EPISODE 93″ ALGOMA CENTRAL RAILWY “GOT THE DISAPPEARING RAILROAD BLUES” 1964 PART 1

EPISODE  93    ALGOMA CENTRAL…RAILWAY TO NOWHERE


“GOT THE DISAPPEARING RAILROAD BLUES” (Guthrie)

alan skeoch
August 2020




Early in the summer of 1964 I was  offered a job deep in a forgotten part of  Ontario.  
The only way in and out was on the ACR…the Algoma Central Railway.  A railway
that goes  nowhere really.  

The ACR runs from Sault St. Marie northward  to Hearst where it connects  with the
CPR transcontinental.   It is  a  railway of broken dreams.  The first builder only managed
to construct 58 miles of rail before going bankrupt.   Others completed the full 297 miles
but no one ever made  money.  Today the ACR is  a ghost line only going as far
as the mysterious Agawa canyon as a tourist adventure.  

There are people living along the line.  Not many.  Maybe fewer and  fewer.  The ACR
is  a rail line that links fishing camps.  Today, August 11, 2020,  I  am  not sure if the
ACR even reaches these lonely human outposts.  The current owner,  CNR, has
threatened to shut the whole line  down unless the federal government pitches in
and  bankrolls the line.

In 1964, my destination was  Mile 71 on the ACR.  A fishing camp from which we were
launching a mining exploration venture.  “Paradise Lodge”

The mist unusual characteristic of  the ACR was its public service to people like us…prospectors…
and others who hoped to catch a few fish.  There was no scheduled series of  stops.  

In 1964,  If we wanted  a  ride on the ACR, we stood in the middle of  the track and waved
a white flag or red  flag or old set of handlebar underwear or big bug net.  The huge train would  stop.

There  is nothing lonelier that the sound of  the ACR in a wilderness where the only answer is a  wolf howl.



Might I suggest you listen to Willie NeLson singing Arlo Guthrie’s  THE CITY OF  NEW OLREANS
…”the disappearing railroad  blues”

Arlo Guthrie – The City Of New Orleans Lyrics

from album: Hobo’s Lullaby (1972) 
www.lyricsfreak.com/static/images/txtstripes_large.gif); font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: 30px; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; min-height: 598px; position: relative;”>Riding on the City Of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday morning rail
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders
Three Conductors; twenty-five sacks of mail
All along the southbound odyssey – the train pulls out of Kankakee
And rolls along past houses, farms, and fields
Passing trains that have no name, and freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automobile

Good morning, America, how are you?
Say, don’t you know me? I’m your native son
I’m the train they call the City Of New Orleans
I’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done

Dealing card games with the old man in the Club Car
Penny a point – ain’t no one keeping score
As the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wheels rumbling ‘neath the floor
And the sons of Pullman Porters, and the sons of Engineers
Ride their father’s magic carpets made of steel
And, mothers with their babes asleep rocking to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel

Good morning, America, how are you?
Say, don’t you know me? I’m your native son
I’m the train they call the City Of New Orleans
I’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done

Night time on the City Of New Orleans
Changing cars in Memphis Tennessee
Halfway home – we’ll be there by morning
Through the Mississippi darkness, rolling down to the sea
But, all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad dream
And the steel rail still ain’t heard the news
The conductor sings his songs again – the passengers will please refrain
This train got the disappearing railroad blues

Good night, America, how are ya?
Said, don’t you know me? I’m your native son
I’m the train they call the City Of New Orleans
I’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done  

alan skeoch

PS   Our next stories  are framed by the ACR…that was 1964 when the line was privately
owned  for a  few years.  In 1965 it was sold and its survival was a question. A slow and sad decline ensued.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *