Union Pacific No. 4014 is the largest operating steam locomotive in the world.
Notching 1.2 million pounds and 133 feet in length, the behemoth was one of 25 engines built for UP in 1941. Its normal home is Cheyenne, WY; but the last so-called “Big Boy” made its first-ever trip east of the Mississippi this summer in honor of America’s 250th.
Though my Webb-space generally covers vocab & culture, I’m also a die-hard railfan; so this week, I’m stepping away from regular fare to describe my two trips chasing this beast — which drew sell-out crowds at such nearby sites as Steamtown and Horseshoe Curve.
I wanted to see Big Boy in motion, preferably in a place with reliable parking and decent sightlines.
So I picked Warsaw, NY — roughly two and a half hours away. This was partly from nostalgia, as my namesake and grandfather — Joseph W. Smith Jr. — concluded his Erie Railroad career at the station in that town. Located beside a mile-long straightaway, the depot has long since been torn down, leaving a broad flat area of gravel which — given Warsaw’s bucolic rural locale — did not seem likely to be overrun with fans.
And it wasn’t.
Mindful of the train’s 9 a.m. departure from Buffalo, I arrived at 9:30 and was eventually joined by about two dozen cars and perhaps 100 people on both sides of the track. As so often on its summer sojourn, Big Boy — leading a consist of tank-cars, modern helper-engines and a long retinue of passenger cars — ran roughly 90 minutes behind, not showing up till past 11; but it was worth the wait!
With ear-splitting blasts on its steam-powered whistle — recalling for all the world a factory shift-change — 4014 thundered through like a dinosaur on wheels (24, to be precise). It was so overpowering that an older fellow next to me actually fell down!
No, he wasn’t struck — just overcome; and since the poor man was now kneeling on trackside rocks, another guy and I helped him up — though in retrospect, this put a damper on the sight we had waited for so long. Nonetheless, we were all upright for the final car — the 1927 Pullman sleeper Marco Polo, which once carried FDR.
As icing on the cake, when I gathered up the four cents I’d put on the rails, I found a 1941 wheat penny, with the date still clearly visible — even though it had been smashed flat. A true coin-lover, I know I didn’t put that rare piece down; where it came from will be forever shrouded in mystery.
As 4014 headed on to Binghamton, my homebound route through Corning would’ve availed additional sightings; but I had my dog along and couldn’t ask her to endure more car-time on that blazing day. And so, having missed a second sighting — and some of the first! — I was determined to catch 4014 again a month later, as it left the Harrisburg area for Altoona and Pittsburgh.
I’d initially considered its 30-minute scheduled stop in Lewistown; but social media showed these events getting way too crowded. Indeed, at one station in Muhlenberg, after a long wait in 106 degrees, more than 100 people were treated for heatstroke — with at least 35 taken to area hospitals.
No thank you.
Instead, I grabbed my friend Clement — a 21-year-old Montoursville lad who is wheelchair-bound but always up for an expedition — and we headed to Mifflintown. This was a crapshoot, picked only because a map suggested good track-access in several spots.
As it turned out, we hit the jackpot.
With some guidance from a friendly local lady, we found “the flats” (as she called it) — a wide open area at the edge of town. Good parking, a fine view and not too crowded — though it was quite a challenge getting Clement’s wheelchair over the ballast (that’s railroad parlance for the chunky stones on which tracks are laid).
UP’s website offers a Big Boy “tracker” (yes, that 85-year-old engine has a computer in its cab!) — and as we got settled, it showed the train less than 10 miles away. But alas, in typical railroad fashion, the engine sat there for more than an hour while two massive freights barreled through instead; but once again, it was worth the wait when the mighty monster materialized in a mass of steam and noise — thrilling (and slightly deafening) many delighted kids in our trackside queue.
Clem and I headed home through a snarled yet friendly traffic jam — the kind of thing that accompanied Big Boy throughout its historic visit. All told: six hours of travel and waiting for five minutes of railroad glory. But folks, this was once in a lifetime. Or in my case — twice.
And the second time, no one fell down.
