(The following article by Vincent T. Davis and Anton Caputo was posted on the San Antonio Express-News website on October 18.)
SAN ANTONIO, Texas — Joe Celis only could stare in disbelief at the massive boxcar leaning precariously on the crumpled side of the apartment on Weymouth Street.
Inside, tenant Leonard Moyer feverishly carried belongings down the stairs under gaping holes where the railroad freight car had smashed through.
“This was going to be income for my retirement,” said Celis, 65, who bought the property, which has a house and a detached two-story apartment, about a year ago. “Now they are going to tear it down.”
Celis’ investment property — or what’s left of it — is one of two homes boxcars shattered when a Union Pacific train derailed around 11 a.m. Tuesday.
The day had started casually enough for Celis, who was sipping iced tea with his brother at a Mexican restaurant on Nogalitos Street when his phone rang. The call started a splitting headache that wouldn’t relent the rest of the day.
It was Moyer, who rented the apartment on Weymouth Street, with a startling statement:
“A train hit the house!”
Celis immediately drove over to his property not far from San Antonio College, shaking his head at the sight of a rail car crashed against the corner of the apartment.
Then a city inspector arrived with news that ratcheted up his headache.
Citing safety concerns, the inspector told Celis the apartment would have to be demolished as soon as the train was moved. A bulldozer will likely do the deed this morning, Celis said.
The inspector told him to take pictures of everything inside and keep receipts for any costs incurred. Union Pacific representatives gave him a phone number in Palestine to call when he has questions.
Celis and Moyer spent the afternoon doing just that, beneath the rattle of television news helicopters circling overhead and the occasional ominous sound of train whistles.
“Sometimes your investments turn into nightmares,” Celis said. “You buy a house, then here comes a train and blows it up.”
As the day wore on, Celis’ wife, Rosa, sat on the steps of the property’s main house, bordered by a several rows of stacked moving boxes lining the driveway. She chose to find some good in the situation.
“By the grace of God no one got hurt,” said Rosa Celis, 65. “That makes us feel good. We’re just tired of being here all day long.”
Meanwhile, Celis hung onto the black industrial side mirror of a Yellow Penske moving truck he rented to haul Moyer’s belongings away.
Celis guided Moyer as he backed the truck down the street clogged with media cameramen, railroad workers and family members ready to help with the move.
“I’m going to relocate him,” Celis said, hefting a box in his arms. “I need to keep going.”