by Kim Marvel
It’s a snapshot of history. I smile as I read some of the writing on the walls: “Two nuts went fishing here Oct 19, 1917”, “Frank M. Gray sheared sheep here June 25-July 2, 1919”, “Orville Schall hoed lettuce here June 23, 1922”, “Mr. H.J. Hyde and Vera came fishing and caught 10. July 25, 1928.” These 100-year-old inscriptions, written in pencil, have lasted through the decades. As people waited for the train to arrive, in a passenger shelter, they passed the time scribbling messages on the wooden interior walls. It’s a miracle the penciled messages are still legible.
My wife and I are the fortunate inheritors of this small, wooden structure that holds these precious writings. For decades, the shelter protected passengers from wind, rain, and snow as they waited to flag down a passing train. The wooden rectangular frame had a roof and was enclosed on three sides, the open side facing the train track. A sturdy wooden bench along the back wall gave weary travelers a place to sit while waiting. The bench doubled as a stepstool for graffiti artists to write their names for posterity high up on the wall. By the time the train stopped running around 1960, hundreds of travelers had written their names on the inner walls of the building. Many were dated and some travelers even recorded their home address. Now, a hundred years later, it is a treasure for anyone interested in history.
In the early 1970s, my parents discovered the passenger shelter beside the train track about a mile from their mountain property. The local train no longer carried passengers. The shelter, long neglected, was in poor condition with a leaking roof and leaning frame. It appeared ready to collapse with the next strong wind or heavy snow. With permission from the railroad, they used a flatbed truck to move the structure to a corner of their property. With a new roof and firm foundation, the shelter recovered some of its former pride when it housed waiting train passengers earlier in the century.
Fast forward 50 years. When my parents passed away six years ago, my wife and I inherited the property, including the passenger shelter. We took renewed interest in the curious little building. Again, we strengthened the leaning structure by reinforcing the wooden frame and replacing the roof. We shared our treasure with visitors. Friends and family delighted in the unique graffiti. One visitor, a lifelong friend and anthropologist, recognized the historical value of the shelter and recommended we apply to the state historical registry. With her encouragement and guidance, we pursued that goal. A knowledgeable and enthusiastic student from a nearby university took on our shelter as a special project. Her careful research provided new insights into the interesting history of the shelter. A hundred years ago, when train travel was the norm, passenger shelters were common. The small buildings went by various names, including passenger shelters, passenger sheds, waiting houses, or shelter houses. Our shelter was built around 1900. On the inner walls, over 335 inscriptions were written between 1912 and 1948. Most included dates and the names of waiting train passengers. There were a few simple drawings. Much of the writing had faded with time and was illegible. But some inscriptions, especially those on the upper reaches of the walls, were as clear as the day they were written. During its first 60 years, the shelter was located near a ranch, which explained the inscriptions about shearing sheep and hoeing lettuce. The student’s final report documented the purpose of the shelter, its place in local history, and detailed the numerous inscriptions on the inner walls. As a result, our passenger shelter is now listed in the state registry of historical properties.
I can easily imagine those travelers waiting for the train, stepping outside the shelter to peer down the vacant track, then restlessly returning inside. With time to spare, they reached into a bag, retrieved a lead pencil, and, with a chuckle, decided to record their name for posterity. Here we are, a hundred years later, smiling as we read their names. I feel an unexpected closeness with these travelers from long ago. Indeed, with a one-minute scribble, they did achieve posterity.
Kim Marvel is a retired psychologist and family medicine educator. He and his wife, Connie, live in Colorado and enjoy each other’s company while traveling, camping, and exploring the outdoors.SIGNATURES FROM THE PAST
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