The boy who loved trains and the city who embraced him

When you visit the yellow train depot in Morganton, restored to reflect its 1916 exterior with its waiting rooms and ticket master’s office inside, you will see this plaque.

IN MEMORIAM

Robert Douglas Walker Jr.

1937-2021

Founder and Curator Emeritus

of the

Morganton Railroad Depot Museum

Without the railroading knowledge and generous

Spirit of its founder, Doug Walker, this railroad

museum would never have existed.

Inside the refurbished depot, all sorts of railroad memorabilia are displayed, lots of it provided by my brother, Doug Walker.

Philosophers have imagined that times past and present stand side by side. One is just barely out of reach of the other. Today’s quantum physics, with its string theory, suggests that our universe could be one of many and implies that this might be true. Perhaps there are parallel universes. While what I know about quantum physics would fit into a thimble, I’d like to think that this is so.

If true, then my brother Doug Walker would be beside himself, a bit like passenger trains that pass in the night, with a quick view of the other. He would be overjoyed at the local grassroots effort of Waiting for the Train, begun and sustained by the vision and commitment of two creative women, Mimi Phifer and Barbara Lynam, lobbying to return passenger rail service to Burke County.

(www.waitingforthetrain.org)

This remarkable effort is now edging closer and closer to a time when passenger rail service will return to the Morganton Depot.

Their partnership began when Mimi returned to Morganton, restoring a home next to Barbara’s. She was invited over for a holiday dinner. Their conversation might have been: How do you like living in this downtown neighborhood? I love hearing the train whistle deep in the night. Such a wistful, melancholy sound. Like that wonderful line from the Cole Porter song, “These Foolish Things Remind Me of You,” the line that says … ”the sigh of midnight trains in empty stations.”

They knew that Morganton had a restored depot. That there had been no passenger service since 1970. Was the newly painted station waiting for a passenger train? What was needed to make that a reality?

My brother’s interest in trains started innocently enough. Most young boys in the 1940s had a train set or wanted one. One of the most popular producers was Lionel, which had no less than 48 models for sale in 1941.

What began as a hobby became an obsession. By age 11, Doug’s bedroom was replete with wooden sawhorses that supported an elaborate plywood-painted landscape.

There were farms and bustling towns, crisscrossed with railroad tracks and trains. Trains that whistled and blew puffs of steam. Had cow catchers or were express trains. My younger brother and I were forbidden to ever touch his trains.

Doug’s interest was certainly heightened by the number of trips our family regularly made to the depot. It was the hub of community life. He would often go with our Aunt Nan Jeter to retrieve packages. Our kinfolk from Raleigh sent everything from letters to bolts of cloth to China sets. Trains were the UPS of that era.

Once, my aunt, who had a decidedly eccentric streak, ordered a Chihuahua from Mexico. She had seen an advertisement for a dog that could sit in a coffee cup. Intrigued, she placed an order.

Later, a crate bearing a snapping, snarling little dog arrived. The tag read … “Hello, my name is Pedro.”

When the baggage master at the depot handed the crate down to my aunt, he said, “Look, Miss Nan, this says, I am Peedrow from Mexico.”

He pronounced Pedro as in pee in your pants and row your boat. That sounded just fine to both of them. So, the name stuck. Pedro, a.k.a. Peedrow, remained forever in a foul mood, probably the result of his name change.

All of us went to the depot with Mama when our father traveled to New York City. Usually on the Sunday 5 p.m. train, twice a month.

Jumping out of our car, we would tell him goodbye just as the big engine roared into the station, pulling its Pullman sleeper cars behind it. Railway cars that were a distinctive green with gold trim.

The Pullman porter would lower the steps and greet him. Then, after waving goodbye, he would retire to his sleeping compartment. Later, supper in the dining car and a good night’s sleep. He would arrive the next morning at Penn Station. Ready for a taxi to his office in midtown.

Doug began his love of railroad memorabilia in his early teens. It was to become his ruling passion.

As his collection grew, it became the basis for his lifelong interest in the old logging railroads of western North Carolina and east Tennessee.

Today, his vast collection of railroad switch lamps and other items is housed at the North Carolina Transportation Museum, in safekeeping for future generations.

Tramping over the woods in these regions gave Doug extensive knowledge, not only of the location of old rail beds, but also of the topography. For this reason, his opinion of suitable hiking trails was often sought after by hikers.

Over time, Doug, as an avid railroad buff, earned the title of “Trainman.” When the City of Morganton asked the History Museum of Burke County to manage the newly restored train depot, they knew just who to call. And as they say, the rest is history.

Doug enlisted the support of all of his railroading friends. They and he furnished the interior of the depot with the most amazing items.

(https://www.thehistorymuseumofburke.org/railroad-depot)

He treasured his many years there as a docent. He was clearly in his element, as he wore his striped engineer hat and regaled countless visitors with his many colorful stories of early train travel in Burke County.

Doug thought fondly of this quote by Edna St. Vincent Millay: “Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take no matter where it’s going.”

I can just see him when that first Amtrak passenger train blows through, with his conductor’s hat, standing just outside the door. His generous spirit will shine like the sun.

All Aboard, Doug!