First of all, let me say that the 765s tires have been removed from her drivers. Yes, even steam locomotives have tires. However, they are thick steel bands! I missed this great event. I assumed (you know what they say about assuming!) that this process would take place far from 765s home. Oops, I was wrong! Visit the Fort Wayne Railroad Historical Societys website for photos. Thank goodness they are keeping and sharing an up-to-date record of this massive rebuild.

For April, the FEATURE on this page will explain my fascination with the 765 and the Nickel Plate Road. Having been born fifteen years after the 765 was retired, I am often asked how or why I have an interest in steam locomotives. Hopefully, this little story will help explain my interest in such a relic.

I really think that a static display does little to foster a real love of steam power. It really is only when one experiences a locomotive under steam that the real mystique shows up. Although very cliche, the locomotives do appear to be alive and breathing. And there certainly is a romance with steam that is just not there with modern power.

Also, this month of April, my oldest son turns ten years old. The last time I saw the 765, along with NKP 587 in South Whitley, Indiana, he was just one year old. He and his younger brother have yet to experience Super Power Steam. But thanks to the folks of FWRHS, I know that very soon they both will. And I hope that they will both grow a love for 765 and all that it represents just as I have.

We who love trains are often viewed as odd, or something similar, by others when we try to express our passion. Few others would choose to sit trackside to catch a fleeting glimpse of an outdated piece of transportation equipment. But fewer people actually have careers that foster a hobby. I've yet to have a job that others outside the industry care a wit about, nevermind, flock to watch me perform. But who can really understand passion?

To do what you can to foster this passion, please contact the Fort Wayne Railroad Historical Society and help however you can. Thanks for the memories, FWRHS. Past, present, and future.

Past Issues
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Christmas Editorial
November

That's me on the left. I was probably about five or six years old at the time.

Grandpa and I left the steam tractors and he drove that old, black Ford down Edgerton Road, east of New Haven, Indiana, until we reached the corner at Ryan Road. Just then, Grandpa told me to look out my window. My eyes must have grown tremendously wide. To see my expression from his point of view must have been very gratifying to him. To my right, out my window, was the largest machine I had ever seen. It was the prototype of my toys. The first steam locomotive my eyes had ever seen and, boy, was it wonderful.

That's me on a steam tractor just before being introduced to a life long friend.

We pulled the truck over and walked over to the many men clambering all over this behemoth. Grandpa talked to a few of the men but I didn't hear a word. I tried to take in every inch of the over one hundred feet of the cold steel locomotive before me. I climbed around the cab trying to get a look at how such a beast could be operated. I coward at the shear size of the sixty-nine inch driving wheels drawn together by massive steel connecting rods. I gazed toward the sky trying to see the top of this more than fifteen feet high movable structure. Never had such an enormous object been imagined in my young mind.

Then, as if to draw me back to earth, my grandfather called me to the front end of the locomotive to introduce me to the stranger he was talking to. His efforts were short lived as I caught sight of a giant opening in the front of the engine. The smoke box door was swung wide open and was a temptation I couldn't resist. I made my way up the steps of the pilot and eventually reached the opening being sure not to look down. As I stood up I stretched my arms wide only to realize it would take many more of me to reach the sides. Rolling my head from the top to the side and eventually to the bottom of the massive opening I noticed several people watching me, my grandpa included. It must have been a great pleasure to see the wonder on my face to those watching.

The thoughts of that majestic machine must have overwhelmed me because I don't remember much of the ride home that day. I don't know if Grandpa told me that day, but I eventually learned that he worked on the railroad and that he had in fact worked on that very engine. I also learned that the locomotive was numbered 765 and that was what I called it from then on. Well, 765 or Grandpa's Train. The 765 was employed by the Nickel Plate Road as was my grandfather. And that was now my favorite railroad, even though I only knew one other.

Over the next couple of years, I often thought of that fateful day and I relayed the memories to many family members. But the memories and a book on Grandpa's shelf were all I had. That was all I had until sometime in the early 1980s when Grandpa made sure that my cousin Brad and I were on hand at the house one day. Grandpa had a farm that was parallel to the railroad tracks and he told us that the 765 was going to come by. As the time approached, we made our way to the crossing to wait for what was sure to be impressive. The monster I fell in love with was about to appear and run past me in all her glory and Brad had his camera to capture it all.

Photographs belong to Bradley L. Farber. Do not reproduce without the express permission of B. L. Farber.

Just then, it happened. There was a pale wail in the distance and a glowing light on the horizon framed by the wall of trees on either side of the tracks. Slowly the wail turned to a scream. The sky began to darken all around the ever growing light as it came closer still. We moved into what seemed a precariously close position to the tracks. While I didn't want to miss a thing, I found myself drawn closer and closer to my grandfather as the '65 approached. Within seconds I could no longer hear myself talking as the Nathan five-chime whistle blasted my ears. There was a furious rumble and the beast that seemed so alive was on me. My eyes darted all around taking in everything as the front passed me by shaking the very ground that I was standing on. The giant reciprocating rods and wheels that I had previously only known to stand still were even more impressive as they clanked rapidly by followed by the cab and tender and then the many passenger cars. The people were hanging out every opening as the deafening sounds diminished and the black cloud of soot and smoke drifted over us turning the bright sky dark. I couldn't help but wonder who all those lucky people were and how they became so fortunate as to ride behind that wonderful machine. And then it was gone.

Throughout the 1980s, I saw the 765 many more times either on her way to Chicago or returning. Every time was special. After I began to drive, my interests, as most young boys do, began to change. Fortunately, on a typical Sunday visit to the grandparents house, we were treated to a special unannounced (to us) visit by the 765. We heard a very faint wail. All of us stopped dead in our tracks. Grandpa stood up from his seat on the front porch and we all moved to the end of the house for a clearer view. And there she came. It was refreshing to see her again even though we knew it would only be briefly. But something happened differently this time. Just as she approached Indiana State Road 14, the 765 went into emergency!

Grandpa knew it immediately! We piled into my car and drove over to the crossing. We parked in an empty parking lot of a pig farm and walked up to the tracks. Now, the crew had no idea who we were and were used to keeping the public back a safe distance. As the conductor approached us to warn us to keep our distance, he could never have known about my grandfathers determination. Grandpa strode past him as if he wasn't even there and continued up to the head end. There was a look on Grandpas face of genuine concern. Perhaps it was really just an old sense of duty.

At the head end, we were greeted by the crew. They quickly began thier intercept, but they were quickly put at ease. Grandad immediately spouted out the diagnosis he had made even when we were back at the house. I can't tell you how awestruck I was when the crew validated his prognosis. I can't recall the exact terminology but it was something similar to the 765 "blowing her packing" or "wadding." Whatever it was, she had lost pressure completely. We stayed there until the pressure climbed and grandad had traded some stories. Then she left and so did we.

I saw her again over the next few years. The last being a Nickel Plate double header with 765 and 587 in 1993. I haven't seen her steam since. Following my last sighting of 765 under steam, Grandma and Grandpa casually remarked that she was housed in New Haven, Indiana. Now, this was a revelation! I hadn't been back out there since I was little. A few friends and I made our way out there and saw the 765 hiding in a large building. But we never went in. At that time, I knew nothing about the Fort Wayne Railroad Historical Society. Never-the-less, I was very pleased to have gotten a glimpse of her. This is the time that I also began to search out information about the Nickel Plate Road.

Grandpa died in 1995. He never really talked much about the railroad. Not much more than how he disliked, "those damned diesels." There were a few stories, but not very many. I wish I'd have asked.

Following Grandpas death, I learned about the Nickel Plate Road Historical & Technical Society. To my surprise, Grandma told me that she had already known of the organization. She then dug out a couple of old NKPHTS calendars! It's as though I was only introduced to these things once I had fostered a real respect for the railroad and what it represented. But actually, I think it was because I asked. They just never thought my interest was that deep, I guess. Well, I think it was rather obvious that I always loved the 765.

Soon the 765 will be back on the rails and I'll start my boys on a new, or is it old, experience. I certainly can't wait. It's been a long time. And there are many more youngsters that need to meet my old friend.