Hey everyone, just saying goodbye for a little while… I’ll be heading to Japan tomorrow morning for some rail adventures there. I’ll be riding my first shinkansen, or as they are more commonly known around here, bullet train. Supposedly the train that goes from Tokyo to Kyoto which I will be taking reaches speeds of 186 miles per hour… so that should be pretty interesting. Other things on the agenda are going to Wakayama prefecture to see a rather famous cat named Tama, who I have briefly mentioned before. I’m not sure how well this meeting will go. From my understanding, the general public can only see her through a sheet of glass. One of my Japanese coworkers attempted to arrange a “special meeting” with Tama for me, which didn’t turn out so well, since they said they didn’t really have anyone that could speak English with me. I did make a present for her though, which I’m not sure if I will be able to give to her.

This is Tama. She doesn’t seem to have any problems wearing hats and clothing…

Clearly I had to give her a new hat. A train conductor’s hat. And what better gift than to bring a train conductor’s hat from the USA? Okay, well, I tried. It is a pretty ghetto looking version of a Metro North conductor’s hat. Probably a little bit too tall, but about the right size around for a cat’s head. I took the pictures before I had finished painting the badge. I also took pictures of my cat wearing the hat, but his expression in the photo pretty much was, “I am going to kill you while you sleep tonight,” so I am not going to post it. I also managed to get a female tie, the ones the conductors wear, to complete the ensemble. (Thanks Gina!)

Clearly the best possible outcome would be getting a picture of Tama wearing that hat. Whether it will happen is another story. We’ll see though.

I don’t know if I will be able to blog while away (perhaps I will tweet), but when I get back I’ll be posting some of my rail adventure photos and stories. I don’t think you’ll miss me all that much, since I have a few posts already written that will post themselves over the week. I’ll be back on the 11th, so I’ll talk to you all then!

As I went through White Plains train station this morning, police were at the front of the station setting up a table in order to inspect bags. There was a K9 there as well, which actually caused a bit of commotion. A hispanic male walked up to the dog and began petting him, the police were not too thrilled about that. The man sort of shrugged and walked away, either because he didn’t speak English, or he was pretending not to be able to understand what the cop said to him.

If you’re having difficulty reading the sign from the picture, it says:

MTA Police Department
Container Inspection Program

Backpacks/Containers are subject to inspection prior to entering the mass transit system. Individuals may refuse to permit inspection and elect not to enter the system. Individuals will not be permitted access to the system with the uninspected container. Individuals who refuse the container search and later attempt to enter the system with the uninspected container may be subject to arrest.

I’m not exactly sure how long the police will be there, and how many bags they plan on inspecting (everyone’s or just a random selection of people). The increased security is most likely a response to the bombing attack in the Moscow subway on Monday, which killed 39 people.

This week I figured I would talk about a rather important railroad figure, Cornelius Vanderbilt. He significantly shaped the early history of what are now known as the Hudson and Harlem lines. You may recognize the name, bordering Grand Central Terminal is Vanderbilt Avenue, and even inside the terminal, there is a Vanderbilt Hall. Many Vanderbilts that came after him was known only because of the fortune that Cornelius amassed in first steam boats, and then later, railroads. He wasn’t much of a philanthropist, but in his final years he donated money to what is now known as Vanderbilt University in Tennessee. Apparently many students there have little clue for which Vanderbilt the school was named. This hardly surprises me, as supposedly some children nowadays think that it was Buzz Lightyear, that was the first person to walk on the moon.

Cornelius Vanderbilt, who was nicknamed the Commodore, certainly was an interesting character. In fact, if tabloids as they are now existed when Vanderbilt was alive, they would have loved him. Tiger Woods is absolutely nothing in comparison to Vanderbilt. Cornelius certainly enjoyed his prostitutes. It would be tabloid front page news!

His married life wasn’t much better. Both of his wives were in fact related to him, they were cousins. And even more strange, his first wife, Sophia Johnson, was a cousin on both his mother and his father’s side of the family. It was from one of his prostitutes that Vanderbilt acquired syphilis, which he spread to his wife. Though all of this occurred before penicilin existed. The preferred treatment for syphilis at the time was mercury.

Dementia brought on by late stages of syphilis marked the final years of Vanderbilt’s life. He had built his fortune with small ships, and later steam ships, but it nearly doubled when he got into the railroad business. However it is uncertain how much of this was of his own doing, or the work of his son, Billy. Vanderbilt had eight daughters and three sons. William, known as Billy, was designated as Vanderbilt’s heir. Cornelius hated the idea of his fortune getting split, so upon his death the majority of it was left to Billy. Billy was not his favorite son, however, and was Cornelius’ second choice as heir. George Washington Vanderbilt, Cornelius’ favorite son, died before he was twenty-five from tuberculosis after serving for a time in the Union Army during the Civil War. It was only after his death that Billy became the chosen heir. Vanderbilt’s other son, Cornelius Jeremiah, was essentially disowned. He was explicitly barred from ever referring to himself as Cornelius Vanderbilt, Jr. He was an epileptic, which didn’t win him any favors from his harsh father. But it was his dealings in fraud that truly formed a wedge between himself and his father, who had little desire to pay for his fraudulent son’s debts.

After the death of George Washington Vanderbilt, Cornelius began to groom Billy in his role as heir to the Vanderbilt fortune. He was installed on the boards of various railroads that his father owned or influenced. In his later years Vanderbilt was not completely there due to syphilis’ effect on his brain. However the name Cornelius Vanderbilt instilled confidence to people involved in the industry. So he served much as a figurehead in his later years, with his son Billy making all the decisions. The building of Grand Central Depot was one of such actions.

In his later years, Cornelius married a far younger woman: Frank Crawford. The marriage, however, was mostly one of convenience. Frank was a distant cousin from Alabama who had very little money and ran the risk of becoming completely destitute. Billy on the other hand did not approve of some of the prostitutes that frequently ended up in his father’s bed, and thus desired his father to be married. In fact when Frank arrived as a guest of the Vanderbilts, her mother accompanied her. Vanderbilt’s family didn’t care which of the two he married, the mother or the daughter, but they did want him to marry one. Upon Cornelius’ death his wife received little of the man’s fortune, as Billy had arranged a prenuptial agreement prior to the marriage.

After Cornelius’ death the majority of his fortune was given to Billy, however several of his daughters, and his son Cornelius Jeremiah, contested the will. Their desire to have the fortune split more fairly amongst the Vanderbilt children failed, and not long after Cornelius Jeremiah committed suicide by putting a bullet in his brain.

Although Cornelius is long gone, he is forever in the history books because of the large fortune he amassed, first through ships, and later associated with various railroads such as the New York and Harlem (today’s Harlem Line), the Hudson River Rail Road (today’s Hudson Line) and the entity to which he leased both, the New York Central. In the Historical Archives there are several items regarding Vanderbilt, including several obituaries, and a piece about his life that took up several pages of the New York Times the day after he died.

Vanderbilt’s ego was so immense, he figured that many young ladies, so enamored with him, went to purchase railroad bonds because on each bore his own likeness. The archive also has several railroad bonds on display.

Cornelius still looks out on the city of New York every day. His statue is located under the main facade of Grand Central Terminal.

Please note: This post was written based off of the information in the biography Commodore: The Life of Cornelius Vanderbilt written by Edward J. Renehan Jr. Some of the statements made in the book (including the syphilis and prostitutes) have been questioned by other authors for authenticity.

This morning in White Plains there were people standing outside the station handing out papers about an Earth Day Commuter Challenge. I figured I’d mention it here, especially since when you sign up for this “challenge”, you can get a free $10 gift card to Dunkin Donuts. You must live in either New York or Connecticut, and carpool, vanpool, ride the bus or the train, ride your bike or walk. At the time of writing, the site has 60 more gift cards available, so if you are interested, you have to sign up soon. Entering your trips also makes you eligible for a drawing for a $100 Stop & Shop gift card. If this sounds interesting to you, head over to www.earthdaycommuterchallenge.com

Last Thursday there was a great little reception at the Transit Museum Annex in Grand Central to mark the opening of the exhibit Where New York Began: Archaeology at the South Ferry Terminal. It also served as the unveiling of the store in the Annex, which had been closed since January for renovations.

I must admit, the redo of the store is quite attractive. The lighting is quite nice, and I do like the added touch of the glowing blue along the bottom. So for you people that like to shop, I’m sure you will enjoy the store a lot more than before

As for the exhibit itself, I do recommend you take a visit. Especially because it is free. Everyone likes free things. Plus it gives you an interesting look into the history of the city. When I hear the word archaeology, I tend to imagine this foreign concept of studying ancient and distant relics, like mummies. But this is archaeology that is in our own backyard, under something so modern as a subway station. It seems an odd coincidence that the artifacts found under a subway station highlight a time when transportation itself was far more difficult… and when “The Battery” referred to a place where guns were kept, as opposed to the park where the tourists tend to go.

In fact this is the area of the city where Cornelius Vanderbilt got his start, before he ever thought about getting into railroads. Vanderbilt, of Dutch heritage, ran various ships in New York Harbor, at times even ferrying materials for the government to build defenses for the War of 1812 in the vicinity of the Battery. (After reading a biography about Vanderbilt, I could probably say way too much about the man, but I’ll save that for Friday). Many of the artifacts unearthed were Dutch in origin… in fact the Consul General of the Kingdom of the Netherlands, Mr. Gajus Scheltema, was in attendance.

A photo taken by one of the fans of the blog, that would be the Consul General on the left, and me on the right

Anyways, enjoy the photos I took at the event, and if you do get a chance, be sure to check out the exhibit for yourself. It is located in the Transit Museum Annex in Grand Central Terminal, and it will run until July 5. (And as previously mentioned, it is free).

I got slapped today at the train station. I don’t know what other way to put it. Let me explain: I have an addiction to Coca-cola. I needed my Coke fix this morning, and so I headed over to Waxman’s News in White Plains after getting off the train. Gary frequently provides me my morning Coke fix. Anyways, a few steps ahead of me was a woman with a cane, and a boot on her injured foot. Gary was being all nice, going to the cooler and grabbing the water that she claimed she couldn’t reach. I figured I’d be nice and wait until she was done and paid, and then I’d go and grab my coke. Except for the fact that she was taking absolutely forever. This woman was indecisive. “Well, how much are those juices over there?” and “What about those ones there?” If you are going to inquire about the price of every item in the store, it would be great if you didn’t block the entrance to the store for everyone else. Just saying.

Ultimately, I got fed up with waiting. I am a fairly small person, and I knew that without a difficulty I could walk right behind the woman. My backpack is really the big thing that would add to my bulk, so I took it off. I prepared to step behind the woman, and all of a sudden, SLAP. She slapped my leg (rather hard too!) and shouted at me, “Watch my foot!” I responded, “Lady, I see your foot,” and I could tell that my voice was speaking in a (much deserved) rude tone. There were a lot of other things I could have said, but I was just like, “f- that” and I got my Coke and got out of there.

Unfortunately the incident made me forget the other thing I wanted to do this morning. I saw Mutt this morning. Mutt is the nickname of (another) one of the crazy-type people that hang out at the station. Yes, I’ve given them all nicknames. Mutt is short for Mutton Chops, though the guy really just has long sideburns, and not true mutton chops. Nonetheless, that was the first name that came to mind in my head, and it stuck. Mutt isn’t too incredibly crazy. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him speak. But he always has this expression on his face, a look of being perpetually lost. He hangs out in the waiting room and just sits. And every time he’s at the station, he has to go and make his “rounds.” You see, Mutt has an OCD habit. He needs to stick his finger in the little door of all the pay-phones to see if there is any change inside. He also checks each of the automated ticket machines. What I wanted to do for amuseument’s sake was to take a dollar bill, and put it in the pay-phone downstairs. It would probably confuse the hell out of him. Though now that I’ve posted that, the amount of people sticking their fingers in pay-phones looking for dollars in White Plains will certainly be on the rise.

And just a note: I’ve been rather slow in processing my photos from last Thursday’s gallery opening at the Transit Museum Annex, but I’ll be posting them later in the day, I swear!

At work this week a coworker came in and asked us if we could do him a favor. His daughter’s 2nd grade class had each drawn pictures of what they wanted to be when they grew up. He wanted to know if we could scan each drawing for him. Which we did, and had a bit of amusement while doing it. There were the normal jobs that one can imagine gets chosen in these situations: doctors, firemen, police officers. Some kids wanted to be farmers, even a basketball player. My coworker’s daughter wanted to be an artist. One of her friends wanted to be a “flower picker.” But good old Liam here, he wanted to be a Tan Cgotr. Which, thanks to the teacher, translates to Train Conductor.

From the looks of the drawing, this future Metro-North conductor will probably be on that last late-night train out of Grand Central. You know which one I mean, the one that runs local all the way down the Harlem Line, and has plenty of drunks. It looks like Liam here plans on drinking lots of caffeine to keep awake, so much that his eyes are practically popping out of his head. I’m not exactly sure if this is supposed to be a big window on an m7 or something, or the picture is supposed to be the actual train (are those wheels at the bottom?). But apparently Liam imagines serving all the California Raisins and Blueberry people that ride Metro-North.

Drunk or high “artist’s” alternate rendition of Liam’s drawing, starring Salad Fingers.

Anyways, I thank Liam for his wonderful drawing. I would be most happy to purchase Liam’s next child’s fare on Metro North. Perhaps I can introduce him to some cool tan cgotrs.

Two weeks ago I mentioned the wreck in the Park Avenue Tunnel in 1902, and how it led to electric service on the rails. Another thing the accident achieved was the replacement of the old Grand Central Depot. The old Depot at the time was serving a lot more trains than it could really handle. Trains often had to wait in order to enter the train shed. The one train involved in the wreck was waiting in the tunnel, when the train behind missed several signals and ended up crashing into it. The new Grand Central Terminal, with its two levels, was able to accommodate a lot more trains than its predecessor.

Construction on the Terminal was finished in 1913. And what does one want to do after spending $180,000,000 on a gorgeous new train station? Show it off to the world, of course! Recently I’ve had a lot of enjoyment looking at old newspapers. Although photography existed at the time, many newspapers still used engraved illustrations. And I really do love looking at these old illustrations of Grand Central.

All of those come from full advertisements shown in newspapers, like the one below:

One thing I thought amusing about the new Grand Central, was that when it opened, it had a private “Women’s Room.” And I don’t mean a bathroom. For twenty-five cents a woman could use a private dressing room, staffed by maids, to change her “costume” for a “social function.” They would even deliver her trunk straight to the dressing room! How grand! And let’s not forget that there were also hair and manicuring parlors, as well as a shoe polishing room. You know what I wonder though, was the line for that “Women’s room” out the door and around the corner like the lines today? Sometimes they really make you want to shoot yourself…

If you’re interested in seeing more old drawings and advertisements of Grand Central’s opening, click here to take a look through the Historical Archives.

When I got on the train this morning I was a bit tired. Conductor Miguel was collecting tickets and asked me if something was wrong. I told him I was just tired. Jokingly, he told me I shouldn’t have partied so hard last night, and that there of course are always consequences. I wasn’t partying last night, but I am certain that some people were. And I saw the aftermath of it on the platform (oh yes, there was vomit!), and in the waiting room…

It isn’t St. Pat’s anymore… get rid of your beads, your pizza box, and wake up!

Because I am in an amusing mood this morning, I figured I’d post some of my favorite photos of passed out people in the waiting room.

And as a special bonus… here is a picture of a train sleeper and some great ad placement.

If only there was some sort of drink that could possibly wake you up…

Have a great day everyone!

Yesterday was a pretty great day. On the platform in White Plains at around 5:45, the sun was shining. And all the riders that had formerly been hidden in waiting rooms and other dark places, came out to enjoy the sunlight. I was seriously amazed at how many people were out and about. Of course I had to take pictures.

I also passed out a bunch of cards. At times this was really hard for me. I’m not exactly sure what people think I am like based on what I say in this blog, but I can be incredibly shy at times. When you ride on the train you have a routine. I take the same train, and generally sit in the same seat. And you cross paths with other folks that also have routines. When I see these people often, it isn’t too hard to just go up to them and have a chat. But just going up completely cold, to a person I’ve never seen before, and handing them a card. Well it is a little hard. I was deathly afraid someone was going to totally reject me. I will admit I got a lot of funny looks. But there were also people that really enjoyed it. I even encountered the guy who runs the site TrainJotting and gave him a card. This is only the second time that I’ve been recognized by someone because of my blog. Too funny.

As for this morning, it was a little bit chilly, but it is supposed to be another good day. I haven’t seen any St. Patrick’s drunks yet, but I expect to see that tonight. I did, however, see the guy I refer to as Johnny. He was standing in front of the White Plains station and kept asking people walking in and out whether they wanted to see a baby hawk. He kept pointing. “It’s right there, look!” He pointed to the area over the door where the pigeons enjoy roosting. I only saw pigeons, no hawks. I figured he was joking, because after that he said, “There is a leprechaun up there too! And he was this tall,” as he motions to show that the aforementioned leprechaun was about a foot in height. I got Johnny to produce this amateur sketch:

If you happen to see the leprechaun, please let me know.