Nothing Is Real

Let me take you down, 'cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields.
Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about.
Strawberry Fields forever.

John Lennon was not my favorite Beatle. He was a little scary, when I was a kid. Later I found a lot of his music abrasive. Of course he was an immense talent and created many beautiful, permanent songs. He also sang a lot of shit, and I never got the Yoko thing.

 
Still, no one can argue against John Lennon being the most interesting Beatle. Outspoken, rebellious, edgy, experimental. He fought the law, the law won, but John scored on appeal.

 
This drawing was produced on drugs. I admit it. Oral surgery painkillers. Turned out pretty well; maybe there's something to it. John seemed to like them very much. But I wouldn't like to try it again. I was awake for three days and had a headache for four.

The other new and interesting thing about this drawing, for all of the boredom aficionados out there, is the technique. A lot of this was drawn with the side of the pencil tip, particularly the shading. But in the end I didn't like the results -- too fuzzy -- so I went over it again with the pencil tip, to sharpen things up.

 
I, too am feeling more sharp. It was an ordeal but I like the results. This is a big one, like Lennon's mouth.
To tell the truth, my favorite Beatle was George.

John Lennon "Nothing is Real"
Pencil, 3' x 5'
This illustration is for sale.
Inquiries to hankbonesman@embarqmail.com

The Last Sexy Bullet

Tom,

I just read your info on the Erie Lackawanna 833.
My father JP Seifarth was the last engineer on that Youngstown to Cleveland run.
He passed away in 1993 at 75 years old, 45 years on the railroad, WWII vet, Combat Engineers.
Very proud of my father and mother, who sold War Bonds during the war.
I rode with him several times to Cleveland up in that E8 Diesel.
Thanks you for your site, it put a big smile on my face and a warm feeling in my heart.

John P. Seifarth II

Everybody loves a happy ending.

This 47th birthday gift to my brother was a little late. Erie Lackawanna 833, however, was usually on time.We used to watch this gorgeous gray, maroon and yellow bullet pull into downtown Warren, taking businessmen to and from Youngstown and Cleveland.

Erie Lackawanna 833, March 2011, 3' x 4'
Click on photos to view larger. 

"6:50 was the stop time in Warren, where the tracks are no longer there," brother Gerry says.
It was my father's ritual, getting little bro and I out of the house after supper -- and giving the parents a break from each other, I think.

A sexy bullet

The train station used to be off of Youngstown Road and Pine Avenue. There were two tracks and a parking lot that let you get dangerously close to the trains, which would occasionally sway.
We'd come home from these excursions covered with rust and railroad grease from exploring on the tracks, while we listened for the arriving diesel locomotive's horn off in the distance. Pennies we'd put on the rails would be flattened and we'd fetch them after the passenger train pulled away. Our father would stay in the car, reading the paper -- and then he'd put the paper in the foot wells so that we kids didn't mess up the Ford's carpeting.

Two views of Erie Lackawanna 833 and the sketch in progress.

Once or twice we rode this bullet with my dad and grandfather. It was strictly a guy thing. I remember  the passenger cars were like a charter bus on the inside, with high-backed seats and little towels on the headrests.  It was noisy and bumpy and epic badass bitchin' cool.
My brother loved this train. He amassed dozens of sound recordings of its passages, and took many photographs. He has HO scale electric trains that he's hand-painted in Erie Lackawanna colors.

Between Youngstown and Cleveland

Our mother Linda could not escape the rail fans living in her house. She did a large oil painting that hangs over Gerry's fireplace in Michigan. He was still in high school when she died. It was her special gift to him and is the most beautiful of her several dozen paintings, in my opinion.

My mother's gorgeous painting.

The 833 herself was a General Motors Electro-Motive Division E8, built in 1951. After Erie LackofMoney railroad got absorbed into Conrail, her beautiful stripes were painted over with a bland blue and white scheme.
According to American Rails Forums, 833 was the last E8 delivered to Erie and is the last surviving original Erie E8.
Conrail acquired No. 833 in 1976 when it absorbed Erie Lackawanna. It remained in use as a commuter train between Cleveland and Youngstown before that service was discontinued.

Happy birthday, my mother's other son.

After the Conrail takeover, there was one more active passenger equipped E-unit, No. 825, and she too would run between Youngstown and Cleveland.  When the units were re-numbered it became CR  4014 and, incidentally, pulled the last Cleveland-Youngstown commuter run into Youngstown.
Here's a sad picture of her sister 825 (4014) at the end: http://www.trainweb.org/randysrr/cr/engines/cr4014_2.html

End of the line.

For 825, there was no respect for what had been a showpiece locomotive for so many years.
The 833, meanwhile, moved west for use on Conrail commuter trains between Chicago and Valparaiso, Ind.
After Conrail got out of the passenger business, it scrapped most of its passenger units. The 833 was the only one spared, and became its business unit. The 833 was numbered 4022.
Gerry says: "Interestingly, this engine lived on to be the Conrail inspection train unit 4022, and with Conrail gone, went to Norfolk Southern, were it was sold to a museum and is restored. Of the several E8 units saved from this era, Erie 833 is in the best shape, and operable."

Our girl today.

The New York and Greenwood Lake Railway acquired the unit in 2007, christening the refurbished Erie E8A No. 833 from Conrail 4022. The original NYGL became part of Erie Railroad in 1943 while the modern operation can be found on the former Erie Railroad Dundee Spur in Passaic, NJ.
The respect for 833 has come full circle and it feels right.

Here she is at work, still beautiful. The whistle and bell sound just like I remember: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=684_O02iRbY
Also here: http://www.rail-videos.net/video/view.php?id=7681

Oh brother!

The Grass Was Greener

Beyond the horizon of the place we lived when we were young
In a world of magnets and miracles ...
The grass was greener
The light was brighter.

"High Hopes." David Gilmour/Pink Floyd Music Limited

I recently rescued about 100 family memories from oblivion. Four generations on my side of the family had become dried out, disintegrated, flood-damaged, faded and curled. I was 12 the first time I cut and framed these, on a Sunday in the living room of my grandparents' home. I'm 56 now.

For nearly four decades these photos, mostly old Polaroids, were protected to some extent inside ratty, ugly, unstable frames left over from my mother's painting days. They were too ugly to hang and were relegated to out of the way spaces, closets and until recently, the recesses of the basement. I felt guilty.

Most of these photos were taken by by grandfather, L.I. Wills, or my great-uncle, Paul Richel. They had big-bulbed Polaroid and Kodak cameras and I remember how annoying holidays would become -- all those flashes taking away from better things kids had to do.

Live and learn.

Click on photo to enlarge. Click again for greater magnification.

Here you can see Uncle Paul in the upper left, holding my dad, Thomas L., my grandparents' only son. The chubby kid to the right is my dad. Slightly under that picture is Dad holding me. The folks in the middle are my grandparents, Lorrain and Kathryn. There's a shot of me with grandpa next to that. Dad's Warren G. Harding High School graduation photo is in the center. The picture too faded to see is my grandmother, her two sisters, her mother and stepdad.

The sepia toned woman in the fluffy outfits is Grandma's mother. I do not know her first name but her last name was Kimball. She's holding Grandma in the one to the far right.  Under her is a snapshot of my brother Gerry. My parents' wedding photo is in there. The dapper dudes at the bottom are my grandfather, my grandmother's stepfather Gerry Gibbons (from England!) holding me, and Dad. The photo at bottom left is from my grandfather's retirement bash at Chateau Restaurant, Warren, Ohio. He was paymaster at Republic Steel for decades, when they did it all by hand. I did not inherit his math skills.

Click on photo to enlarge. Click again for greater magnification.

The sepia toned dumplings here are Grandma and her sister Evelyn (Richel), top, and her sister Lillian (Kean), center left. Evelyn and Kathryn are being held by their dad, center. Again, I do not know Mr. Kimball's first name. Next to them are junior high shots of Tom'n'Gerry. There's a photo of my drummer Dad in his Harding band uniform. There's a picture, top left, of Dad's cat George. Strange I can remember that. Upper right are the brothers Wills with mom Linda, and Dad. 

Click on photo to enlarge. Click again for greater magnification.

Lots of dapper shots here of Grandpa, Uncle Paul, Dad. Baby pictures of yours truly. Dad in his Army uniform. A picture of brother Gerry and I playing in the Gibbons' goldfish pond. Mom seated with her sons. Mom and Dad seated at the same fireplace at Grandma's house.

There's a picture of me with one of those Playskool bubble mowers. God I hate to mow. There's a shot of Mom and Grandma with me riding a toy fire truck. God I love fire trucks.

I had a wonderful childhood, fabulously cool parents, amazing grandparents and wonderful aunts and uncles.

The point of this occasionally teary exercise is to make sure none of their names and events are lost with me.

I admit to calling Dad to name-check a few folks.
My grandmother's parents names were Milton and Laura Kimball.
Grandma's stepfather was Gerald Gibbons, so she became Laura Gibbons
My grandfather's folks were Earl and Bessie Wills.

Now you know. Now I know.