Ch 12 - Everything here is big & heavy & wants to kill you

CHAPTER 12 EVERYTHING HERE IS BIG & HEAVY June 1979

On June’s first Tuesday, Racer and Andy departed Union Station as the Missouri-Pacific’s newest maintenance-of-way, also termed MO-W, employees, traveling first across northern Missouri before traversing Illinois. An unrecalled train transported them further from Chicago placing them at Philadelphia’s 30th street train station too late to check into a hotel but too early for even yard office coffee, a time and setting described by a single expression, miserable.

Their first order of business was a seven a.m. M-O-W safety meeting. While the safety topic that Tuesday may have been new to Racer and Andy, it was familiar to everyone else present, review of something known as Rule G. While no one present disputed Rule G’s prohibition of alcohol anywhere on railroad property, it was slightly ironic the attendees verified meeting attendance of using a shared Latrobe Brewery pen.

The meeting lasted forty-five minutes, its conclusion heralded by the sound of pocket watches being scooped from overall vest pockets.

As the MoPac pair departed, a foreman introduced himself as Vito. A rather warm, welcoming individual, he inquired about their work and its location. Similar to the Val computer room encounter, Racer summed. Weed Spray Engineer – MoPac. Vito provided a warning. Everything here wants to kill; it’s all big and heavy. Know when and where Blue flag protection features apply.

Softening, he added. Me, I’m an old head. Friday I lay-off for good to begin pension years, to play with my grandkids.

Racer didn’t fully understand what Vito meant by blue flag rule but made a note to find out. Andy worked a toothpick around his upper denture plate, speculating Vito was an older Deadhead. They shortly encountered a fellow MoPac employee, a business agent who had apparently flown there.

Within a few minutes they encountered a man identified by a CONRAIL name badge as Rolf Wurth. The Wurth person shortly

packed the three MoPac employees into a big C-60 doghouse truck and aimed it down a bumpy track access road.

Ignoring Racer and Andy’s sleep deprivation, Wurth rambled through a disjointed explanation of the weed spray process as if their training needed to end by lunchtime. While Wurth explained his relationship with Edwards, he neglected another biographical piece, that CONRAIL had dismissed him for cause in late 1979.

While Racer’s knowledge of German fell short of fluency, anytime he heard Wurth shout der begriff zurückstehen or stand back, he made sure he and Andy were clear of self-proclaimed Weeds-fear-me Wurth’s hose demonstrations. These displays corresponded to periods when Wurth appeared most bored, spraying chemicals onto track beds that hadn’t grown a weed in years.

No question fell beyond the breadth of Wurth’s self-perceived experience. When Wurth repeatedly stumbled with simple chemical calculations Racer politely intervened, but even polite redirection resulted in Wurth loudly expounding on something else. Dilution equals Tox-E-ology’ solution – Wurth.

Before leaving Philadelphia their MoPac agent friend shared an unfavorable assessment. According to him, CONRAIL’s loss control department had organized a series of meetings intended to allay herbicide fears among that railroad’s trackside neighbors. Assigned to a Donora, Pennsylvania-based session, Wurth apparently chafed at the limitations of playing a pre-recorded message, choosing instead to introduce himself as Weeds-fear-me Wurth, before expansively comparing parts-per-million concentrations with drops of vermouth in gin-laden bathtubs.

Attempting humor, Wurth pointed to a middle-aged attendee, proclaiming that man as a gin expert, in the process victimizing Donora’s sole Nazarene pastor. Amidst gasps Wurth teaspoon-ed a weed-killer solution into a glass of water, consuming the mixture.

Proclaiming the taste Zehr Gut (very good) he reassured those present they shouldn’t worry. The MoPac agent was specific in his instructions to Racer: Keep this guy on a short leash.

Following four days shuttling through both Philadelphia and Newark train yards, Weeds, trees & turf was positioned near the rear

of a train’s consist, proceeding westward across Penn Central main lines.

Railroad workers multiple times climbed the relatively unique Weeds, trees & turf trainset to visit with Racer and Andy. Without prompts or suggestions multiple visitors echoed Vito’s message they regarding the importance of the blue flag rule, one that prohibited coupling or train movements.

While its official name may have been blue signal protection, its description had often this was often shortened to merely blue flag.

Pre-Civil War origins of the flag or rule had actually strengthened across decades of what were termed rulebook meetings although its specific application to trainset-based weed spraying would require further definition.

Following more Wurth-led ramblings and sprays, Racer shared with Andy the basis for a four-station practicum he had devised.

George Kern’s contributions to the test station series design remains undocumented. While sufficiently knowledgeable in terms of smaller laboratory-scale valves, Racer reasoned larger railroad counterparts could present a challenge, particularly at night or during storms.

Wurth patronized Racer’s efforts until the younger man abruptly informed him that he wasn’t interested in more rambling or spraying, adding that the MoPac agent had nixed teaspoon-ing stunts. Post-pouting, Wurth preoccupied himself with a series of notebook entries.

Station One featured a bolt-and-nut collection.. Qualifying there required matching bolt-nut combinations using sometimes subtle visual and tactile clues. Racer timed Andy until his assistant turnedthe-tables on him.

Test Station Two featured a darkened photographer’s shroud that allowing Racer and Andy to practice night time component reassembly. Initially Racer let Andy win,, later he did not. They laughed while scribbling new record-setting times.

At Test Station Three they identified key components: Agitators, pressure assemblies, Swagelok™ fittings, hydraulic valve couplers and lots of other brass. Halfway across Ohio, Racer poured more

than a dozen unusable nozzles onto the floor, repairing most, but more importantly attempting to understand why they had failed.

At test Station Four Racer mated Swagelok™ fitting sets into a short run of copper tubing, routing the circuit through a tiny highpressure pump. Racer and Andy practiced leak-less re-assembly of the gadget, Racer recalling Kern’s credo: Always stronger, never weaker.

Racer pushed Andy’s reset button multiple times. This is what we are being paid to do here, keep trying. Attempting to give Andy a break, he hoped his assistant was homesick as opposed to alcoholdeprived.

Racer’s improvised test stations attracted others’ attention. It may have been a brakeman who relayed comments to a in Lancaster, Pennsylvania yardmaster. Perhaps that yardmaster spoke to a Pittsburgh-based road foreman-of-engines who coincidentally was the brother-in-law of a Missouri-Pacific superintendent. Regardless, the MoPac mechanical department sized-up Racer as a stand-up guy, someone who respected the blue flag rule When Weeds, trees & turf halted near a yard office, Wurth disappeared to use their telephone. Twice Racer overhead one side of what appeared to be a German language conversation, causing him to wonder if Wurth were a professional angler.

Corporate counsel, meaning the railroad’s attorneys, insisted Weeds, trees & turf must led by someone with an understanding of chemicals and toxicity. Possibly anticipating Rolf stunt-ers or trackside cranks, they fretted that the Weeds, trees & turf venture could become a loss prevention quagmire.

Weeds, trees & turf moved from Gary, Indiana to the vast Chicago rail yards. Ahead of its departure there a conductor climbed aboard to inform Racer and Andy that their freight agent friend had arranged for them to dead head back to Kansas City on an Amtrak train.

Abandoning misgivings, Racer said goodbye to Wurth. Andy energetically shook Wurth’s hand, adding how he intended to stay in touch. Absent from Kansas City for ten days, dead heading home bolstered their s spirits. While hardly railroad veterans, they had

survived their first pay period that had stretched from Philadelphia to Kansas City.

Racer shortly joined George at K-L-W. Peering in the store window, he viewed an untouched deli sandwich placed between two lit candles. Checking for any signs of change, he found none.

Kern’s greeting was of a dietary nature. I’m too full eating both sandwich ends when you’re gone. That was it, no inquiry about the railroad, not even a short-on-help lament. Kern asked. You around tomorrow?

Amidst word poverty, gezellig prevailed.

Around, yes.

Time-off, meaning days removed from the railroad was somewhat of a misnomer. Even the Preservation neighborhood experienced railroad-derived noise in 105-decibel increments, twenty more than the 1972 Noise Control Act generally allowed.

Rail yards served as tourist attractions, few trainsets attracting more attention than a parked wrecker train, its heavy derrick preceding several support cars. The wrecker’s presence necessitated parental drive-byes, complete with explanations applicable to 100-T (ton) stencils on the derrick’s sides. How many post cards mailed to country cousins memorialized curiously spelled Recker visits?

The Monday following, Racer and Andy located Weeds, trees & turf spotted behind the wrecker derrick. A yardmaster had perhaps seen the two trainsets as before-and-after disaster partners.

Racer and Andy borrowed a C-60 truck to could collect and organize a defoliant chemical shipment, 55-gallon drums shipped

by St. Louis’ Major League Chemicals. Racer asked the yardmaster to have Weeds, trees & turf repositioned on a Neff yard wash track, one fitted with high-flow water lines, remnants of the steam age.

They repurposed the water lines for a more contemporary purpose, filling Weeds, trees & turf’s along three umbilical-ed tank cars.

If the wrecker could lift enormous tonnage Weeds, trees & turf’s attribute was its capacity to hold and dispense enormous volumes of defoliant solutions. Herbicide concentrates were added in drumlot quantities, two banded 55-gallon drums diluted into a car’s tenthousand-gallon hold.

By comparison a crop duster’s tanks, ones curiously dispensing liquids, each contained fewer than 500-gallons. If large volumes characterized Weeds, trees & turf, they also encouraged patience.

Tank car filling could consume an entire shift, serious consequences accompanying either a spill or short-fill.

In June a Missouri-Pacific photographer was dispatched to record Weeds, trees & turf’s launch, staging a photo of Andy scanning the Kansas City’s skyline using Mel’s re-borrowed binoc’s.

Fortunately the Missouri-Pacific Times appeared only twice per year, allowing those crazy negatives to be conveniently misplaced.

Racer parked his newly-purchased old Rambler beside other work-and-back cars, each windshield blackened by a patina of rail yard dust and No. 2 diesel. Racer toted a D-cell radio and an olive drab Kern -USA duffel, returning to retrieve grocery staples, coffee and tea, sugar and salt, biscuits and crackers, plus long shelf-life potatoes and carrots.

Last to join the food parade were cartons of sweet and butter milk, plus a jug containing Donald Duck orange juice. Andy and Racer had agreed their food selections would extend beyond Wurth’s favored Spaghetti-O’s and Beanie-weenies.

Popping his car’s trunk, Racer shoulder-hoisted a disassembled PX-10 bicycle frame, one separated from its wheels. He also retrieved a bolt-action 20-gauge shotgun. Using the bicycle for concealment, he secreted the gun under a rail car seat. While the railroad forbade firearms, locomotive-less sidings forced compromises.

Train movement priorities placed Weeds, trees & turf after scheduled operations, following other M-O-W functions and even accessory issues, whatever those were. Their schedule was indefinite, mostly generated by a St. Louis clerk using a milepost listing.

By late July 1979 they had traced mainlines and sidings across the Sedalia subdivision before they were towed into Major League Chemicals’ St. Louis house tracks. Superintendent Edwards had arranged this visit so they could see that firm’s new advanced proportioning flow hook-ups. Ten minutes into a two-hour demonstration Racer concluded the flow hook-ups didn’t improve much over their wash track innovations.

Two accounts of Racer’s weed spray duties emerged. One described them as a high-order challenge, ones relevant to meteorology, botany and even plant genetics. The other description trivialized them as those belonging to a trackside Orkin-man, someone working and living in a beat-up baggage car featuring a total-loss toilet.

Across main lines, on extended setout tracks and along rail sidings and spurs, Weeds, trees & turf crawled at less than twelvemph, pausing with the arrival of dusks. While train crews may have been restricted by hours-of-service limitations, that didn’t apply to Racer and Andy. Occasionally someone provided a reprieve, mainly to evade holiday pay scales. But given Andy’s alcohol dependence, Racer was reluctant for them to venture far from Weeds, trees & turf.

Spectators hounded their odd trainset as if it were a circus train, rail fans pointing cameras at their spray booms. Incredulous onlookers sometimes pushed forward as if Andy were dispensing fairy dust while more knowledgeable persons collected children and pets before retreating.

Chemical petitioners sometimes waved 2-liter Coke bottles and plastic milk jugs at Andy. In the absence of Racer’s supervision Andy entertained pilferage with the enthusiasm of a Saturday store vendor smearing flavored-cheese onto Ritz crackers.

Once Racer discovered his assistant flushing a chemical mixture into an anonymous gully. That isn’t dishwater, Andy.

By 1979, trackside tangles, briars and hedges constituted vestiges of a botanical landscape known to the Indians and later viewed by Missouri pioneers such as Choteau and Guinotte. Absent defoliants, raccoons, foxes, opossums and deer claimed trackside habitat as a precarious site to raise their young.

Weeds, trees & turf consumed 55-gallon increments of expensive chemicals although they rarely documented plant growth outcomes and even less frequently retraced treated sections. Missouri and Kansas streams necessitated timed cease-and-resume spray sequences.

The range of chemical defoliants available incompletely matched the diversity present in vines, brambles and volunteer trees. Tiny

droplets, each less than one-millionth-of-an-inch in diameter, interacted with foliage as a chemical fog streamed along both sides.

Untreated, even a ten-yard segment might warp sufficient rail to create a derailment. Twice Racer found Andy sprawled over the operator’s chair. Worry-based insomnia merged into nightmares of a railroad official bringing news of a train crew’s fiery deaths, ones attributable to weed-instigated warpage.

Racer and Andy’s news sources included previously-read newspapers, ones matching the curvature of a conductor’s boot.

Sources increasingly reported herbicide-instigated weed resistance.

Train crews joked that trackside deer populations were more effective than Andy’s sprays, sometimes they were correct.

Trains ironically seeded row crops in track ballast when cracked boxcar floors sifted grain onto track beds. How much oddlyplanted grain was necessary to misalign a track or even a switch?

Racer and Andy’s winter transition from 1979 to 1980 was interrupted by trainset repairs at Coffeyville’s R-I-P track plus returns to poorly-treated Pueblo, Colorado, and another week spent near weedy Wagoner, Oklahoma. Racer returned to 13th and Olive to refine blanket order inputs, attempting to justify Weeds, trees & turf’s needs. His references were typically gallons-per-acre figures as opposed to more useful gallons-per-mile estimates. Calculations revealed Weeds, trees & turf consumed 200-gallons of diluted chemicals per sprayed mile but were complicated by dilution factors and complicated plant density data.

While herbicide prices averaged $5 per gallon, Major League tried to invoice more than that. The railroad consistently paid $300 or more for each 55-gallon drum of concentrated defoliant.

Racer quickly learned that railroad purchasing agents curiously favored artificially high per-gallon estimates, later taking credit for softball price reductions.

During a January 1980 budgeting meeting Racer indelicately scrawled $10-per-gallon on a planning board lacking further explanation. Others present neglected to note this estimate applied to undiluted drug chemicals, not diluted mixtures sprayed along the right-of-way.

His blackboard cursive generated a question. How many gallons per mile? Racer delivered an as-sprayed answer. Likely 150-200 gallons per mile on a diluted basis. The gap between Racer’s spoken message and his St. Louis finance counterpart interpretation carried possessed Mississippi River dimensions.

And that likely accounted for why the finance department representative multiplied $10-dollar-per-gallon figure by 175gallon/mile along a ten-thousand-mile railroad. The erroneous twenty million dollar estimate was eventually corrected but by then a case emerged for contracting out the Weeds, trees & turf function, strike one.

In early spring a Neff yard clerk signed for a dramatically smaller Weeds, trees & turf resupply, one insufficient to last through August. Racer and Andy spent most of March organizing and repalleting.

The bottom line, one beyond complicated calculations, was that an appreciation for the Weeds, trees & turf project had waned.

During an April 1980 meeting Racer heard a railroad accountant refer to their trainset as the Agent Orange Train, strike two.

By May 1980 most Weeds, trees & turf proponents had vanished but not all. Even though M-O-W crews could hi-wheel trucks down active tracks, mainlines were unsuitable for napping. Napping and other boondoggles were better suited to obscure access roads, particularly those recently cleared. M-O-W support carried a price, Lower the Boom, Agent Orange! Nuke ‘em, Sleepy, unkind although accurate references to Andy’s work habits.

A scheduling conflict emerged, one with a curious name, rail grinding, referring to powerful grinding wheels that smoothed track imperfections. Even when paired with water-cooling, rail-grinding created sparks, generating both pyrotechnic nighttime displays and trackside fires.

Ideally Weeds, trees & turf would treat right-of-way ahead of rail grinding; fewer weeds portended fewer fires. But when a railgrinder initiated a trackside blaze the result was a panicked telephone exchange in which a railroad official notified a rural volunteer fire department of a purposefully set, although non-arson blaze.

At a place alternatively designated as L-E-R-O-Y or other times Le-Roy or even Leroy, Kansas, rail-grinding threw strike three. The Missouri-Pacific mainline closed both ways while fire units rushed from as far away as Topeka, Kansas to extinguish a fire the railroad admitted setting. The fact Racer didn’t control train movements didn’t lessen the fire’s impact.

Well beyond L-E-R-O-Y, figurative smoke rose given accounts of Vietnam veterans succumbing to age-unlikely illnesses. Copies of St. Louis Post-Dispatch articles describing Agent Orange diseases had served as background material for 13th & Olive meetings important to Weeds, trees & turf.

On June 1980’s second Friday as they halted along a blue-flagged siding Racer inquired how much longer Andy needed for a sprayer repair. Hey Andy, the switch engine will be back soon. How long before I can pull the blue flag?

Not long, I’m cannibalizing sprayers because re-supply hasn’t reached here.

Racer observed how Andy had littered the track bed with broken spray heads. Given the tool room traded new-for-old, misplaced equipment counted against Weeds, trees & turf strained budget.

Pointing to the scattered heads, Racer wondered if this was the same person who had dunned students for glassware breakage.

Choosing to stick to specifics, Racer restricted his comments to the schedule. Let me know when you’re done. I want to tie-up early so I can drive you home before Otis goes to bed.

EVERY DAY ON THE RAILROAD WAS THE SAME.