A J-4-d, 4-6-2 Pacific type. Pulled the Royal Train from Westminster BC to Kamloops Jct.
Painted in a royal blue — with the royal coat of arms — for service on the Royal Train.
The locomotive is seen here at Vancouver in 1939. Read more about the Canadian Royal Train, 1939
This picture was submitted by Isabelle Gould, Moncton, NB. Shown is her grandfather, Aime A LeBlanc B. 1879 – D.1959. He was an engineer/fireman for the CNR. He drove trains from Moncton to PEI, from Bathurst to Tracadie and also from Moncton to Campbelton. He retired around 1945. This just from Doug Joslin, Barrie ON. “CN 1008 was a Ten Wheeler, F-1-b, built MLW 19l2 for CGR #4528, scrapped 8-1954”
| John Cross of Pictou Co. Nova Scotia, Canada gave me a copy of the 150 pictures that he had purchased at a Donny Pidgeon auction and I wrote a second page for these pictures. Some of these pictures are very rare and some show the steam engines that were used in the Maritime Provinces of Canada. Please click below to view this page. |
Painting by Gary Fox. To view more of his work click here
James Michael Gowan is a short story writer from Owen Sound Ontario. He has given me permission to to publish this story of his early railway experiances with his father “for single use only”. This also applies to any pictures he has submitted to this or other web sites that I own.
My goal is to add photos to an anthology of my life’s experiences. I am a short story writer and the Son and Brother of CNR railroad engineers. I was born in Owen Sound in 1947. By age 6 my family had to move to London Ontario for my father to get regular work on the CNR. Rail service was dying in the Northern part of South Western Ontario.
I do recall very vividly those times when my Dad broke all the rules and took me (at age 4 or 5) with him on a night run from Owen Sound to London, Ont. That was the connecting terminus, via Stratford Ont. Dad would sneak me into the bunk house in London to sleep with him before the return trip to Owen Sound. I remember his laughter, and that of the Fireman, when they told me I had to shovel coal from the tender into the boiler. I was so small, just lifting the shovel was a challenge; forget having coal on the shovel. I did what I was told and watched the gauges they told me I had to watch. There was so few chunks of coal on each shovel full, it took a while for the gauge to tell me I could stop. I remember the whistle stop at Palmerston, Ont. in the pre dawn light where he gave me a few coins to run into the station and buy a sandwich and a pop. This was high drama for a young child, because I was told that my Dad could get into big trouble if I was seen in the cab of the train. I was a willing co-conspirator. I would sneak to the far side of the engine to re-enter the cab at these stops for snacks.
After the family moved to London, there were fewer times that my Dad could take me with him. One that sticks out in my mind was a passenger run from London (a shift change point of that era) to Windsor Ont. On the night in question, my father had awakened me just past midnight and asked me if I wanted to go with him on a run. I was about 10 years old, as I recall. I of course said “yes”. I was speechless when I saw the awesome steam engine that I would be riding in on the way to Windsor. It was a 6400 series. If my recollection is correct, it was 6403. Since this was a passenger run, the conductor was back in the coaches. I took his seat in the cab. The fireman and my Dad gave me a job; no shovel this time. I had to watch two gauges and turn a knob to keep the temperature values within set parameters. I was told that there was a conveyor that ran under the cab floor that fed coal from the tender to the boiler. By watching the gauges and turning the knob, I was activating that conveyor when it was necessary. I handled my assigned tasks for a bout an hour, before I fell asleep. When we got to Windsor, the fireman said I would make a good Conductor. I was so disappointed that we had diesel engine for the return trip to London. I am trying to remember the whistle sequence for level crossings. Was it two long, one short, then one long? I do remember that my Dad let me blow the whistle at many crossings.
One of my sad memories of my Dad as an engineer was the silences that followed an accident at work. He was very quiet for days after a trip he had been on that had caused death or injury to a person trying to race the train to a crossing and lost. Even though he had no control over the situation, he still felt the loss personally. There were two situations that rankled him. One, he had released some steam at a stop and some lady had her white gloves stained. The second was a stop on a passenger run that was not as smooth as he wanted, and an onboard CNR dignitary had his soup spill. For both of those MAJOR transgressions he received demerit marks on his record.
After my father’s death in 1975; at his funeral, I got an up close, in person view of how my father was viewed as a “railroad man”. This view was provided by his co-workers. At the funeral home, I was approached by a man who had only worked with my father for about 3 years. He said to me “Your father was one hell of a railroad man. I didn’t always agree with him, but I always respected him”. The next comment came from a man who had worked with my Dad for many years. One would have to understand the relationship between freight and passenger priorities on the rails to understand his comments. He said to me,” Your Dad covered more ground in less time than any engineer I ever worked with. He did it within standard rules and boundaries. I still don’t know how he managed to do what he did”.
I reflect back on a trip our family made to California from Ontario in 1963. I was 15 years old, pre-licensing age; therefore the designated navigator. I had watched my father drive a car and a large locomotive for many years. On our “cross country” odyssey, I was able to predict our arrival time at days end at the chosen destination within 5 minutes, every day, every time. Maybe I was a chip off the old “railroad” block.
I still cherish the memory of that wonderful, talented “railroad man” that was my Dad. I would give anything to re-live the arguments we had about my buying too many muscle cars in the late 60’s and early 70’s. My Father was a simple working man who had garnered the respect and love of people from Connecticut to California. I know, because they were ALL there at his funeral. Oh, to be able to walk a mile in the shoes of a Great Man. I miss him still today, My Father, the Railroad Man.”
Sincerely, James Michael Gowan
“The End of The Line“, by Terance Macartney-Filgate, a great film by the National Film Board of Canada. Click on the image to view.
These pictures were submitted by Jeff DeVouge, Truro Nova Scotia. “I came across the photo while cleaning out an old desk at the Truro Daily News, where I work in the mailroom. Being a rail fan, it was not going in the trash as the rest of the photos were. I’ve had the photo mounted on my wall ever since.” Photographer unknown
1949. This picture was submitted by Barry Kelley, Brantford,
Ontario
The following pictures were submitted by John Riley.
My grandfather Walter Riley was first a fireman with the Grand Trunk beginning in 1912 in Truro Nova Scotia, then in the 1920s became an engineer in Montreal. He was engineer of the pilot train that
preceded the Royal Train in 1939, and continued working in the capacity of engineer till the mid 1950s.I recently found photos of him standing in front of 6401, which I believe was the pilot train on the Royal Tour, another on Grand Trunk engine #518.
When I was very young my grandfather had a freight route from Montreal to Island Pond, Vermont. On a couple of occasions he would stop the train at the St. Lambert Station just long enough for me to scramble aboard. I got to ride in the cab sitting on his lap, and he’d let me toot the horn at upcoming intersections. My father would ride in the car and pick me up when we stopped 20 miles eastward down the line. Leaning out the cab, even on a slow moving freight was a real thrill for a child. They are great memories to this day.
At the end of his career his final route was from St-Jean Quebec across the border to Rouses Point NY. He lived halfway along the route at the little village of St. Blaise. From his house he d drive
his car over the border and leave it at the station. He’d pick up a Canadian bound freight and take it to St-Jean. There he d switch trains for an American bound one, and return it to Rouses Point. After picking up his car he went to a grocery store and regularly brought my mother a tub of margarine (which was illegal to purchase at that time in Quebec). My mother had a special spot in her heart for him doing that. So I guess you could say he began his railway career as a fireman, moved up to engineer, and ended it as a margarine smuggler, but to me I’ll always remember him as a wonderful
grandfather, an avid fisherman and great railroad man.
CNR No. 6029 is headed east after crossing Victoria Bridge from Montreal, and has just left the St. Lambert Station. It’s crossing the Victoria Ave. underpass that allows cars to enter the business section of St. Lambert from communities further south like Greenfield Park. This picture was submitted by John Riley, is part of the Normand Simard’s collection and dates from 1957.