Lost memories of Prince

Many of Prince's old-timers have become part of history themselves, taking with them fond memories of the sights and sounds of railroading as it was meant to be.

Imagine a cool autumn evening in the late 1940s. A clear sky is illuminated by a nearly full moon. Low mountains sheltering the station silhouetted before the fading twilight. A cacophony of crickets singing their timeless songs can be heard above the gentle voice of the river.

With little warning, the calm of the evening is broken by the staccato rhythm of a steam locomotive. A low headlight casts a beam, piercing the night. Waiting passengers watch in awe from the platform as massive drivers turn over and over, finally coming to a stop beyond the east-end platform. The locomotive, Hudson No. 310, stands simmering, her air pumps throbbing impatiently from a heavy brake application. She is illuminated by the last platform lamp. Tall, yellow-gold letters spell out "CHESAPEAKE & OHio" across her tender's long steel flank.

Filthy from her long dash east, up the ever-narrowing river valleys, the Hudson has only a brief respite from her life of heavy service.

Passengers full of anticipation hurriedly board their car, prompted by a senior conductor who went to work on he C&O when Teddy Roosevelt was president. Baggage wagons roll along the platform, their tall wheels sounding out a "clomp clomp" with every joint in the concrete, accompanied by the rattle of hanging chains. Two sharp blasts from No. 31 O's deep whistle become four in a resounding echo which fills the valley like a symphony hall. Slowly, without a jerk, the train is set in motion. The locomotive pulls hard. The ever-increasing exhaust of smoke and steam are shot skyward, to hang motionless in the moonlight.

The last car glides by the station agent as he discharges his duties. Red marker lamps bathe the right-of-way with warm light as the train passes from view.

The valley is full to overflowing with the sharp repetitive exhaust note. The pace is rapidly increasing, with the engineer eager to reach Hinton and the comfort of a hot meal at the YMCA.

Gradually, the sound subsides, and as the last taxi cab departs for Beckley, Prince again settles down to the song of the crickets and the gentle whisper of the New River. The platform is empty except for a lone station laborer sweeping up the days accumulation of cinders and coal dust.

-Douglas A. Andre

Copyright Chesapeake and Ohio Historical Society, Inc. Jan 2001
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