accomplished much at my trip to Chatsworth. Now I’m scared as hell, afraid Gary won’t contact me, afraid he’ll just ignore my letter, lose it, or won’t read it. It’s enough to bring teas to my eyes my thoughts. It doesn’t mean they are true thoughts, it only means that I have them. I am learning that this idea is going to take a lot of patience especially because of the circumstances. I don’t know if it’s just that I haven’t contacted the right people or if it’s just because this is a verytouchy subject. No one is ever as committed to a project as much as the project conceiver is. Sometimes it takes many years for things to happen. I can wait. While I’m waiting I have lots of stories to learn and people to meet. Overall, even with my tears and my anxiety over contacting or hearing from a locomotive engineer who had thirty seconds to spare and a life outside the cab, It has been a good day. My biggest regret, however, and the thing that I remember most, is that I sure missed waving at glen. It will give me somethign to look forward to.
Copyright © 2009 Shelley J Alongi |