Freight trains use to haul mountains of coal from the mines near Sloss Hollow, the place where I was born, to the raging furnaces of U.S. Steel in Birmingham and Pittsburgh.
The coal boom that began in the 1800’s brought settlers from all over America and Europe to work in the mines. Camp houses were built on the sides of the railroad tracks that led to the mines.. Sloss Hollow was one of those places.
Most of the men who lived in Sloss Hollow would get up before daylight and walk down those tracks to labor in the mines with picks and shovels. When they came home in the evenings they were as black as the coal they dug.
Our family moved to Sloss in the early 50’s and most of the mines had played out. Not many trains traveled those tracks.
The old steel rails that ran through the heart of Sloss Hollow were rusty. Sage grass and bitter weed grew through the gravel bedrock, and there was always a faint smell of creosote.
All the kids who lived there played on the old tracks. The effects of all that creosote will probably be passed on for generations. Now and then we would hear the low moan of the train horn and feel the rumble of the steel wheels, we knew the train was headed for Sloss. Every kid in the camp would bail out of their house to watch for the train.
One warm summer day, I heard the train and I ran to the house to get my Buffalo nickel. I raced to put the coin on the tracks and then jumped back a few feet to see what happened.
The engineer laid down on the horn and the old railroad man smiled as we gathered and waved. After the train passed, I looked for my nickel, and so did the other kids. Soon someone yelled, “here it is.”
That nickel was still hot from being smashed under the wheels, but it was as big as a quarter and almost as thin as a stamp. You would never have guessed there was once a buffalo printed on it.
Those trains left a lasting imprint on me.
In the early 70’s I was working for a weekly paper and I got the opportunity to write a story about trains. My assignment included a ride with the engineer on a huge freight train.
It was a beast, and it ambled from Birmingham to a small town several miles west. I was mesmerized by the journey. At one point, we approached a small community near the tracks. There were barefoot kids playing nearby. The engineer let me blow the horn and the kids waved and howled with laughter.
My own memories came rushing back and brought a smile to my face. As we passed by, I wondered if any of those kids had ever put a nickel on the tracks.
