How many of us “experienced” modelers can remember the special thrill we felt when we started out in this vast, creative hobby we call model railroading? We entered virgin territory, worrying not the least about what we yet had to learn, only enjoying the moment, and imagining the miniature wonders that we would someday create. Those faltering first steps happened in a very narrow and fragile window of time — a special time when anything and everything seemed possible, and we weren’t held back by what we didn’t know. The conventions that would later bind us to any number of modeling conformities had yet to appear. But they would, soon enough. “Adherence-to-Prototype” and its ugly sibling “Peer Pressure” would soon be knocking on the door, ready to crash the party.
Like one’s first kiss, or one’s first solo trip with a newly minted driver’s license, our wondrous early days of model railroading can be remembered fondly, but never revisited. “First” happens only once. After that, it’s memories and souvenirs.
Speaking of souvenirs, look at these two narrow-gauge boxcars on the opposite page. They’re approximately half-inch scale, riding on O gauge trucks. They were a gift from my friend Bob Heard. Bob built them during his “Age of Innocence.” They were some of his first models. Bob is a watercolor artist. When he started building railroad models, he knew very little about prototype narrow gauge railroads or of the abundance of modeling materials available to him, but he jumped in, nevertheless. Being an artist, he knew the look he wanted and turned out these weathered and sway-backed beauties. Yes, those old cars are riding on modern roller-bearing trucks. But innocence, remember? If you absolutely require a precedent, I can tell you the Greater Winnipeg Water District Railway in Manitoba had a truss-rod wooden flat car that was upgraded with roller-bearing trucks to serve well into the 1990s.
But there’s no need to justify such an anachronism when you remember how these models came to be in the first place. Bob’s cars are on prominent display in my layout room because they make me smile. I thought some of my high-end modeling buddies might be dismissive of them, but they smiled too. Bob models on a much higher level these days, but I’m glad he didn’t discard these early souvenirs.
The On30 tank car seen on the opposite page is from my own “Age of Innocence” some 60 years ago. It started its life as a plastic HO scale Hobbyline tank car. In the late 1950s,
Railroad Model Craftsman ran a construction article about the Crooked Creek Railroad, a little 2½-by-4-foot layout. I thought I’d build my own version. In my modeling innocence, I took a hack saw to the tanker and a few other models, so that I’d have some “shorty” rolling stock ready for the new pike.
I never built the Crooked Creek, but my good friend Fred Headon did, so I gave him my shortened cars. Fred’s CCR formed the nucleus of the large HO layout that he has to this day. Over the years the smaller pike slowly vanished from view as the large layout took form around it. Whenever I visit Fred’s Assinaboia Central, I can still pick out scenic elements of the long-vanished CCR. It’s like tramping an abandoned rail line that’s been swallowed up by nature.
Some years back I took a vacation from my S scale Port Dover Branch layout to build an On30 project layout for the July 2009 issue of RMC (“Modeling on a Budget: Lake Erie Aggregate”). When Fred heard what I was up to, he gifted back the tank car. With a little wood planking on the deck and some arch bar trucks, the HO shorty was transformed into a working relic to ride behind my On30 Davenport. Funky-looking? Yes. Prototypical? Who cares! With a construction period spanning a half-century, this little tank car certainly qualifies as one of my longer model projects.
How about you? Where are your souvenirs? Hiding in a box under the layout? Forgotten in the garage? Perhaps it’s time for the light to shine on them once again, if nothing else, to see how far you’ve grown, and to remember the good times you had along the way.
—Jim Martin