Over the years I have introduced you, my readers, to the various members of my family.  In total, there were eight children.  Martha and Ruth, born in 1920 and 1924, were probably stillbirths.  That was a subject that the children were never encouraged to ask about.  Also in 1924 there was the death of my brother, who was 11½ years old.  He died from pneumonia and appendicitis, both of which would pose no problems for physicians today.  Of the remaining members of the family, I suppose that in retrospect I have devoted less time to my eldest brother, Charles H., than to any of my other siblings.  On this occasion, I will try to even up the sibling count.
That would mean that my brother is a secondary issue.  The primary issue in this essay has to with music and particularly railroad music.
If my memory is correct, I spent the last half of the 1960s in Washington, D.C.  My brother Charles H. had a daughter who lived in Virginia with her husband and two small children.  On one occasion, Charles H. and his wife Rose, together with his daughter and son-in-law, visited with us in our home in Bethesda, Maryland.  I suspect that this is where Charles H. made up his mind to send some ancient phonograph records to me.  Those phonograph records, recorded around 1920, are the subject of today’s essay.
Before we get to the music, there is the matter of the title of this essay.  When I left for the army in 1942, my eldest brother was called Halley.  Apparently upon his birth, Halley’s Comet appeared in the sky and my grandmother recommended to my mother that this should be his name.  And it was done as my grandmother recommended.
So I left to pursue my soldierly duties in 1942 in the belief that my brother’s name was Halley.  Upon return from the Army in 1945, I found that Halley had morphed into Charlie.  And so it was that the surveying firm located in Clayton, Missouri was called the Charles H. Carr Surveyors.
Now as to the second part of the title to this essay, Charles Halley frequently referred to me as “Little August.”  I suspect that Charley used that title to refer to me because I was born in the month of August.  But in retrospect, Charlie himself was born in August and I suppose he referred to me as Little August which means that he must have been Big August.
Now I had very little cause to complain about Charley’s changing his  name from Halley because until I joined the American Army, my parents and siblings referred to me as Junior.  This of course was because I was named after my father.  When I returned from my Army duties, I took great delight in watching my siblings and their mates trying to call me Ed or Eddy.  They simply did not believe that Junior was the appropriate title for a soldier.  Today I carry on discussions and correspondence with one of my nephews who always addresses me as Uncle Junior.  When I send things to Robert J. Carr, I always sign them as coming from Uncle Junior.
As far as I know, my brother Charlie had no musical talent.  Perhaps I should say that he never showed it to me.  Probably he took after my father, who used to shout the words to the hymns rather than singing them.  Charlie, in addition to his expertise as a surveyor, was also a craftsman.  Sometime after Charlie’s visit, there arrived at our home in Bethesda a wooden box.  Charlie had constructed this wooden box to hold photos and several pieces of what I would call priceless Americana.
At this point, there should be one more intrusion.  Around 1900, my father worked as a fireman for the Illinois Central Railroad.  That railroad started in Chicago and ended in New Orleans.  This was in the days of steam engines.  The duty of the fireman was to shovel enough coal into the furnace to cause the steam engine train to run.  My father seldom talked about his railroad days.  I suspect that one of the reasons was that he viewed it as a failure in that he didn’t stick around long enough to become an engineer.
The fact is that in 1900, ordinarily it would take a person spending 15 years as a fireman before he was promoted to engineer.  Ezra Senior decided to look for greener pastures and he found them in preparations for the 1902 World’s Fair in St. Louis.  I know that the Fair didn’t open until 1904, but that was a small triviality.  So my father had quit railroading at an early age and, after he worked on the World’s Fair, he found work at the Lilac Roost Dairy Farm.  After a time, he became the superintendent of the Lilac Roost operation.
This apparently was a prestigious position which my father celebrated by buying phonograph records, which were new at the time, perhaps to celebrate his most recent success.  He also bought a machine to play the records on.  It was called a Victrola.  It was manually operated with a crank which caused the records to spin.  As I recall it, the records were played one at a time.  When one record was finished, it was necessary to replace that record with another record.  In the early days of recording, there was no such thing as long playing records.
And so, after this delay, we now reach the music which is the main burden for this essay ever to have been written.
 
There are a total of five recordings having to do with train wrecks and a doleful song called “In the Baggage Coach Ahead.”  In that recording, apparently the singer laments the fact that his wife has died and that her remains are being carried by the baggage coach ahead.
So this is doleful music but hang on.  Apparently it was what my father enjoyed as he recalled his railroad days.  I deeply regret that the final song, called “The City of New Orleans,” was recorded after his death.  That song is a much happier song than the six ancient recordings.
As we opened the box that Charlie had sent us from his home in University City, Missouri, it was obvious that he had taken all precautions to see to it that the records arrived in Bethesda, Maryland in the same condition that they had left his home in University City.  On a curious note, I have preserved that box that the records came in.  The records arrived about 45 years ago and I have no intention of losing the box that they arrived in.  Maybe that gives you an idea about Charlie’s Carr’s craftsmanship.
You will notice that each of the records selected by my father had to do with train wrecks.  When steam engines were used to pull trains, the fireman sat in the front cab of the engine across from the engineer and if there was a wreck, he would inevitably be a casualty.  I do not know whether this is what drove my father to buy train wreck records, but it is the only logical explanation that has ever come to mind.
Now, on the CD that accompanies this essay you will find these songs.  The first recording is of “The Wreck of the Number Nine.”  The second is “The Wreck of the Royal Palm.”  The third song is “The Wreck of the Southern Ninety-Seven.”  This is followed by “The Wreck of the Old #5,”  “Jim Blake” and “In the Baggage Car Ahead.”  Finally, there is Willie Nelson’s recording of “The City of New Orleans.”   I believe that I have listed the songs more or less in proper order.
Now before we get to listening to the music, the artist is Marion Try Slaughter, also known by his stage name of Vernon Dalhart.  According to his biography, he selected those names because they were the names of two neighboring towns in Texas.  Mr. Slaughter/Dalhart was born on April 6, 1883 and he lasted until September 15, 1948.
Apparently Mr. Dalhart played his own guitar and from time to time you will hear some intrusions by a harmonica.  I am convinced that Dalhart had the harmonica in front of his lips and played it when there was an interlude in his music.  On top of that, you will also notice that from time to time, Mr. Slaughter/Dalhart whistles.
As improbable as it seems, Mr. Dalhart also appeared in operas.  According to his biography, he appeared in “H.M.S. Pinafore” and the Puccini opera, “The Girl of the Golden West.”  I am a fan of opera and I believe that this is a performance that I would like to hear.  In substance, I do not believe that Mr. Dalhart was much of an opera singer.  But who is to say?
And so for the moment we will then go on to the final song called “The City of New Orleans.”  Naming trains after cities was a glorious quest, but I believe that it came along after my father left the railroading business.
But in this case the singer is Willie Nelson who is widely known, mainly for country music.  If I were asked, I would say that this song, “The City of New Orleans,” is the greatest railroad song that ever lived.  But no one has really asked me.  And so I leave you to enjoy the six old-time songs as well as “The City of New Orleans.”
Now a final thought about my brother, Charles Halley Carr.  I can’t really hold that I saw much of Charlie as I was growing up.  He was about 14 years older than I was and he married at an early age.  I might also tell you that he was a good guy and that he was bald-headed and that he liked to smoke cigars.  I part company with Charlie on smoking cigars.
Well, that is the story about the ancient phonograph records that Charlie Carr sent to me.  As I said, the box that they came in still remains in my possession.  Perhaps if a music lover, particularly of railroad music, turned up, I might let him admire the box.  In the final analysis, this is the first time that the recordings bought by my father around 1920 have ever appeared as a group.
My father was a religious man who believed in the after-life.  Perhaps he is up there among the clouds and he would appreciate hearing the melodies of “The Wreck of the Royal Palm” or of Jim Blake who thought, “Tell my wife that I will meet her in heaven; don’t wait for the fast express.”  I am sorry that I did not have the opportunity to play “The City of New Orleans” for my father or for Charlie.  It might have counteracted the dour recording climate produced by the train wreck records.  But in any case, I am pleased that these seven songs are together again and I hope that my father has been honored by this collection of music.  My brother Charles Halley has also been honored for delivering the records to me in that magnificent hand crafted box.
E. E. CARR
March 17, 2012
Essay 640
 
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Family night.
The Wreck of the Number Nine — https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qO0-dUxUFU  Whelp. Trainwreck music.
The Wreck of the Royal Palm. — couldn’t find it; maybe Judy will send it.
The Wreck of the Southern Ninety-Seven — looking for better quality. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W_vuooY3DH8
The Wreck of the Old #5 — can’t find
Jim Blake — https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sk4oU_0H1sg
In the Baggage Car Ahead — https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWDQ_9LKums  (Legitimately really sad)
The City of New Orleans — https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJMVj04lfyo As Pop says, much nicer.