The most evocative sound of all

When I was 5 years old, I used to lay awake at night in my bed in my grandparents' house and listen to the sounds of night.

They lived in north central Ohio, in a little town named Crestline that once was the biggest railroad center between Pittsburgh and Chicago. There was a massive roundhouse outside town where locomotives from several railroads were serviced, repaired and renovated.

Dozens of trains passed through town, both day and night, and each and every one of them had that long whistle that signaled their presence with what is without doubt the most evocative sound I have ever heard.

I was born in California and lived in Chicago when I was very little, but the only part of my life I could remember was in Ohio. So the thought that trains were passing through and taking people to Chicago, or New York, or far-off California was very exciting to me. I dreamed that someday I would be riding on trains like that, traveling all over the world.

They had such great names, too. The Broadway Limited ran from Chicago to New York, while the California Zephyr took passengers from Chicago to San Francisco. Then there was the train immortalized in song by the late Steve Goodman, which ran from Chicago to St. Louis to Louisville and then on to the City of New Orleans.



John Denver, Arlo Guthrie and Willie Nelson all had more famous versions, but I also liked Jerry Reed's performance.



Wonderful trains, wonderful memories. And sadly, almost all of them are gone now, lost to a world that started turning faster and faster and lives running at such hyperspeed that getting on a train to cross the country was a total waste of time.

But of course, we lost something when life speeded up so much. Not only did we cram ourselves into smaller and smaller airplane seats, not only did we stand in longer and longer lines. No, we also put ourselves on the short leashes of laptops, cellphones and BlackBerries that have almost totally destroyed any sense of privacy we once enjoyed.

But imagine that 5-year-old. It was 1955 and the American Century was at flood tide. Imagine the dreams of an American generation whose parents had survived the Great Depression and saved the world for democracy in World War II.

We could do anything, and the trains would take us there.

A few of them still exist, but nothing like they once did. It has been a quarter of a century since passenger trains stopped in Crestline, Ohio, and apart from the East Coast corridor, nobody rides trains for business anymore.

I can't remember the last time I rode a train in this country. In 2001, I took the Chunnel train back and forth between London and Paris, and in 1977 I rode around Europe with my first wife using Eurail passes.


But someday I'm going to fly to Chicago, take a taxi to the railroad station and board the train with what I always thought was the greatest name of all.

Empire Builder.

It was named for James J. Hill, head of the Great Northern Railroad, and it has covered a 2,206-mile route from Chicago to Seattle since 1929.

"Fastest and finest between Chicago and Seattle," the ad read, and in those early days, it must have been an amazing way to travel. Passengers got to see all of the northwestern United States, from Chicago through Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana, Idaho and Washington.

At Spokane, the train split, with the last four cars hooking up to another locomotive for the run to Portland, Oregon, while the Builder went on to Seattle.

I can only imagine a 5-year-old, living out on the prairie, hearing the sound of the train passing through and thinking that someday he or she would go to Seattle ... or to Chicago ... or to anywhere the train could take them.

"Good morning, America, how are you? Don't you know me? I'm your native son ..."

Don't ever fool yourself into thinking we don't pay a price for progress.