It has been a pleasure of a very high order to work over the years in the archives of NTV. You might have guessed that from watching my humble offerings over the years on what was once known as the silver screen. It is like a glimpse into the past to know who we were is to help us understand who we are.

Now I want to share something with you and it may shock you. It is that there is an unreal quality to the archives here or elsewhere. That’s especially true in the early years, what I have presented is a television film archive and television in Newfoundland and Labrador only has a history that goes back to the mid-1950s. The early offerings, although preserved by CJON forever, are in black and white and we did not live in a black and white world.

A great portion of the archives the stories preserved in black and white are from the very early days of television. That is true of a lot of things but certainly is true about a subject of which much has been written. It is the oft-told story of the loss of our Newfoundland railway.  Now it is something of I know a lot about because I worked at the railway in several capacities over the years from office work, to loading trucks, to my proudest moments of working in the dining cars of the old cross island express, affectionately known as The Bullet. I know that story backwards and forwards because I was on one of the last runs of the cross- island passenger express. It was in July of 1969 and wasn’t actually the last run, but it was the second last. We went from St. John’s to Port aux Basques as a working crew in the dining car but ‘deadheaded’, as the expression goes, back to St John’s. That means the crew came back with the dining car and our sleeping car but there were no passengers on the train. It was over. When the train pulled into the station in St. John’s my work with CN was finished.

Now that brings me to how the story of the trains in Newfoundland, as presented to you, is something of an illusion. The railway was never a black and white world. It was a world of rich colour, both on board the trains and across the island. The trees were wonderful. The towns were wonderful. The rivers were great and our glimpses of the Atlantic Ocean were striking. When I wasn’t actually working, I would stand out on the “break” as it called between cars and watch the world go by.

The whole thing was filled with colour and with layered sounds and smells. There was a distinct sound to the rails and the brakes as the train ran over them. There was a sound to the dining car and a sound to the kitchen. The train itself ran on diesel in my time. Older people may remember the coal burners, but they were gone before I arrived. Wherever you went on the train in my day there were things to smell from within the train and from outside it.

At breakfast, dinner and supper our dining car was alive with  the rich smell of food and the food was good. There was bacon in the morning and fried eggs floating in fat and big roasts at dinner and soups all over the place. Apple pies were actually cooked at the CNR bakery in St. John’s and brought on board for the trip across the island. This was presented in a dining car that was neat as a pin. That is why I present to you now with this article a colour picture of the interior of a dining car where I sometimes plied my trade.

I was a summer relief worker as a waiter.  The men in the picture you see are all full-time employees. That picture is warm and inviting. The dress code called for neatly pressed black pants, a white shirt, a black necktie and a fresh white apron and of course black well shined shoes. If you were really cool you had a hand towel around your arm.

For those who might think the service in the end had deteriorated you are wrong. That was a story floated by those who said the railway was stolen from us. It wasn’t. People just stopped using it because buses were a quicker way across the island of Newfoundland. I always say that people liked everything about the cross-island train except actually buying tickets for it. I remember our dining car had six or seven waiters and a cook and a cook’s helper and, in the final days, a total of less than a dozen paying “sleeper” passengers. If you had a sleeping berth, then dining car meals were part of the cost. If you were just riding in the coach seats of another car the costs of meals in the dining car would keep you out. Sandwiches and soft drinks were sold “in coach”. 

Enjoy the picture from the interior of the dining car during the glory days. Look at it and then close your eyes. You can almost hear the echo of a far-off whistle and that clickety-clack sound from a part of our heritage now gone.

You can contact Jim Furlong at jfurlong@ntv.ca