Page# 4

"Earning" My First American Flyer Train Set

1. An ad in the Chicago Tribune
It was Sunday morning, and I was eager to get to the "funnies" leafing through the various sections of the fat "Trib." newspaper and kind of skipping around, when a small add with a picture of a train caught my attention.

2. Selling subscriptions to win (hard earned) American Flyer train set!
I looked closer at the add, about the size of an index card, and , WOW, it was an "American Flyer" Steam engine with streamline passenger cars and an ATSF diesel set with freight cars, that were pictured.

The add read, as roughly remembered now, "...earn an "American Flyer" train set, complete with engine, cars , track and transformer, by selling 1 year subscriptions to the Chicago Tribune. Sell at least 24 verified subscriptions, and you can win either the freight or passenger set. You must bring the subscriptions to the Chicago Tribune offices. After verification you must pick up your train set in person....there was a lot of "fine print" and something about consenting to being photographed..."

Could I get my first American Flyer train set?...Could I do it?... would my parents let me go door to door, knocking on strangers doors? ...and could I meet all the "Tribs." requirements and deadline?

3. Subscriptions for 1 year, sold door to door up and down walk ups
My parents , after calling the Tribune, getting particulars and discussing the "train matter" at length, finally allowed me to pursue my wonderfully exciting adventure of reaching for my dream...getting an American Flyer train...that I had been drooling over an fantasizing about since seeing, hearing and smelling American Flyer trains running in toy department the previous Christmas Season at Marshall Fields in the "Loop".

The reality probably was: "...thank god he's going to be out of the house for a while..." My father, especially could not understand what I wanted with yet "another" train, and one that did not "fit" with my HO layout that I had built on a piece of plywood, slid under my bed when not in use, and my Marx O gauge trains that I would set up in different configurations on the floor and play with for hours.

He just did not, could not understand the impact on my senses that fateful winter day at Marshall Fields toy floor. I just had to have those magnificent looking, sounding, smelling American Flyer trains.

As my parents often both worked to make ends meet, American Flyer was too expensive for them, and the ONLY way I would realize my dream was to go after the "Trib." deal and sell the one year paper subscriptions as a pleading, hopefully persuasive, boy could.

4. Finally, getting the required subscriptions signed up and verified.
It was the beginning of school for the fall and before I could do any "selling" I had to do my homework first and then finish chores (part of the deal I made with my parents so they would acquiesce to my incessant begging). Then I could go out into the late afternoon and more often evening, chasing my dream, selling subscriptions, so I could get that AF set.

As I started out, the general neighborhood that I lived in on the north side of Chicago, about ten blocks or so, NE of Wrigley Field, was just about all three or four story walk up apartments three or four on each side of a central stairway for each building. Some reeked of cigar smoke, and various oders, the best being garlic and or baking bread... that would get me hungry! Most were clean and decent a few where primpy and some were dirty. All seem to be poorly lighted.
Knock, knock, knock...no answer, ...go away!, ...who is it? one door after the other, one floor after the other up-down and on to the next building. One building then another. It was getting dark, and the spookiness factor started to affect me.

Then a miracle, one subscription signed up, a form from the Tribune had to be filled out and signed and then submitted by me.

The next day I did it again, pounding the concrete sidewalks and clattering up and down thousands of steps... and the day after... and every day that I could and that my parents allowed me to. Weeks went by, the days grew shorter and colder and now I was out in the dusk and dark most of the time. September had passed and into October. The Tribune deadline was getting closer, and I was still struggling to get the required amount of subscriptions. I was now many blocks away from home and it took me about half an our just to walk back home in the dark.

I had twenty subscriptions now and was getting close...finally after many more ups and downs and multitude of steps,doors and buildings I had gotten 27 subscriptions. Then, with my parents help, I submitted them to the Chicago Tribune per their instructions. Days went by, each day the w..a..i..t..i..n..g agony increased, getting more impatient, hoping to hear from the "Trib."

Gee whiz, what the heck, dam it!...what is taking them so long?...well wouldn't you know..."they" said some of the subscriptions were not valid...a few people decided not to subscribe, one or two said they had not subscribed (yea, how did I get all their information on the form they signed), and one lady said I "forced" here to sign.

Oh well, so I went out into the dark, and now cold evening, and started up and down stairs again, knocking on doors, building after building...and then... finally got enough subscriptions that did get verified and were valid to meet the Chicago Tribunes advertised quota. Now more waiting and more waiting, a few calls from my parents to the tribune and more waiting.

It was almost Halloween! THEN... a letter arrived from the tribune, some papers had to be signed and I would have to submit them in person at the Tribune editorial floor in The Tribune Building, to be able to claim my (VERY hard earned) American Flyer Train Set of my choice.

5. Downtown to the "Trib" and my "prize" for selling subscriptions.
On a nice early afternoon, school was done, I headed downtown via the Wilson Street station on the CTA towards the "Loop" and the Chicago River, where the grandiose edifice of the Chicago Tribune building still stands today. I ran to the front of the "L" and got my favorite seat on the front car, left hand side right across from the motorman's cabin. Here I had an "engineers" view of the track, signals, switches and all the drama of zipping along Chicago's north side heading south.

Sometimes the curves were so tight that I seemed to be hanging out over open space, as the train lurched and jerked it's way onward, and then down the ramp and into darkness and the screaming-screeching roar of the subway train traversing turns and crossovers, bright sparks laced with momentary dark and fast stops at stations and fast starts onward.

My stop was next, getting very excited now, my face was flushed, could not wait for the doors to open and spit me out...I ran to the steps and bounded up towards the daylight two, three steps at a time....then there it was the unmistakable pleasant smell of the turquoise green Chicago River with a bit of Lake Michigan mixed in. This was interlaced with fumes from buses and cars and the street. It was great, I was flying towards the now very large edifice of the Chicago Tribune building, a truly magnificent building and a Chicago landmark. Then I was at the huge bronze entrance doors and went into this great temple of a building.

6. The "Trib" , elevator to the "top"
Gleaming, polished stone an artful metalwork everywhere. Asked for the "editorial" floor, and was directed towards an open elevator car, the bellman asked where I was going...I reported proudly, and a bit loudly.."the editorial floor please"... There was a metallic whoosh as he closed the doors and then turned a large round handled crank, up we went clink-clank as we passed each floor and then, momentarily, I floated as he slowed the car down and announced "editorial floor". The car came to a stop smoothly with a tiny bounce, doors opened and the floor level matched exactly with the car.

Wow! There was a huge expanse in front of me stretching into a blue mist. Desks everywhere in rows, people clattering away at type writers, teletypes clinging in the background people scurrying about. Puffs of smoke from just about everybody ..cigars, pipes and cigarettes... it was actually hazy!

7. The Desk and the "Prize"
I asked a receptionist for the editor and told her why I was there...she led me back into the hazy inner sanctum and there, a man with a cigar wedged in the side of his mouth addressed me , told me to sit at his desk side, and he went off. Shortly he came back with two other men, one carried some papers and the other had a large camera with a big flash attachment.

Some questions asked, papers to sign by me, then the guy with the papers wandered off and in a few minutes came back with an assistant carrying two large boxes. It was the two American Flyer sets they had shown in the original add, and they were LARGE boxes.

8. A new A.C. Gilbert American Flyer freight or passenger train set.
One set had a SantaFe Blue Alco PA diesel freight set. It was beautiful, had track, transformer and some accessories...do not remember what...probably the air chime horn, and an electric uncoupler. The other set was a heavy die-cast steamer, probably a 314W Pennsy K-5 with whistle in tender, choo-choo and smoke and four aluminum lit passenger cars with silhouettes. It also had track, transformer, air chime whistle, an uncoupler and I believe a newsstand with hot dog vendor was part of it.

9. The choice:
Now for the really hard part. I had to decide which set...they were both the best of the best, both beautiful and worth the hard effort to get here. Boy oh boy...well my memories of that last cold, windy, snowy November at Marshall Fields Christmas toy floor ... the WOW of seeing, for the first time, the scenicked American Flyer store layout, intertwining multiple tracks, artfully laid out, multiple trains running in all directions, the sounds, the choo-choo, whistle, smell of the scented smoke, the realism of two rail "T" track set in rubber roadbed.

10. A large, heavy box, with a passenger train
Then it hit me it was amongst other things the impression of the realistic looking steam engines, the motion of side rods and valve gear, the sound of the choo-choo and then the scented smoke...not to mention a preference of a steam whistle over a horn. And then there was the gleaming aluminum passenger cars with lighted silhouettes and a dome car and observation car. That was IT!

I wanted the steam engine and those great looking passenger cars. My mind was made up. I announced my choice and promptly signed some papers, and then was staged with my AF set for photographs, some handshaking a few more photo's and then it was over. I could head home with my prize that I earned with hard work all by my self.

11. Carrying that box home
I was given the huge box and it was heavy too. I could barely get the precious, hard won cargo under my arm. Several people clapped as I left. One of ladies congratulated me and escorted me to the elevator. I was beaming pride, got on the elevator, the bellman congratulated me, then the ground floor and a wide open late afternoon glow came through the lobby, filtered by haze.

Out through those great bronze doors and into the open air. I was so excited, my dream had come true. I had an American Flyer train set, held very tight under my arm. I have to mention here that at my young age I was very strong and already six feet tall and still growing, even so that was a big heavy box, and it was taxing me to carry it. Changed carrying it from side to side as the entrance to the north bound subway presented itself.

Down the steps, this time carefully, more alert now...after all I had very precious cargo under my arm. Then onto the platform...waiting for a train...wanting to get on and get home as soon as I could, before it got really dark. It was a few minutes and there came the subway headed for Evanston and my stop at Wilson Street. Got on board fast and grabbed a seat, hugging my big box. It seamed like a really long time, but eventually we rose out of the tunnel and up onto girdered bridge work, clattering, sparking, squealing in the curves. The signal lights intense in the gathering dusk, past the CTA elevated shops and finally Wilson Street Station.

12. Home and reception
It was a ten block walk home, turning into a dark night. Street lights provided beacons beconing me onward and home. Finally I was there just up steps into the hall and up two flights of stairs, and I was home. I clattered at the door and fumbled for my keys, I could smell moms cooking wafting through the door and then it opened.

I was home with my precious cargo! Then the first thing I hear is mom admonishing me for being late and to get in the kitchen to help her, set the table and so on. Tookoff my shoes...we did not wear street shoes in the house...then I put the big heavy box carefully on my bed, went into the kitchen and proceded to do my mothers bidding helping with this and that setting the table and preping food for dinner.
Soon there was noise at the front door, sound of shoes dropping and various muffled tones as my dad arrived from a days hard work and proceeded to rid himself of work clothes and get into his house clothes and then get his slippers on, sit down in a comfy chair and stuff his pipe and lite it up...then read the paper..after a few minutes I ran to greet my dad, a kiss and a hug...but nothing about my afternoon adventure or even a question about whether I had succeeded in my quest. In fact as dinner was served and through dinner neither my mom or dad asked me anything about the great struggle I had endured and the prize I had earned for my self. I was so disapointed in them, They did not seem to understand how hard a struggle it was and why it was important to me.

13. The American Flyer dream comes true
It was the next day after school that I was finally able to open that big box, that had been teasing me through the night to open it. I was so excited as I opened each car box carefully, pulling of the circular tubes protecting the couplers and laid out each car on the bed, wow they were beautiful. Then I pulled out the track, lock-on clip, wire, transformer, air chime whistle, instruction book, smoke cartridges and funnel and finally that incredibly beautiful black heavy steam engine.

Oh my gosh..I was so impatient, quickly figured out how to put the track together, an extended oval that fit perfectly on top of my bed covers with room left over on all sides. I had a fairly stiff bed so I did not have to worry about anything tipping off sides. Put the clip on to track...and then had to look at instructions to hook up whistle and transformer...finally got that done. Now I was ready to test engine. I had to figure out how to add the smoke fluid, got that done. Now the engine was on the tracks, all wheels checked, plug in transformer and gently turned handle...nothing but the light turned on. Now what, I turned it off and tried again, the engine started to move backwards. Turned it off again and turned it on again, same thing happened then tried turning off and on again and the engine lurched forward and I increased the throttle and now could hear the ch..ch..ch..ch.. of the choo-choo and a bit of smoke was beginning to puff out in time to the ch...ch..ch..

WOW the hairs were standing up on my arms. I ran the engine faster and now the smoke was trailing and drifting off to the side, just like a real steam engine... Now for the whistle. As the engine approached I blew the whistle one long two short one long as the engine passed and rounded the curve heading of and down the other side of the "layout" Man was that greeaaat! The sound was thrilling, the on board whistle trailed off and changed pitch as it passed (Doppler effect). Boy oh Boy was this ever wonderful.

Now I added the passenger cars, and slowly cranked on the "coals". The cars lit up, smoke started poring from the stack and my streamlined passenger train was on it's way to far off distances, blowing whistle at imaginary grade crossings. It is hard to put in words how wonderful it was to sit there and run my American Flyer train in a darkend room with the engine headlight playing on the walls of my room and the lighted silhouetted passenger cars illuminating the right of way, that wonderful scented smoke billowing forth and drifting along the cars and finally that goose bump producing whistle sounding off in the night, announcing the urgency and importance of carrying passengers to some distant destination. I would sit there, for what seemed hours, removed from everything, transported to a universe where all was good and right and trains ran on time all the time...........Peter Loeb, Chicago Illinois, the late fifties, My first American Flyer Train.