Evening star., 1924-08-23
THIS AND THAT
BY C. f. TRACEwELL.

sioning that interesting place.
Every one knows, for instance, that
the concourse is large, but few realize
just how large. AS a matter of cold
fact it is bigger by many square feet
than the concourse in either OF New
York city's great railroad stations.
The concourse in Union Station here
contains 1852 square feet. The
similar area in the Grand Central Sta
tion in New York has only 75,2OC
square feet while the new Pennsyl-
vania Railroad station there has a
| concourse with but 58,528 square feet
| of room
| Yes. Washington'S own Union Sta
| tfon is a wonderful place, from its
| magnificent concourse to its So miles
of track operated by the Washington
| Terminal Company. There are 2C
| upper level tracks and IL tracks on
| the lower level.
1t is out on the tracks beneath the
umbrella sheds, and farther out, that
the real romance of railroading is
seen at its best. There puff the great
engines, there glide the long Pullman
cars. carrying their most precious
| freight.
| To the man on the outside, looking
| ln-the average passenger-the world
beyond the gates is one seen only in
| gllmpses as he gets on and off his
train. To the trainmen it is the real
world. 1t is the work shop, the office
II you please, of the railroad man. An
old story to him. these putting mon
sters of steel, yet story that never
| grows ic
through the crust Of an engineer, but
| once you do, the pride of occupation
CLEANS in his eyes. He deals with
elemental things. No poring over
hgureS for him, but the conversion OF
black coal into white steam, and the
transformation of steam into invis-
lble, but tangible power. Motion is
his, and the whirl of the wind, and
the rush through the night. around
WIDE curves, with plunges into tun-
nels darker than night itself.
| Ihe passenger, the traveller has
this advantage over the railroad
man: All that he sees, all he expert
ences' has the tang of novelty. No
| matter now often a man travels on
railroad trains, unless he be a drum
mer, the spice of novelty is his. After
! all, is not novelty the real condi-
| ment of life? Men conduct a life
long search after it, and no sooner is
| 1t found than they weary of it, and
| must be off on the age-old quest
again. We demand new books. new
| plays, new music. not because the
| old are not fine, but because we must
| have something new Even in
| heaven. L am sure, we will grow
| tired of the golden streets, and Won
der what is out there in the crystal
| maze, calling US on as of old
| x x x
To many persons the most thrilling
sight in the world is a great railroad
| train.
Such a spectacle remains so, despite
| the marvellous airplane, craft of rnys-
terry, air winger, dream of Daedulus
| and Langley come true
There was an air pilot who said he
got no thrill out of wartime aerial
/ battles comparable to that secured in
! a close game of chess.
| To me no thrill in the science of
| transportation equals that to be de-
| rived from watching or riding a
| great modern train. Here man is
| master of the elements for once in
! his brief career. To stand by a
| track, see the train round Il curve,
| bear down, flash by so smoothly. so
| run up the back, as when one reads
| a story told by a master. Looking
i out the window on the flyer hearing
| the clack- clack -clack watching the
| hylng telephone poles and the cows
| in the fields, and the corn, and the
| dipping villages with their waving
| children. this is to experience some
! thing of the thrill of railroading. And
| then to stand, a all of us have at
some time or other. in the concourse,
| while the long train pulls in, bear
| ing an expected dear one-well, is not
that sort of Immortality, giving us
back again one we had loved and
lost a while?
Such thoughts come as one stands
in the concourse at Union Station.
But let us go back into the gen.
eral waiting room, the real melting
pot of Washington. Here every one
comes, rich and poor alike, for even
the rich still travel on the trains,
while many of the poor have taken
to automobiles.
Here is a portly man with glasses
set up on his forehead, his arms fold
ed on his paunch, as if waiting to
lecture some young man. What has
Old Age to tell Youth, anyway? Not
much. it seems to me, but Youth has
everything to whisper to Old Age.
There is another old man. poring
over a little memorandum book, like
Father Time making his annual
check-up. What would Time be do
ing in Union Station, where great
clocks tick him off to eternity sec
ond by second?
See, Father Time comes to life,
What is he looking at so? Let me
whisper it: The stockings of yon
fair younger person. Did I not say
that Youth had much to tell Old Age?
x x X x
What do the thirty-six statues
around the waiting room, up there
where the concealed lights shine out,
mean to the average waiter here?
Absolutely nothing! One can look
it up in the guide book, but we have
no guide book handy. We would
prefer to ditch those ancient Roman
figures, with their shields, and sub
stitute thirty-six eminent Rotarians,
or kiwanians. Now that would be
something like.
We would prefer to take these four
Dunkards, just coming in from the
trains, transmute them into marble,
and place them around to be the
everyday gods and goddesses of this,
our waiting room.
All in brown the ladies go, with
tight-fitting bodices and sun bonnet
hats. The men are sawed-off little
fellows, with tremendously broad
brimmed hats, very straight brims, as
If Indicative of the straight path to
glory.
Information" and Travellers Aid"
are kept busy these days. How does
a man ever learn as much as these
young men behind the information
desk? They know more about trains
than Hartman ever knew. Ask them
anything, they tell 1t to you.
At the Travellers Aid of the Dis
trict timid travellers, especially Wom-