I still vividly remember the night back in the 1960s when my mother woke my sister and me saying, “Get up and get dressed; there is something I want to show you.” We did as we were told and couldn’t imagine what we were going to see. We sleepily piled in the car, and Mother took us to the railroad crossing in front of the old Russell personnel building. It just so happened the day before a train had derailed, and several cars had skidded off the track and toppled over. No one was injured. We pulled off the road near the tracks. As I rolled down the window and gazed out toward the lights illuminating the work area, I remember hearing a group of workers chanting and singing in rhythm as they pulled lining tools to move the rail. At the time, I didn’t quite understand the process until Mother said, “Those are ‘gandy dancers,’ and they do work to the calls of the lead singer, to keep everybody in rhythm. It is basically a lost art now, and I wanted you to see them before they are all gone.” Little did she or I know that I would remember what I saw that night 50 years ago.
Growing up, I had to cross the railroad tracks twice a day, every day, as I attended school from first through twelfth grades. The only school on my side of the tracks was Laurel School, now Stephens Elementary in Alexander City. At that time, schools were not integrated. Often while walking, we would cross under the tracks going through the old tunnel hole, which was located adjacent to Hamp Lyon Stadium. Many times, the trains held up traffic, and I watched the cars go by, curiously wondering what was in those tank cars or noticing lumber or trucks strapped down on flat cars. I always hoped to one day catch a glimpse of a hobo!
