(The following story by Linda Halstead-Acharya appeared on the Billings Gazette website on May 13. Doug Hedges and Steve Miller are members of BLET Division 232 in Laurel, Mont.)
BILLINGS, Mont. — When the train rolled out of Laurel, hauling 105 carloads of corn, assistant engineer Doug Hedges wasn’t sure if the dog catcher would be on their tail.
In rail terms, the “dog catcher” is a new crew that comes to relieve the old crew that has hit its 12-hour work limit before reaching its destination.
Hedges and engineer Steve Miller, both wearing traditional bib overalls, were headed for Helena last month. Miller knows the route well. He figures he has made 2,500 runs.
The 223-mile trip that takes less than four hours by car was expected to take between 10 and 12 hours by rail.
Averaging more than 100 tons per car, the Montana Rail Link train was restricted to 45 mph, less on some curves. The train – all 6,650 feet of it – was well past Park City, easing down a “sag” in the track, before it hit top speed. Between Grey Cliff and Big Timber, they say, the wind is so strong “it’s like setting the break.” Climbing over Bozeman Pass, even with three helpers, they would be lucky to keep it at 15 mph.
And that doesn’t take into account the hours sitting on sidings, waiting their turn to pass through.
“Beyond Amtrak and priority mail, nothing runs on schedule,” said Mark Smith, the Laurel terminal superintendent who rode along for part of the trip.
The three MRL employees – representing nearly 60 years of combined service – say working for the railroad is something that gets into your blood.
Smith, the youngest of five children, caught railroad fever from two of his brothers who work for the Burlington Northern Santa Fe Railroad. After graduating from high school in the 1980s, Smith, too, was eager for the paycheck. He tried to hire on with BNSF, but when that didn’t work out, he put in his application with the brand-new MRL.
“I got a phone call and here I am, 18 years later,” he said. “Once you’re in there and vested, you’d be foolish to leave.”
Times have changed since Smith hired on. He and Hedges, a Park City native who started with MRL in 1996, say they spent between six and eight years with the railroad before they could qualify for engineer training. Now, with baby boomers on the way out and the industry facing an employment gap, the wait is a fraction of what it once was.
“We’re at turnover now,” Miller said, “to where it takes less than two years between when a guy coming off the street can become an engineer.”
The three railroaders like the pay and benefits, which far exceed Montana’s average. But their jobs are not easy.
Hedges puts in between 110 and 130 hours in a two-week period. Depending on how the days and hours fall, he rarely qualifies for overtime pay.
For most rail jobs, the concept of weekends doesn’t exist. Hedges gets four days off a month. He can put in for certain days, but seniority determines what he gets. When Miller wants to take off more than one day in succession, he has to “lay off” and miss a trip, costing him two days’ wages.
Both can be called out any time of the day or night. Because Hedges is not on a permanent crew, his name is listed on a board with the names of 25 others. When his turn comes up, he gets the call and has two hours to be ready.
“This is hard on families,” he said. “I don’t know what the divorce rate is, but it’s high.”
The men can count on both hands the number of women among their ranks. Not many apply, Smith said, mentioning safety concerns as a possible cause.
“You can be out in the middle of the yard at night by yourself,” Hedges said.
Once on the job, Hedges says the essence of running a train comes down to basics.
“Keep your slack stretched or bunched and comply with your signals and restrictions,” he said.
An engineer or his assistant is constantly adjusting the throttle, maintaining radio contact with Missoula dispatch and looking for signals. In fact, attention to signals is so critical that being colorblind prohibits a person from engineering a train.
“Our lives depend on those lights,” Hedges said.
Staying awake for night runs, as the train rocks along, is just part of the job description. Miller compares it to constant jet lag. He battles the lulling motion with sunflower seeds and a jolt of caffeine. There’s also a “napping rule,” they say. If both engineer and assistant are fatigued, they can pull into a siding and notify dispatch that they’re catching a few Z’s. Should an engineer ever nod off on the job, he’s awakened by an “alerter” that automatically sounds if the throttle hasn’t been set or the horn hasn’t blown for a span of 40 seconds.
Like every job, there are downsides, Miller said. But for reasons harder to define, none of the three considers himself anything but a railroader.
“A lot of boys want to grow up to be engineers,” Miller said, smiling. “I did.”