The date is easy for me to remember—Sunday, May 11, 1941. I
wasn’t quite 9 years old and I was one more excited youngster. It was Mother’s
Day.
That was the day the Missouri Pacific lines inaugurated a
brand new streamlined train through Helena en route to and from Memphis,
Marianna, McGehee, Lake Village and Tallulah, Louisiana.
They called it the “Delta Eagle.” After all, we were in the
heart of the rich delta farming area. Farmers made good money with cotton and
other things some years. Less so in others. And the railroad hauled
agricultural commodities as well as people.
I guess it was a couple of weeks earlier when my
grandfather. Edwin A. “boss” Hicks, a prominent Phillips County planter and
ginner, came home one day and called my mother in the living room. “Here Marian
Louise,” he said, giving her three round-trip train tickets, “you and your mama
(Mellie W. Hicks, my grandmother) and the boy get on that new train they’ve
been talking about an enjoy its first trip to Memphis and back.”
At age 9, minus a couple of months, I felt like I was on my
way to heaven…with a round-trip ticket.
The big blue and cream-colored streamliner, with the silver
eagle on the locomotive’s nose, was no stranger to the area. Missouri Pacific
had been showing off with private runs, charters for civic and business groups,
etc… but this was its first run for the general public…a “Mother’s Day gift
from the railroad,” a train official proudly said.
The Eagle was not a long train…only 2 coaches plus the 1,000
horsepower diesel engine made by the ElectroMotive division of General Motors
Cosp.
The front coach contained a forward U.S. Mail post office
and 60 comfortable coach seats for African American passengers. That was the
era of segregation but regardless of a person’s color, everyone around then was
excited about Helena being on the route for the nation’s newest streamliner.
The second coach with 48
seats contained a grill, complete with kitchen two tables and a counter with
three stools. No matter where you sat on the train, someone would take your
food or drink order and serve you at your seat.
I was early that Sunday, so
were my mother and grandmother. The train was due to leave Helena shortly
before 10 a.m. and put us into Memphis a little before noon.
A crowd was at the classic
old depot, at the foot of Cherry Street – which survives today as the Delta
Cultural Center, complete with a meeting room named the Delta Eagle Room.
Mother managed to find a
parking place out fron for our 1939 pontiac. Not staying overnight, there was
no luggage to fool with mother and grandmother sat in one of the depot benches
and talked with friends they knew who were making the trip. Little Randy went
outside by the track to listen for the deep sound of the diesel’s horn. I also
looked at the little gas electric “doodlebug” parked near the depot. It had
arrived from Clarendon shortly before 9 a.m.
Finally, we heard the Eagle
blowing as it came in from Helena Crossing past the Helena Cotton oil Mill and
as it neared the Arkansas Street crossing by the Economy Grocery. Lights were
flashing red on the street as the switchman fixed it where we could back the 4
or 5 blocks into the station. Then slowly we headed in that direction as our
eyes watched for the rear end of the new train to come into view.
One final blow of the horn as
the train crossed the road leading up to the seawall and down to the Helena
Perry landing. Finally, with hissing and air horns and cheers from the crowd
the beautiful train hummed to a halt. Doors were opened a few passengers
getting off at Helena did too.
Then it was our turn,
stepping first on a step stool, then grabbing a hand railing and making the
next two or three steps into the coach. The train had a new smell to it, plus
the waft of breakfast food cooked for others on the train headed north.
We found seats together, a
way from the may sunshine and grandmother wondered how long we would be at the
station. About that time, I said, “Look mom, we’re moving,” The smooth diesel
eased out of the station, we could hear the horn blowing, and we began
gathering speed as we headed toward Helena crossing out where the new Helena
Bridge now comes into town.
Continuing to pick up speed,
we were soon crossing the highway where my grandfather’s Wycamp Gin was
located. And in a little while we paused at the busy railroad point called
Lexa. That is where the railroad iced a lot of their refrigerator cars from the
Rio Grande Valley as that produce headed north and to the east. My uncle Julian
Tardy ran that icing operation for the City Products Company out of Chicago.
Next came Marianna then
Hughes, more people were out to see the train than actually got on it. I did
not know anything about head counts back then, but I would sey the Eagle that
day was pretty full.
During the war years—Pearl
Harbor was only 7 months away, there would be many a time when there was
standing room only on the train, even with a third coach added to the consist.
I wanted something to eat,
but mother kept saying, “no honey, we’re going to eat when we get to memphis.”
So I setted for a Coca-Cola at the price of 40 cents a bottle plus a dime tip.
Who ever heard of paying 50 cents for a Coke?
The conductor stoped at our
seat to visit, and let me examine his ticket “punch.” He had been by shortly
after we left Helena and punched our tickets but he was too busy to stop then.
Next thing we knew the train
was on the trestle as we heared the Mississippi River. As we crossed the
Harahan Bridge we could see the Memphis skyline and the muddy waters of ‘ol man
River below us. Also cars on the single lane of road paralleling the train
track. Once across we threaded our way through a maze of tracks leading into
Union Station, tracs used by the Rock Island, Illinois Central, Grisco,
Nashville, Chattanooga, St. Louis as well as the Missouri Pacific.
The Rock Island had its own
streamliner which served Arkansas, the “Choctow Rocket” which ran daily between
Memphis and Amarillo, Texas. Arkansas stops included Forrest City, Brinkley,
Little Rock – at the famed Choctaw Route Station, now the Clinton School of
Public Service. It also stopped at Booneville after gliding past Roland, where
I live now and wonder what it must have been like to see that Rocket go by
right down the hill from my home.
A couple of minutes before
noon, the Delta Eagle backed into Union Station, the conductor on the PA system
thanked us for riding and invited us to come again.
Mother, grandmother and I
quickliy found a yellow cab which took us to the Peabody Hotel for what they
thought would be an elegant lunch on Sunday.
I don’t know what kind of
fancy food they had, but all Randy wanted was a peanut butter and jelly
sandwhich. “Surely you want something else, honey, we’re at the Peabody,” my
mtoher said. “No, I don’t,” I said. So while they dined royally, I enjoyed my
two slices of white bread spread with peanut butter and jelly…just like I was
at home.
After lunch, I looked through
the lower level window into the studio of Radio Station WREC, which I could
pick up at home clearly. Little did I know that I had jobs in radio coming my
way…first at KFFA in Helena in 15 years, and then at KTHS in Little Rock, the
50,000 watt powerhouse known now under the call letters KAAY.
The ladies wanted to window
shop…stores were not open on Sunday. Mother noted some articles of clothing she
liked, wrote down the inscription and jotted down their phone number from a
sign on the door.
Around 3 p.m. we caught a cab
from the Peabody area back to Union Station, and made our way to the gate where
the Delta Eagle was sitting. We boarded about 3:40 p.m…many of the folks who
had come up that morning decided to spend the night. Other’s didn’t. But the
Eagle was less crowded gowing back, or so it seemed.
Twilight eventually overtook
us with just the glow of street lights and car headlights. Traffic was far from
heavy in those days.
Next thing I knew, I Was
sound assleep between my mother and grandmother. It had been a BIG day in the
life of a 9 year old who hasn’t lost his love for trains more than 70 years
later. The swaying of the coach lulled me to sleep until I felt my mother nudge
me, saying: “Wakup honey, we’re almost home,” AS I looked out, we were backing
into the Helena depot…and I had arrived home with a lifetime of memories.
Randy Tardy is the retired transportation/business
writer for the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette in Little Rock. He covered railroads,
airlines and river traffic from 1976 until 2001.
