I was cleaning the garage at my parents house, Dad is gone and the house goes on the market tomorrow, and sweeping a pile of junk out of the corner I found some railroad date nails.

Dad worked for the railroad all of his life but I remember him telling me he started by going out to the GTRR (now CN) rail line that ran by the family farm in northern Saskatchewan and asking for work on the "extra gang", the labour parties that serviced the lines during the summer months. The first year he worked most of the summer before someone asked for his ID so they could tidy up the paperwork, finding out he was only 13 they paid him off and sent him packing... who knew, as a farm boy of 6 feet plus he was already a big guy. He was back the next year, at 14 he could legally work on the extra gang in those days, and the next year, and the year after that... it was good money for a farm boy doing some extra work.

Anyway, this brings us back to the date nails. These were put into the railroad ties so they new how old they were and when to replace them.

Dad was thirteen in 1938, I guess he kept these as souvenirs. They are now one of my most treasured records of my Dad.

 

My late father worked for the Canadian Pacific Railroad at age 16, in 1916. He was an engine wiper at Alyth yards, in Calgary. An engine wiper was as low as you could go for a job on the railroad. They did scut work after a locomotive was back in the shops after a trip. Dirty, filthy, disgusting work. Hard work. He earned 7 cents per hour on the night shift. He was sponsored by the Salvation Army because at the time, he had to wait one month for two weeks salary. He stayed at Alyth long enough to build a bit of a nest egg, and to re-imburse the Salvation Army. He had his meals at a local cafe. For 25 cents, he got a pork chop dinner with apple pie. But it was always a race to finish his meal before the cockroaches found it!

 

Your late father having to work for 3 1/2 hours doing a filthy & hard job on night shift to be able to pay for one meal for himself makes me appreciate how fortunate I am. Hearing things like this puts issues back into perspective. Thank you.

 

My mother would be given a bucket when she was 6 years old so she could go to the train tracks to pick up coal that fell off the trains in the dead of winter.