A Day on the Sidetrack
Vintage Royko | Chicago Sun-Times | Jan. 29, 1981
Whatever happened to the people, places and issues that columnist Mike Royko went after -- or championed -- during his legendary run? Today and in coming days, we'll check back in with some of Royko's best columns and get you up to speed.
One of the most difficult challenges facing any married man is coming up with a believable excuse for staying out late at night.
(Tom Cruze/Sun-Times)
They can range from the banal ("There was a sixteen-car accident on the expressway") to the imaginative ("And after the janitor locked me in the office, and I got out, I got on the elevator and it broke down between floors and . . .").
But no one has ever called his wife late at night and told a story that compares with that of William Goodloe, twenty-six, of Maywood, a computer operator.
To appreciate Goodloe's story, we have to start at the beginning, as he tells it.
He left home for his job at Pandick Press Midwest Inc., 111 North Canal. He walked the few blocks to the Melrose Park commuter station where he catches the North Western.
But as he approached the station, he saw a very long freight train slowly going by.
"It must have been three miles long," Goodloe said, "and as it was going by I heard the bell ringing that meant my train was going to be coming in."
The westbound freight blocked his way to the passenger station, so Goodloe was afraid he would miss his eastbound train.
"This has happened to me before, and what I've done is cross the freight train. It's a little dangerous, I know, but I've been careful."
What Goodloe did was scramble aboard one of the flatbed cars on the freight train. Then he intended to jump off on the other side.
"The trouble was, just when I was getting on the freight, it started going faster. And by the time I got past the truck trailers it was carrying, it was going faster.
"So when I looked down at the ground, and was going to jump off it, it was going so fast I got scared."
So he stayed on the freight.
"I figured, OK, I made a mistake, and I'll just ride to the next station, and when the freight stopped, I'd get off."
Not a bad plan. Except that the freight train didn't stop at the next station. It was going about forty miles an hour when it went through.
"It didn't even slow down," Goodloe said. "And, man, I was getting cold. Going that fast on an open car, my behind was freezing off.
"But I wasn't worried. I knew it had to stop or slow down pretty soon. So I just sat there shivering and waiting.
"But when we went through Geneva, I thought, 'Oh oh, I'm in trouble.' That's the last commuter stop.
"And then it went faster and faster. Man, it must have been doing sixty miles an hour, and that train was rocking and vibrating, and I thought I was going to bounce off. I wasn't only freezing, but I thought I was going to go flying off the car. So I just found something to hold on to and I hung on."
Every so often, the train would whiz through a town and Goodloe would wave and shout at people, hoping they would realize he had a problem.
"They'd wave back at me. They thought I was being friendly. Or they'd point at me and laugh. They thought it was funny that somebody was riding on a flatbed freight car, I guess."
The train rumbled on. Goodloe hung on and his teeth chattered.
"I decided I'd better try to crawl to either the engine or the caboose to see if I could find somebody and let them know I was on board. I started for the caboose, going from car to car."
But before he made it, the speed dropped. The train had slowed because it was approaching the bridge that spans the Mississippi River.
Goodloe was about to enter Iowa.
"I didn't wait. I jumped off. One of my shoes fell off when I hit the ground. Then you know what happened? Somebody in the caboose yelled, 'Did you enjoy the ride?' They knew I was on there all along. Maybe they thought I was a hobo."
Goodloe put his shoe back on and headed for a road. He was about 180 miles from home and he had $1.45 and his brown-bag lunch in his pocket.
"I was hoping to find a cop to find out what I could do."
And as he hoofed it down the highway, he found a cop. Or the cop found him.
Goodloe started to explain what had happened. But it isn't easy to tell in a few words a story about trying to crawl across a freight train in order to catch a passenger train, etc. Especially when your teeth are chattering.
Then Goodloe noticed that the cop kept looking at him suspiciously.
"Just wait a moment," the policeman said, going to his car radio.
And in a few minutes, other policeman arrived and Goodloe was taken into custody.
He had become a suspect in the wounding of a policeman in a nearby Iowa town the day before.
"They said I looked like the guy who shot a cop."
Goodloe was taken to police headquarters in Clinton, Iowa, where he was questioned and photographed so his picture could be shown to the wounded policeman.
"I mean, I was really feeling like the world had turned upside down on me. I start out the day by walking to my train to go to my job. Then I wind up in Iowa suspected of being a gunman. Wow, what a trip."
The wounded policeman looked at the photo and said Goodloe wasn't the guy, so the police told him he was free to go.
"I got on the phone and called my wife. I told her that I was in Iowa. She said, 'Where?' I told her: 'In Iowa. I got here on a freight train.' And she said: 'All right, where are you?' I said: 'I'm in Iowa. I got on a freight train. The police thought I was a gunman.' And she said: 'Now, I'm going to ask you again, Where are you?'
"Boy, it took me a long time to convince her. Then she and my father drove there and got me."
Goodloe's story is true. The police confirmed it. "Yeah, he kind of wandered in on a freight train," a policeman said.
And did the experience teach Goodloe a lesson about not climbing across freight trains?
"I suppose," he said. "But it wouldn't have been bad in the summer. The Mississippi was kind of pretty."
Goodloe, now 54, still lives in the same Maywood home -- but he hasn't had to tell his freight train tale much since the company he worked for closed. "Every time someone would come to the company, I would have to tell them the story," he said. "We made copies of the article, and I would give it to them and autograph it. It was fun." Now he's a handyman, doing a bit of everything -- "Roofing, plumbing, wiring, wallpapering, painting. Walk the dog and bathe him, too, if you'd like."
So, did he learn his lesson? Yes, but it took a while.
"Yeah, I hopped on a couple freight trains after that," he admitted. "But I gave it up. I said, 'I don't need to be going to Clinton, Iowa, again.' I don't catch trains anymore. I drive everywhere I want to go."