Connecting the main city of Cusco and the town of Urubamba to the inaccessible-by-car Machu Picchu Pueblo (formerly known as Aguas Calientes) the rail line serves as the primary gateway for access to Machu Picchu citadel. Ever since Hiram Bingham’s rediscovery of this 15th-century “Lost City of the Incas” in 1911, tourists have flocked to the site, and today it is Peru’s most visited tourist attraction. Construction of the rail line began around 1914, but was slow to develop—with the most mountainous portion between Cusco and Pachar taking nine years to build, with another six to reach Machu Picchu. Today, most of the trains are targeted to tourists, however a handful of heavily-subsidized local trains for Peruvian citizens operate daily, providing an important link between some very remote mountainside villages and the outside world.

Alas, during my visit “operational issues” have truncated all rail operations (with the exception of the five-times-per-week luxury Hiram Bingham train from Poroy) in favor of a bi-modal service: buses from Cusco to the road-accessible Ollantaytambo, then trains to the jungles beyond and Machu Picchu Pueblo. During normal times, service extends from the historic San Pedro station in Cusco (elevation 3410m) and slowly traverses an array of switchbacks and horseshoe curves to ascend nearly 280 meters before a slight descent into the Poroy station on the outskirts of the city (elevation 2487m). From there the line continues to descend into the Sacred Valley of the Incas.

The Urubamba branch, which extends from the Tambo del Inka hotel in Urubamba (elevation 2851m, and yes, of course I stayed at the hotel that had its very own train station!), joins up with the line at Pachar (elevation 2813m), a stone’s throw from the main midpoint station of Ollantaytambo (elevation 2804m). Then mirroring the path of the Urubamba River, the line traverses a series of tunnels before reaching Machu Picchu Pueblo (elevation 2080m). Most service terminates here, although a few trains daily carry passengers further to the end of the line at Hidroeléctrica (elevation 1794m, historically the line continued northward to Quillabamba, but was abandoned due to landslides).

Contrary to what one would assume, Cusco—surrounded by an array of peaks, including the snow-capped Vilcabamba range—is situated at a higher elevation than Machu Picchu. Thus the railroad’s only notable elevation changes occur early on in the trip, with an average 4.9% grade to the first switchback and ultimately topping out around 3686 meters, as the train snakes its way out of Cusco and into Poroy. Both this ascent and skirting the middle ground between higher mountains has dictated the route, resulting in a rather frenetic-looking line on a map. Eventually, this wild line evens out, and the remainder of the route is relatively straightforward as it hugs the banks of the Urubamba River.

“Do people intentionally leave their animals near the tracks so they get hit?”  

Through a combination of observations and chatting with Daniel using my limited Spanish, his limited English, and Google translate, a picture begins to emerge of this narrow-gauge train operation through the Andes. 

Daniel chuckles when I ask about the animals. I tell him that this would surely be some sort of scam that someone would run at home, before getting lawyers involved in the hopes of a payout. But he assures me that the people are just looking to graze their animals, and due to Peruvian laws if an animal were to be hit, they wouldn’t be getting anything from the railroad. Nonetheless, the sight of so many animals tied down close to the tracks is jarring for me—notably the cow whose tether appeared to be fastened directly to one of the running rails.

Daniel describes in rough terms how the railroad operates, drawing a single track line and a few passing sidings across the back of one of his papers. I haven’t seen a single signal along the route, nor have I seen any lights, bells, gates, or other warning devices at any of the grade crossings we’ve passed. For that, they have a real live human guard to herd people away, at least in Machu Picchu Pueblo. But for the former, trains are instead given authorization via radio and recorded by form to access the territory. 

To be a railroader is to expect the unexpected, but here one must really take the adage to heart. Whether it be the tough environment—there’s an “in case of minor landslides” shovel next to the cab—or the near-constant darting of people and pets across the tracks in front of our moving train—one must always be on their toes.

One crazy dog zigs and zags in front of us, eventually disappearing into my blind spot. Just when I was certain he was a goner, he reappears to the right of the tracks, running off to safety. Alas, I later spot a doghouse topped with a cross right next to the tracks near Pachar, and I can only imagine that it marks the spot where someone’s beloved friend was not so lucky.

Stationary objects also become hazards, as people leave all sorts of things close to the tracks. Even though the maximum speed of the line is only 45-kilometers-per-hour, dusk shrouds an errant motorcycle and we’re unable to fully stop in time before sideswiping it at low speed. Someone’s going to have some explaining to do…

Meanwhile, Daniel is constantly getting on and off the equipment to hand throw the switches along the route. As we near our final destination of Urubamba, he gets off yet again—this time to yell at a driver whose car is fouling the tracks. I watch the unfolding drama onboard, along with a gaggle of onlookers that have gathered around the tracks. Apparently the car cannot be moved because the keys have been locked inside. We all watch as the driver and his friends attempt to snag the inner door handle with a lasso of rope through the partially-open window. Even Daniel steps in to help, and before long the car is gone and we’re free to continue on our merry way. Our conductor has saved the day, and we all got a little taste of the unexpected along these rails.

Today’s Botanical Garden station has the honor of having the most name changes of any station along the Harlem. Although there are a few stations that have had two different names, Botanical Garden has had four within its 150 or so years of existence. Initially starting off with the name of Jerome Park, the station served the race course of the same name, which opened September 25, 1866. The course was a popular venue, hosting the first Belmont Stakes in 1867, and the first outdoor polo match in the United States in 1876. Upon opening the closest station for rail access was Fordham, but the Jerome Park station was established shortly thereafter, providing at least a walkable trip to the course.

Nonetheless, the walk from Jerome Park was still uphill and about a mile in length, so the establishment of alternate methods of access were considered for several years. An initial attempt to build a railway connecting the Harlem to the racetrack failed in 1876 due to litigation regarding the chosen route. A second attempt was made in 1880, this time successful, and the 1.67 mile road was constructed in a total of 34 days, opening on May 29th. President Leonard Jerome took fifty well-to-do invitees on a special opening excursion on the road that morning, departing Grand Central at 11 AM, and arriving in time for a fancy lunch at the course’s clubhouse.

The new partially elevated tracks ran to a small depot that had not yet been completed behind the track’s grandstand, with a wooden bridge connecting the two structures. For the opening of the line, a simple platform greeted the esteemed guests. After a lunch filled with toasts to good health and the celebration of the new line, the guests returned to their train for a 2 PM departure. All-in-all, it seemed to be a rather chaste celebration in comparison to the boozy excursion that marked the opening of the line to White Plains.

Map of the route of the Jerome Park Railway, highlighted in purple, extending from the Harlem just beyond the current Botanical Garden station.

Race day through trains were operated from Grand Central Depot with a fare of 60 cents round trip (20 cents more than a round trip to Jerome Park on the Harlem proper). Decoration Day (referred to as Memorial Day today) was an extremely popular day for the races, and over ten thousand people crammed Grand Central Depot to board trains, with two-thirds of them going either to Jerome Park, or to pay their respects at the Woodlawn Cemetery. The crowd at the depot was so large that extra police were summoned, at one point barring further patrons from entering. The two main ticket offices had lines that were so long, a third impromptu office was set up to sell tickets, but even that was not enough to accommodate the throng. Over 4,500 tickets were sold for the 1:45, 2:10, and 2:30 through trains to the raceway, and many other tickets were sold to Fordham for those who could not get onboard one of the specials.

This first day of opening to the public essentially set the tone for the just over one decade of existence of this branch. It was extremely popular, yet generally reviled due to the massive crowds and the inability of the infrastructure to accommodate them. 4,500 tickets were sold on those first specials, yet across the three trains there were only 2,160 seats. A less-than-happy rider recalled that on one trip “[people were] packed into the cars until they were so uncomfortably crowded that ladies and even strong, robust men almost had the life crushed out of them.” People would get extremely irate, write angry letters to both the editor and to the Commodore, yet would forget about these troubles in the off-season and be back to ride the trains again in the spring. All this despite lines extending from ticket booths all the way out the depot, onto the sidewalk, and around the corner, massive throngs of people, and late trains that sometimes even missed part of the races. As one letter writer concluded, “Commodore Vanderbilt does not care in the least what anybody says about his management while he is comfortable in the certainty that they can do nothing.”

Although some of the blame realistically could be placed on the Harlem for their operation of the trains, especially in regard to on time performance, there was much outside their control. Initial plans for the Jerome Park Railway called for a double tracked line, though it was never constructed this way. A second track only existed at the end of the line near the depot for the racetrack. Without additional tracks to run on, it was largely impossible for the Harlem to increase the amount of service and end the overcrowding problem that plagued the line from its inception. Complaints were plentiful enough that an announcement was made in 1887 that work would soon begin to double track the line and create more sidings near the track to allow for additional service, but these plans never came to fruition. As time ticked on, it became increasingly obvious that the Jerome Park Racetrack would not be around much longer.

The beginning of the end for the Jerome Park Railway was the closure of the raceway as the new site for a new reservoir for the city. The site had been identified as the best place for the reservoir around 1886, yet was subject to negotiations for the acquisition of the property. The race track finally closed after the 1894 season, and became property of the city on January 1, 1895. The railway branch was eventually leased to John B. McDonald, a contractor that had worked on the building of the IRT subway, and was hired to work on the excavation of the area around the reservoir. McDonald used the line, along with an extra four miles of temporary trackage that he constructed extending over the Harlem’s tracks out the area near Parkchester, to fill in the marshlands for development.

Back of an old photo

Back of an old photo

Back of an old photo

Images from the excavation for the Jerome Park Reservoir, utilizing the tracks of the Jerome Park Railway.

Highlighted in red, part of the temporary line that John B. McDonald constructed for the dumping of excavated material. This line extended four miles through Bronx Park and following along the Pelham Parkway to the marshlands.

Lying disused for several years, Bronx Borough President Louis Haffen ordered the remainder of the branch’s tracks to be torn up across Webster Avenue on May 6th, 1906, and expected the section between Willow Avenue and Bronx Park to be removed the day afterward. Haffen had accused some “mystery opposition” of stopping previous plans to remove the tracks, and fully expected the Harlem to object to the removal… yet no further objection ever came. Just 26 years after its construction, the Jerome Park Railway was officially dead.

As for the station along the Harlem proper, around 1887 Jerome Park was renamed Bedford Park after the neighborhood it was located, likely due to confusion with the branch itself. Just a few years later it was again renamed to Bronx Park, reflecting the recently opened park alongside it, where the Botanical Garden was established. Timetables often included a notation that Bronx Park was the location of the Botanical Garden, and eventually it just became easier to outright rename the station yet again to its current iteration—Botanical Garden.

Objectively, the 1966 Giants were quite awful. Playing their home games at the old Yankee Stadium, they proceeded to lose every single match except for one. They managed to tie their first game on the road, but subsequently lost the remainder. Not only did they have the worst record in the entire league that year, the 1966 season was the worst in franchise history, with the fewest total wins, and the worst point differential (-238)^[2]. In fact, the season ranks as one of the all time top 25 worst seasons for all teams in the entire NFL^[3].

If for some reason you had wanted to watch that hot mess of a team back in ’66, the New York Central did offer special Harlem Division trains for each of the home games. Leaving from North White Plains, the train made local stops to Mount Vernon before proceeding to Melrose, several blocks away from Yankee Stadium. Round trip fare was $2 from North White Plains through Scarsdale, and $1.50 from Crestwood through Mount Vernon—a $1 discount from the normal coach fare at the time.

Interestingly enough, to facilitate faster egress the train made a reverse move to dispense passengers on the northbound platform, which had exits on both 162nd and 161st Streets, as opposed to the southbound platform which only exited near 162nd (this platform does not exist today—the current platform is located north of 162nd Street, with the end situated where the tracks for the Port Morris Branch used to split off from the Harlem. The location of the old Melrose platform is now covered by the Morrisania Air Rights housing project).

Anyone who rode the special train received a commemorative brochure which explained how to get to the stadium from the station, as well as included a list of players on both sides and current league rankings. We’ve posted some of these before, but I recently purchased a few new ones, and figured I’d share.

https://hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/ppmsca.70815

https://hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/ppmsca.70820

https://hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/ppmsca.70826

On the way home, the second and fifth cars of the consist were bar cars, and likely the place where many fans drank away their sorrows after the Giants considerable losses.

These special trains were short lived, and although it might be funny to blame their cancellation on the Giant’s abysmal record, it probably had something more to do with the Central’s lackluster financial situation, leading to their merger with the Pennsylvania Railroad two years later.

This past weekend I found myself dodging the raindrops and capturing the blocks of the Waterbury Branch. With the signalization project coming to a close not too far in the future, these block limit signs will likely be disappearing before you know it. The signals aren’t online yet, but many have been installed and are visible along the right-of-way covered in black plastic. So, without further ado, here are the blocks of the Waterbury branch.

CLIP

Upon entering the Waterbury Branch from the New Haven Line, the first block you’ll encounter is CLIP. The name is a throwback to when Connecticut Light and Power owned the nearby power plant in Devon. The generating station began operations in 1924 with three 25MW units. NRG bought the natural gas powered plant in 1999, and these days it produces 133MW. NRG intends to sell the plant, and it will likely change hands by the end of the year.

As part of other upgrades along the branch, you’ll also see the installation of new grade crossing protection that has not yet been completed. The lights are likewise covered by black plastic, and the crossing gates are not in yet.

HAT

Not far from the Derby/Shelton Station, HAT gets its name from the Housatonic Railroad, which joins the branch at the location.

Sadly, the 1903 station at Derby has been thoroughly tagged. Owned by the city, the vandalism has been reported and the building is slated for cleanup soon.

It seems the HAT block limit sign may have also been tagged to reveal an alternate word… oh dear.

BEAK

If I told you that BEAK was named for a famous local bird, it would sure be an interesting story, but it would also be a lie. BEAK is simply a shortened version of Beacon Falls, where you’ll find the block limit sign at the south end of the platform.

EAGLE and WATER

Speaking of birds, the next block encountered along the branch is EAGLE. Once located closer to Eagle Street, you’ll now find it at the south end of the parking lot for Waterbury station.

Lastly, WATER is obviously named for Waterbury. You’ll find the block limit sign just at the north end of the platform. Although the tracks continue further, Metro-North trains are not permitted to cross the sketchy bridge that carries the rails over Freight Street. Waterbury is quite the intriguing location, with a slew of abandoned tracks, reclaimed by nature over the years. The 1909 McKim, Mead, and White station, owned by the local Republican American newspaper, is always a fantastic sight, and the associated 240-foot clock tower is the city’s most notable landmark.

The new station to which the train had arrived was a simple wooden affair, which the guests likened to a “barn-like shanty.” It simply blended in with the rest of the small farming town of just over a thousand inhabitants. At the time White Plains was merely a “sweet inland village” just over the “pleasant hills and through the valley of the Bronx.” It was remembered as a battlefield of the Revolution, and where George Washington kept his headquarters for a time. But now, linked with rails of iron (and they were iron—not the metal-strapped wood rails the Harlem had spent much money to experiment with and later replace) to the city of New York, surely this sleepy town was bound to grow exponentially!

Adding to the crowd already surrounding the station, the three hundred or so railroad brass and their invited guests ambled out and onto dinner just a short ways away. Their trip began at New York’s City Hall, stuffed until they were practically overflowing into cars hauled by horses of the flesh and blood variety. Transferring over to a steamer at 27th Street they began their journey of “romantic and historical tradition and reminiscence” which is just a fancy way of saying that when the president of the railroad is on board and wants to stop to fill up on alcohol, by God you stop the train at Harlem and Fordham to get more, of course!

Thankfully railroad president David Banks was not too inebriated to provide a rousing speech highlighting the Harlem’s past obstacles and opposition overcome, and provide optimism for the future of the railroad—North to the Housatonic? West to Albany? Something great surely would be happening forthwith as it was the manifest destiny of the capitalists and businessmen of New York to build a railroad to Lake Erie and then the west!

And one cannot forget the toasts!

To the Judiciary of New York—their learning and judgement—as well as the ladies, of whom we see many here—how can the Harlem Railroad fail to prosper, supported by law, love, and physic?

To the farmers of Westchester County, may they reap the benefit of riding on a rail!

Those were, of course, two of many mentioned that night. As far as reaping benefits, it was not only the farmers of Westchester that would be advantaged, but likewise many of the men that celebrated that evening… and the residents of a tiny village that would eventually grow to become the city we know today.

Although there was a good road—thank the sticks and stones, and iron, and other hard materials, including the hard-fisted laborers who worked on it; although there was good weather—thank God—it requires the whole of these commendable considerations together to reconcile one to a dreary, monotonous kill time journey of 3 hour’s duration on 23 miles of a railroad.

—An unfortunately sober reporter for the New York Herald

These [the Harlem Railroad and New York ferries] being cheap and public modes of conveyance, are crowded with masses of people escaping from the city, and pouring themselves out upon the places in its immediate vicinity. The influence arising from this evil is most deleterious. It allures the population from the sanctuary to scenes of mirth and sin. It inflicts on the inhabitants of these adjacent localities, the curse of a vicious and reckless influx of strangers. Intemperance, licentiousness, profaneness, and every form of irreligion, are thus fostered, both in the city itself and in the places of resort around it.

—New York Evangelist rails against the sinful methods of public transportation which operated every day of the week, ignoring the Sabbath, in 1842.

The true measure of distance, especially from a historical perspective, cannot be accurately gauged in miles, but instead in the duration of time it takes one to get there. With the advent of railways, people and goods were able to travel much further than they ever were before, in far less time. But any technological advance of such magnitude inevitably draws out the naysayers, fearmongers, and conspiracy theorists…

The railroad is unnatural! It is sinful! Men were never intended to move at such great speed. Women! Their ovaries will fall from their wombs, rendering them sterile. The jarring motion of the locomotive will make your blood boil, and cause permanent injury to your brain! Madness will certainly be induced by the speed of the dastardly beast! People will surely suffocate! And the cows! Think of the farm animals that will cease to graze, disturbed by this unholy contraption! Hens will quit laying eggs, birds will plummet from the sky in the throes of death.

All of these, and many other, nonsensical beliefs were attributed to the coming of railroads; when preparing their road’s extension, the directors of the Harlem almost expected to hear some of these senseless ideas from the commoners of Westchester.

While no protest would stop the expansion of the Harlem, the cooperation of a succession of land owners along the proposed route of the road was needed. Thus the “diplomatic” and “amiable” Gouverneur Morris Jr. was sent out to negotiate, or “overcome the minds of many of the land owners’ existing prejudices against railroads.” In some cases, little fighting was necessary, as residents intuited the value of having a railroad nearby. Two members of the Purdy family fell into this camp— Jacob, who transferred the land for White Plains, and Isaac, whose land later became the aptly named Purdy’s station. In both cases the land transfers were for nominal fees of a single dollar.

Once the land was acquired, construction steadily moved forward. Many of the laborers constructing the road were Irish immigrants, paid up to 75 cents a day and their board—dirt floor hemlock shanties along the future right-of-way. By June of 1844 service to Tuckahoe was open to the public, and the next six miles into White Plains soon thereafter. The openings were well attended curiosities, and for some it was the first time in their life they had ever glimpsed the magnificent iron horse.

For two full years White Plains served as the terminus of the Harlem Railroad. As such, the road required all the necessary infrastructure to operate, including a roundhouse and turntable. Two small railyards existed on either side of Railroad Avenue (today’s Main Street), with the one on the north end having the turntable, roughly located where the current White Plains station is today. On the south end there were several tracks that directly served some of the new industries that had popped up adjacent to the railroad, including animal feeds, coal, lumber, and other building materials.

Although industries may have found the rails useful, the population of White Plains did not immediately explode after the coming of the Harlem. The added connectivity was certainly valuable, it was just not frequent—service began with only four round trip passenger trains per day, with the trip taking well over an hour (even without the pit stops for acquiring more alcohol). Over time the frequency of trains steadily increased, and the ride time shortened, thanks to new technology (including electrification) and newly scheduled express trains. And instead of a single flat fare for every trip, new types of tickets were introduced, including booklets intended for commuters with 150 ride coupons, valid for three months from the date of purchase.

Just before the turn of the century the Harlem’s single train schedule was split out into two—Form 112, which included the more distant locations along the Harlem, and the Form 113, which were the commutation trains from Grand Central. The timetables also were broken down into weekday and weekend schedules, with additional southbound frequency in the mornings, and northbound in the evenings, new offerings tailored to the commuter. Finally, White Plains had become a realistic suburb, where both living in “the country” and working in the city was feasible, or as New York Times noted in 1927, “White Plains is but thirty-six minutes from Grand Central Station [sic] and actually nearer in point of time than many subway terminals in New York City.”

The present [railroad] service is the result of a steady and satisfactory growth from year to year, until, at the present time, about as many trains are run during the rush hours of the day as the present track accommodations will take care of… for years the service given has actually exceeded the bare necessities of the business to be taken care of, and that instead of being a little behind the times with its service, the railroad company has led the procession…

In addition to all its other charms as a suburban home center, the village of White Plains has that most indispensable feature of suburban life, a first-class train service; and in this respect it is excelled by no other village in the outlying districts of the center of the universe commonly called New York… If the recent growth of both the village and the train service is any indication, White Plains has a very gratifying future indeed.

—John Rosch’s Picturesque White Plains, 1906.

Looking back over the past hundred-plus years of White Plains’ history, did the city live up to the hopes of Rosch and other citizens of yesteryear? Beyond the railroad, what other factors influenced the growth of this city? How did the railroad, complete with two railyards, come to the state it is now? What transit-oriented development can today’s citizens hope to see in the next decade? All of these questions will be considered in the upcoming continuation of our series on the history of White Plains… coming soon!

The fabled Tim Hortons, which had been promised for over a year but had never materialized by the time I had stopped commuting, now takes up the space upstairs where the MTAPD had an office, and where a row of black wire benches once were. I spent many hours waiting for trains, observing the wide array of people passing through, and writing this blog while sitting on those benches.

Sure, there were certainly aesthetic improvements. The new look being rolled out at Metro-North stations with the wood ceilings and the modern vibe is definitely better than what was previously there. There’s even some new, attractive art installed through the MTA Arts and Design program. It’s just not the place where everyone the convenience store operator knows your name anymore…

While in this reflective mood, come September it will also be a year since I last worked in the railroad industry. Covid was just another opportunity for my previous employer to do yet another “management” (anyone without a contract) reorganization. If anyone was ever curious why that place doesn’t seem to get a lot done, it’s because the company is almost constantly going through reorganizations—pretty much at least one company-wide every year, and that doesn’t include the additional departmental reorgs when yet another new face is hired near the top of the food chain. I saw some of the most intelligent people I’ve met, who truly believed in the mission of passenger rail, essentially driven out. The department I was in was an endless revolving door—I found a picture of the team that I took close to when I started, of the 25 people pictured only one remains employed there. Besides reorgs being largely ineffective (a Forbes survey found in companies that performed reorgs, more than half of the executives involved did not view the results favorably), constant reorgs make it nearly impossible for any practical long term planning—or basically why the dining cars that Boardman ordered became Anderson’s minimum axle-count cars several years later when they were finally rolling off the assembly line. Twenty-five dining cars at something like $2.3 million each sounds like a lot of wasted taxpayer dollars.

I keep in contact with a few people that remain, and was informed that there is yet another reorg looming. From LinkedIn statuses I see what appears to be a mass exodus of competent (and some incompetent, hah!) employees. And you know what I realized? I don’t miss it. By the end it seemed like an abusive relationship that I never would have left of my own volition. Thankfully, someone else made the decision for me, and I pursued employment at an engineering firm, as I had always found working with engineers to be what I enjoyed most there. The new job is mostly the same, except for the lack of trains.

When all is said and done, perhaps it was never about the trains after all. I just enjoyed learning about new projects, meeting new people, traveling, and capturing it all with my camera. Something that I’ll continue to do in both my personal and professional lives…

But I digress… my return to White Plains was more for research on new collection of stories, as opposed to pure nostalgia. A few upcoming articles I’ve been working on will highlight some of the changes that White Plains has experienced in the past 177 years since the railroad arrived, and two of the major factors that shaped this history—the railroad itself, and the “urban renewal” of the 70s and beyond. Expect those articles, coming soon!

Then again, the more things change, the more they stay the same…

Closer to home but in a similar vein, Metro-North’s rail train has recently been spotted cruising the system. Delivered via CSX about two weeks ago, the train is loaded with long strings of CWR, which it is unloading and dropping off at points along the right-of-way to be installed at a future date. Metro-North is utilizing the services of A&K Railroad Materials, Inc., whose equipment is capable of carrying 1,600 foot strings of CWR. The equipment is marked as belonging to V&S Railway, a shortline in Kansas, which A&K is affiliated with.

Sighted last weekend at Riverdale, it was captivating to watch the machine slowly pull out one of the stored pieces of rail which untethered to any ties seemed to bend like a long strand of spaghetti. The stored rails were pulled forward and then maneuvered by the machine to the side, then lowered. After the front of the rail was placed in position on the ground, the train slowly reversed to unload the entire length of the rail. Two workers ensured the deposited rail was properly positioned in between the tracks and then they too departed, returning the picturesque locale to its former quietude—at least until the next local arrived at the station some minutes later.

The rail train will be continuing its journeys after Memorial Day, and is expected to be operating on the Harlem Line shortly.

The Power Control Center oversees the operation of over 218 substations dispersed throughout the city. Information from these locations is relayed to the panels, giving operators the ability to see what’s going on and to control the subway’s power from a centralized location. For unexpected changes or ongoing situations, such as police presence, an array of magnets can be placed upon the board to keep everyone apprised (if there was a special cat-faced magnet for de-energizing the tracks for a feline rescue, I did not see it). Hidden within the collection of tracks and magnets are other tidbits, including the message, “in the I.R.T. failure is not an option”—assumedly a more down-to-Earth play on the fictional words uttered by the heroic operators employed in another green hued control room.

If you get a retro nuclear control room vibe from the seafoam green panels, that’s not surprising. Many control rooms—from the bridge of the Queen Mary 2 to the nerve centers of nuclear power plants around the globe—use a similar color scheme. Earlier subway control panels used white lines atop a black background, similar to the model boards found in old towers, but were upgraded to these green colored panels in the early ’80s. Design tastes and prevailing science often shift, and at the time such installations were considered optimal for readability, preventing eye fatigue and reducing glare. For nuclear applications dark colored backgrounds on Human-System Interfaces remain inadvisable (though a light gray seems to be the popular choice over dated seafoam today), but many railroads still use negative polarity color schemes in their control centers, and such “dark mode” schemes are popular with consumers. Ultimately, the best solution for readability depends heavily on ambient light, which is probably why Amtrak’s CETC dispatchers have long used black background interfaces in dark rooms.

In the collection of photos I snapped while at the Power Control Center you’ll note that Loby makes a reappearance, in red and looking very serious, along with a much happier photo of Eric, who works in the PCC. Sometimes it is pretty easy to tell when someone really enjoys their work, and Eric says that he is very proud of the job done by all at the Power Control Center. With over 665 miles of mainline track and 472 stations, the employees of the PCC certainly bear a large responsibility to keep the lights shining and the trains running on a subway system that uses more power than the state of Vermont.

In New York we have also seen an individual lending his personal touch to some of the state’s most recent rail projects. Governor Andrew Cuomo, in these times of partisan politics and divisions over the Coronavirus, has highlighted the Latin phrase E Pluribus Unum – or “Out of Many, One.” It is one of the original mottos of the United States, appears on our country’s Great Seal, can be found printed on our money, and now can also be found in our train stations, if you know where to look.

Governor Cuomo comments about the phrase at the 2020 National Governors Association winter meeting in Washington, D.C. earlier in February:

“We’re in this hyperpartisan, hyperpolitical time, and I think sometimes, people lose the humanity of what we do in public service. We focus on labels and titles and positions, and we forget that we’re all people trying to do good things.”

“‘E pluribus unum’ really does say it all. It’s one of the great expressions, it’s on the country’s seal from the very beginning. I just proposed adding it to the seal of the State of New York this year… because it really does sum up our overall philosophy.”

Although Cuomo’s direction to add the phrase to the state’s seal and flag has come more recently, his direction to add it to infrastructure projects has been in force for several years. Along with New York’s traditional motto of Excelsior, you can find E Pluribus Unum on the Second Avenue Subway and Rochester’s Amtrak station, both opened in 2017, as well as Buffalo’s new Exchange Street Station, opened this year.

Video stills show E Pluribus Unum at Rochester and Buffalo.

Collection of photos of the E Pluribus Unum message at the three new Second Avenue Subway stations. The phrase appears twice at each station.

Governor Andrew Cuomo on the opening of the Second Avenue Subway in 2017:

“‘E Pluribus Unum’ is displayed in the new Second Avenue Subway. The concept here was originally that we formed a country and we opened the doors. This year has been divisive. But we in New York reject the instinct to blame, divide and separate. Because the only thing that can destroy this country is in trying to divide it. Our strength is in unity.”

And, of course, there is another brand new station just days from opening that also includes the phrase…

Moynihan Train Hall and its impressive glass ceiling will be a feast for the eyes!

“In this term of turmoil, let New York state remind the nation of who we are. Let’s add ‘E Pluribus Unum’ to the seal of our state [and our train stations] and proclaim at this time the simple truth that without unity, we are nothing.”

So, what do you think about E Pluribus Unum appearing in train stations? How about the new New York state flag design? Drop your comments, and any photos you may have of the phrase in your local station, in the comments section!