by Ted Benson/photos by Ted Benson and Dave Stanley
“Play, guitar, play,
Take me back to yesterday…”
—“Play, Guitar, Play,” Conway Twitty, 1977
Monday, November 14, 1977
Sunlight fades fast on an autumn afternoon, shadows stealing across the high desert as a silver Ford van skirts the Pequop Mountains south of Wells, Nev. It’s day three in a week-long photographic exploration of railroading’s “outlaw” state and the trip has locked into the “company notch,” capitalizing on short days rich in eloquent light.
Steel belts humming on the asphalt of U.S. Route 93, stone-cold country music rises above the eight-cylinder purr of the year-old Club Wagon’s 351 Windsor, Conway Twitty’s rich baritone flowing out of the tape deck in spare, plaintive verse.
“…Let me hear my mama callin’
Look a-yonder, y’all who’s comin’
Down the road, he’s comin’ home
But they know I never will”
ABOVE: The following morning, after picking up the interchange from Southern Pacific at Cobre, RS-2 101 returns south, again passing through the small village of Currie. The local will end its day 75 miles south at East Ely. —Dave Stanley photo
Describing the journey as a homecoming would be a stretch for two shaggy 20-somethings rolling into the Goshute Valley this chilly Indian Summer’s eve. Dave Stanley and I are a long way from our central California homes, the distance growing greater and the sky growing darker with every note of Twitty’s Telecaster-driven melodies.
Following an itinerary devoted to paired main lines and copper mines, we’re well past the limit of Bobby Bare’s “500 Miles Away From Home.” With Ely another 75 miles away and Nevada Northern’s twice-weekly local freight headed in our direction, our sights are set on Currie for tonight’s food and lodging. Two-plus hours lie between us and the train bound for transcontinental connections at Shafter and Cobre. There’s plenty of time to set up a night shot at the old railroad depot.
As twilight turns to dusk, the only visible sign of civilization is a handful of lights flickering by the highway where 93 intersects the NN tracks 63 rail miles south of Cobre. Resting at 5,800 feet above sea level, the hamlet of Currie is the brightest thing on the horizon — at least for the time being.
ABOVE: The 750-foot-tall smokestack at Kennecott’s McGill smelter towers over Alcos 102 and 103 passing Hiline milepost H-6 with a train of empties on November 16, 1977. KCC smelter emissions were a major source of regulatory misery for the company’s Nevada operations in the late 1970s. —Ted Benson photo
It’s been 36 years since a passenger train called at Currie, though you’d never know it. With fresh yellow paint, white trim, and train order signal intact, the building looks much the same as it did between 1906 and 1941, when an estimated 4.5 million people passed through on NN passenger trains. In 1977, the structure serves as a section house.
Acquiescing to our request in broken English, the section foreman grants permission to string wire and reflectors around his home. With 550 feet of lamp cord and six No.2 flashbulbs lighting the scene, a simple composition comes together in the usual 90 minutes. Now it’s time to don jackets, pour some coffee from the thermos, and have a seat in the truck as the temperature drops into the high 20s.
Shortly after 6:00pm, a glow appears to the south, its intensity growing with each passing minute. Dave is a newcomer to The Ely Route, and I’ve been priming him for the moment when Nevada Northern’s handsome SD7 rolls onto center stage. Dressed in an EMD-styled “Desert Warbonnet” of cream, red, and black, 401 has to be the prettiest Cadillac to ever roll out of LaGrange. An earlier phone call to Chief Dispatcher Jack Whitehurst in East Ely has alerted the train crew to expect some excitement at Currie. There’ll be no surprise aboard the 401 when night turns to day a few hundred feet north of Highway 93. The real surprise has been saved for the photographers waiting outside the depot.
ABOVE: On November 17, 1977, the northbound Nevada Northern local with KCC RS-2 101 clears the main at East Ely, to allow the westbound KCC shuttle train to pass, bound for the mines south of East Ely. For two young railfans from California, this rural outpost in the Silver State was a little slice of Alco-powered heaven. —Dave Stanley photos
Anticipating the rhythmic chant of an Electro-Motive 567 prime mover coming through the night, we soon realize that whatever’s chugging our way is no graduate of Dick Dilworth’s drawing board. The single-bell air horn calling for the crossing is clearly not the mellow Hancock air chime of the 401. A few lumen seconds later, Kennecott Copper 101 fills our viewfinders in a solid orange flash. Are you kidding? What’s an Alco doing here?
Darkness reclaims the depot as 25 cars rumble by in the RS-2’s smoky wake. Simultaneously excited and mystified by the Alco’s appearance, we roll up the flash kit and retire to the warm tranquility of Tom and Donna’s Currie Store. Half-pound Currie burgers and cold beer satisfy our physical needs while the second half of Monday Night Football playing on a TV above the bar serves up succor to the soul for two long-suffering San Francisco 49er fans. Having no love lost for Dallas and the presumptive pretense of “America’s Team,” we revel in the St. Louis Cardinals handing the Cowboys their first loss in a 12-2 Super Bowl season. Judging by the reaction of Tom and Donna’s regular patrons, we’re not alone in our sentiments. Sleep in a cozy two-bed tourist cabin comes easy this evening…
