Last week, we took the Rapid Transit on our way to Walnut Wednesday. As we strolled through the Terminal Tower, we paused to look at a restored train schedule on the wall. Admiring the bronze handiwork, I began to imagine what it would have been like to journey by rail in the golden era of train travel.
This led us to pick up something at the library about Union Station. It is a reproduction of a book originally published in 1930 after construction of the Terminal Tower was completed.
As it happens, the idea for the station began as a way for the Sweringen brothers to get downtown. They lived in Shaker Village and wanted to build a rail system between their digs and their office. The plan expanded, with the result being a terminus that, in its heyday, had 23 platforms and 34 sets of tracks for the railroad and the Rapid Transit.
The interior of the station was constructed of Botticino marble (walls and columns) and Tennessee marble (floors) and lots of bronze. If you were waiting for a train, you could dine at the Harvey restaurant or lunch room. Get a haircut or shave at the barber shop. Browse the book shop. Or pick up sundries at the drug store.
I suppose some would argue that it's just as pleasant to pass the time sipping a Mocha Venti in an airport waiting area. But, in spite of the advantage of speed, I can't see it.
The magic of moving from one place to another is lost on our generation. It has only been in the last 100 years or so that traveling has become more about the destination than the journey.
If I could time travel, I'd love to go back, dine at the station, and be giddy about my impending trip. Then revel in the anticipation as the conductor called "all aboard!" and the train gathered momentum on its way out of the station and on to adventure.
Somewhere, unbidden, come strains of Arlo Guthrie singing City of New Orleans. I gaze out at a breathtaking sunset.
Then, the daydream ends, and I'm back in my car.
Speeding along to nowhere.
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