RRRR Memories

(story by John Holod)

You asked for memories, stories and pictures. Pictures are a problem. Memories and stories are another thing. My wife doesn’t think this to be appropriate. But, if you grew up with the RRRR in your backyard, it became part of your life. So, you decide.

Rules and the Railroad

We need to start with the basics. When you live near a railroad, there are rules. We had basically 4 rules to follow.
Rule 1. Never jump on a moving train. You can get sucked under the train and get cut in half.
Rule 2. If you are on the tracks and a train comes, don’t run. If you run, you might trip and fall and the last half of rule one applies. Just get off to the side and don’t stick your hands out to try to touch the train. Don’t worry about getting mud on your shoes or pants.
Rule 3. Never throw rocks at the engine. You could hurt the engineer. Same with the caboose. ( there were still cabooses when I was a kid ) Box cars were fair game. Be careful of tank cars because a spark could cause an explosion.
Rule 4. If you see someone jump off of the train, let Mom and Dad know. It could be a bum or it could be a criminal. In case it is a bum, or gypsy, lock everything up. If it is a criminal, the police will take care of that.

That’s it. The rules. I was born in 1950 and things were kind of simple. Obey the rules, and everything would be all right. Of course the parts about the rocks and walking on the right of way are not necessarily part of the RRRR’s rules. But, we tried.

When I was in grammar school, and high school for that matter, we always “took the tracks” to school. It cut off huge amounts of time. My father actually made a gate, stairs and a bridge across the ditch. We were lucky. Other kids who took the tracks had to go to the Pearson Street dead end to find the short cut. They never had stairs. We did. Of course, once I got into high school, I found that walking a young lady home the long way was a lot more fun.

In any case, I attended William Campbell School. My parents tell me it is now torn down. Pity. We would take the tracks to a patch that would lead to Hillside Ave. then to David Street. After that, getting to school was cake. Seven minutes. Enough of a short cut that I could walk home for lunch. The tracks made all of that possible.

There are two memories that stick in my mind. One was how scared I was of the steam locomotives as they came by. The noise from the old Baldwin engines seemed deafening when I was very young. I would never go near the fence when one of them was coming. Too Scary!!!!! The other memory was from the fall. Every day, you could hear them coming. It would sound like a military maneuver. The sounds of feet running the tracks. You could hear the footsteps first in the cinders left behind by the old steam engines. Then you could hear chants. “We are the Rams, the Mighty Mighty Rams”, Beat Sayreville, Beat Sayreville or Metuchen or Somerville or Highland Park. It was the South River High School Football Team, on its way to practice at what is now Denny Stadium. I can remember how they ran with their helmets in hand and high topped cleats tied together and slung around their necks. Crew cut kids, mostly, wearing white practice uniforms or the colored jerseys from last year. South River did not have a lot of money, but they did produce some interesting football talent. In any case, everyday, rain or shine, they would run. I would sometimes run with them. It was great. They were my heroes. And, they ran the tracks.

The Moveable Bridge

As you walked down the tracks toward the river, you were exited because you knew you were coming to “the bridge.” It was the one turned with a crank. It was a place that you would generally go on weekends as there were no trains, the bridge was swung into the open position and the crew was not around. It sat there, past the station, painted black with a good deal of rust. There was a small shack near the left hand side of the bridge as you faced Sayreville. There was a ladder leading down to the rough poured concrete platform. The bridge itself was joined to the South River side by a very “bouncy” plank walkway without any handrails. It was about 4 feet off from the water. When you reached the center pier you could see the huge timbers that help form a protective structure around the concrete and metal of the bridge itself. When you got onto the concrete, you had to be careful not to step in the gears. Very Greasy! You could climb up the ladder to the tracks themselves.

With the bridge in the open position you could walk up and down the tracks on the ties, scared to death because there was nothing but open space underneath. The turning mechanism had either six or eight sides. There was a heavy steel bar that was inserted into a slot on one of the sides, and the bridge man would walk in circles turning the entire structure by hand. It amazes me now to think that the bar was always there, secured by a large padlock, but easy enough to break. No one ever seemed to mess with the bridge. It was just a fun place to go and play. On thing that always amazed me was that the tracks near the ends actually tilted up. Not much, but a subtle bend. I think it may have provided clearance when the bridge was closed. When in the closed position, they were flat. I don’t know if there was a mechanism that would lift the ends for turning or not. I would like to know.

Once in a while, there would be cars left near the freight terminal. We would climb on them pretending to be conductors or brakemen. We would even turn the cranks. When you are small, its amazing how big a boxcar can be.

Walking Up the Tracks from the Bridge.
With the bridge to your back, there was a freight platform on the right hand side. I recall it being painted white and green with some grey trim. Between the platform and the bridge I recall a siding that went to the silk mill, which turned into Liberty Cork. That siding may have extended as far as Division Street and the factories there. On the left was a siding that went along the river to the South River Water Works. On the left was also the remains of a brick factory and a gas station with a small oil storage tank. I believe that it was the Orsag Brothers.

At the crossing were the obligatory lights and gates. The gates across Whitehead Ave were manually operated. The signals were automatic. On the right was an open air farmers market. The market was run by and catered to the Eastern European immigrants that populated that part of town. It was a mixture of primarily Russians and Poles. If you were to proceed left on Whitehead Avenue, you would enter the part of town known as the “Russian Alley.”

At the crossing on the left was the Thomas and Chadwick Coal Company which sold Blue Diamond Coal. It was also an ice manufacturing facility that made large 300Lb cubes of ice which they would sell in whole, half, quarter and eighth sizes. It was $.50 for a quarter block when I was growing up. The coal yard had a scale and as many as five slots for coal. The coal reached the bins via an elevated siding. The cars would be backed up the siding and the coal dumped out of the bottom. At least that was my recollection. It would drop straight into the bins. My sister says the cars tilted. I do not remember that.

As you proceeded up the tracks you were passing homes on either side. At this point, most of the houses backed up the the right of way. Until you reached the Clayton Lumber Yard at the Willet Avenue Crossing. On the left was a storage facility or cutting shop. I believe it was storage because there was a siding there. On the right was additional storage and working space under cover. There were two buildings on the right hand side. As you crossed Willet Ave. there was a siding that went into the main lumber yard. A typical 1940’s -50’s facility with open storage and a small office. It was the kind of yard that allowed you to actually pick your lumber. Nice touch. Up until the 60’s it was the source for almost all of the lumber being used to build the houses in South River.

On the left hand side was the Memorial Cemetery.