How two railway photos helped spawn a book

The locomotive hissed and groaned as it inched its way forward. A small band of angry workers held its ground against the rumbling giant. A few of the workers shouted themselves hoarse, trying to get the engineer and the railway police to back off. Others hurled rocks at the train,which was attempting to push its way along the railway siding that led to the Nafziger Textiles plant. In the middle of the barricade stood a bewildered Eddie Daoust, a cigarette pinched between his thumb and index finger. He hadn't smoked in three years but couldn't resist a quick drag since he had a fierce headache from the diesel fumes and noise. 

So begins my short story, King Eddie, a tale that is included in my first volume of short stories, Sunshine at Night. The book was released in 2017 and updated just this fall to include another story (the original book had nine stories and I couldn't live with that).

The image I have included above is from a 1991 photo that was reprinted in my 2008 feature story in the Waterloo Region Record, the newspaper I worked with until 2009. The workers in the photo are striking employees of the Budd Canada plant, which was later known as Kitchener Frame. And yes, it is the same Budd company that also became famous for its rail car division. 

The Kitchener plant once employed as many as 3,300 workers by some estimates, as it was a key cog in the North American automotive parts network. The plant was opened as a direct result of the 1965 U.S.-Canada auto pact, which brought untold jobs to Canada. 

The plant had a colourful history, with years of unprecedented growth and profits, as well as years marked by wildcat strikes and layoffs. The plant closed for good in 2008.

When its owner, Martinrea International, closed the sprawling operation in late 2008, the head of the union local said something to me that was succinct and quite powerful. 

"This time, we won't get back up."

Indeed, it was an awful time in the region, as the automotive parts industry was decimated by the global recession and the freefall of the Detroit Three automakers. Kitchener Frame, in the end, made chassis for GM's line of SUVs, which was well on its way to oblivion.

That photo, to me, is a powerful image that fit the theme of the book Sunshine at Night. These were normal people doing something extraordinary, because they were fighting for what they believed. You don't have to agree with their point of view to admire their courage. The book is very much based on the premise that even the most ordinary life is extraordinary.

But it was the man in the middle, whom I later tracked down, that first inspired the character of Eddie Daoust, along with the man who was the union local president at Kitchener Frame. The man in the photo, John Coleman, had a look of determination in his eyes that made me think there was more to that image that needed to be told. You can even see his cigarette pinched between his fingers in the photo. It was a detail too good not to use in my story.

Truthfully, though, the story was mainly inspired by the head of the plant's union local, who told me, "This time, we won't get back up." He was a tough man, but fair. He often made things difficult for me as a reporter, but he earned my respect nonetheless. He didn't suffer fools gladly and was not afraid to be blunt when he thought the situation called for it. 

On the day I was laid off in 2009, I remember talking to him and he grudgingly said I was an okay reporter and did a decent job. It was high praise from him. I never forgot that brief exchange. 

I'm not mentioning his name, because he went on to other prominent community positions after his time in the CAW (Unifor now) and I honestly don't know what he'd think of my character, Eddie, and his resemblance to him.

But for our purposes, it was the railway image that sparked the initial seeds of the story, because it motivated me to wonder what it would feel like to be in a position where you had the fate of that many people in your hands with everything on the line. The drama was something that felt real and touching, to me.  

Here's the other image that also inspired much of the story.

This photo, above, is from the same story I wrote in 2008, when the old Budd plant closed for good. That story, which was a long feature that ran on the front page, is one of the articles I am most proud of from my time as a reporter. 

But it was this image of a train being held up on the tracks that also inspired my story King Eddie. I know from my dad's time as a unionized worker at a power plant that these types of stand-offs do happen, but this one just seemed too rich to not mine for a good story. That is why this image ended up inspiring the first scene in my story of workers holding off the charge of a train. I can't imagine what that scene was like in real life, but I enjoyed imagining it in my story.

In my time at the Record, I became more and more involved in labour reporting, which I found fascinating, given the high stakes at play in 2008 and 2009 when the manufacturing sector in the region was being pummelled by the recession. I remember once doing an interview with CBC Radio about one of these situations. It was a fascinating time to watch the human drama unfold and try to do it some justice through the written word. I miss that.

The other union stand-off that inspired my story happened at another plant in Kitchener, Ledco, which was owned by the same family that controlled Canadian Bank Note. Ledco was a small company by the time it came to my attention. The company, which once made components for the famed Canadian supersonic fighter jet, the Avro Arrow, was on life support when we received word that the company was essentially out of money.

Long story short, the owners had pressured the company's unionized workforce to take a 25-per-cent wage deduction and 20-per-cent benefits cut in exchange for keeping their jobs. Many of the unionized workers were already laid off, so it was already a tense situation.

What happened next made national news. The workers showed up to work and were locked out. A notice on the plant's doors said they were all terminated and that the business was closed. That began a tense stand-off where workers barricaded the plant and prevented the company's remaining products to be shipped. Ledco, like Kitchener Frame, was a parts supplier to the automotive industry.

Making matters more complicated, a few workers insisted to me that they had taken a vote of their peers and were prepared to accept the company's terms. That vote was not sanctioned by the union, which essentially meant the workforce was divided.

Then, some workers decided to break into the plant and occupy it. That lasted a few days until a court order declared the occupation illegal and cooler heads prevailed. 

One last footnote to the genesis of this story. There was one other plant that closed in my time in the region, which made felt products. I was shocked that such a business event existed in Canada in 2008-09, but it did. There were elements of that company's demise that made it into my story.

The whole point of this is to explain how much a muse the railways are to me in my writing. There is something about the railways and their impact on our country that makes them such a rich image and powerful inspiration to our art. 

It's not just me. How much art in Canada in inspired in some way by our railways?

He rolled down the window. He could hear the faint cries of the morning Via Rail train as it approached Louiston. He knew it would whiz through town just like it had done for years.  

The story, King Eddie, was the beginning of a prolonged period of inspiration that resulted in the book Sunshine at Night. And it was those two powerful railway photos that kickstarted the story, which ended up being one of the centrepieces of a book. 

If you ever wonder why I write about railways the way I do, maybe this will give you some insight into how my mind works. To me, there is an emotional response when I hear a train or see a train. There is something about them that resonates deeply within me. They have always inspired me and they will.  continue to do so. 

Details matter

I found myself passing by Fallowfield Station recently when I decided to stop in and see if something was imminent. Luckily, a westbound from Ottawa's main station was making its way to the station, so I took to the east platform to get a few shots. It turned out to be a double-ended consist of the silver streamliner (HEP) cars with two P42s. I figured it was worth a few shots, just to get some seasonal variation in the photographs I share here. You can see a hint of the snow plowed off the end of the platform.

The first detail I noticed was how dirty the train was. The lead P42 920 clearly needed to go through the wash stand, but I suppose it's a tough assignment to keep these trains clean shortly after the first snowfall of the season, combined with the subsequent melt and the rainfall in the various regions where these trains operate. 

 

 

The second detail popped out immediately. Do you see it? Unlike the lead P42, the trailing engine still has a bit of its as-delivered blue paint shining through the wrap. It was a bit odd to see this, as it looked out of place. I have seen many wraps, but most have the plow of the front repainted.

 

Speaking of paint schemes, you can see the original lettering peaking through the wrap on this dirty trailing power. I'm guessing such minor details don't matter much right now, as I'm sure these units aren't long for this world. The Venture takeover will soon mean many of these older locomotives will retire from revenue service or head to another railway. 

 

This is a shot I took this summer of a genset locomotive that handles the plant switching duties at the Nova Corunna refinery. The detail I liked in this photo was the line of towers and power lines. Anyone who has been in the Sarnia area knows how much energy is needed for these refineries to operate. This is also an area where an immense amount of energy is managed through cogeneration, solar, battery storage and other means. And the power supply just keeps increasing. I could have zoomed in on the locomotive, but I also liked that I captured some of the refinery and the massive pipes in the bottom right of the image. This would be great information to use if I had a model railway setup right now.

 

 

Here's one last image from this summer that has a lot of details, like the photo from the Nova refinery. I wasn't really enthused about catching another Via Rail Venture consist while in Stratford, so I set up across the yard on a side street. The details in this photo are what make it more interesting than a standard railway photo. These are the details I wanted to catch: the station undergoing renovations; the rail yard; the grain elevator and the crossbucks. I left a piece of the tree in the shot intentionally, mostly because it was protecting my shot from a complete washout due to the sun.

 

The harsh sunlight required a fair bit of colour and lighting correction, but I think it was worth the effort. As I have mentioned quite a few times, I have been aiming of late for images that are more than just the standard wedge shot. I think setting a scene where a train is operating makes for a much better image.

 

The details are what fascinate me now as much as the trains themselves. 

Why I remember

Remembrance Day is always a solemn and meaningful day in Ottawa. I have lived here in this city long enough that I still remember attending ceremonies at the national cenotaph downtown and being able to see World War II veterans parade around the National War Memorial. 

You can make fun of Ottawa a for lot, and many do, but this city remembers and I am proud of that tradition. A few years ago, a colleague of mine from Carleton University sent me a message thanking me for convincing him to go to the national ceremony years earlier, as our university professors told us it was worthwhile to do so, as budding journalists and as Canadians. I had to confess that I don't remember much of that ceremony, but I'm proud I made a small difference that day.

Here's a story from my family that makes me think about war; how it sometimes brings out the best in us when we fight against the worst in us.

My grandfather, Egidio, grew up in relative poverty in northern Italy. When World War II broke out, he was forced to enlist with Mussolini's forces. My Nonno, as I called him in Italian, was part of the occupying forces in what was then known as Yugoslavia. As we all know, the Italians eventually overthrew their dictator and killed him in 1945.

When that happened, the country's army essentially disbanded, which meant my Nonno and his friends were stranded in Yugoslavia, amid the very people whose country they occupied. Making matters worse, the Germans were hunting down the Italians as traitors, as Italy had already brokered a peace with the Allied forces.

I don't know the particulars of much of the story, as it was told to me in pieces by my Mom and my Uncle John. They told me my Nonno and his friends ditched their uniforms and relied on the mercy of the various people living in Yugoslavia, as they moved by night to get back to Italy by foot. I was told they slept in barns, begged for food, were given clothes to pass as civilians, and kept out of sight. 

As if crossing a country on foot while being pursued by Nazis wasn't bad enough, my Nonno and his friends had a friend who was injured and could not walk. Although he told them to leave him to die in Yugoslavia, they refused. They fashioned some sort of makeshift sled and pulled him, using their belts. 

They dragged him home to Italy. 

This is the part of the story that always gets me. When asked why they would risk so much for one man, their answer was simple. They could not return home and face that man's family if they left him behind. That type of selflessness and heroism is but one example of countless acts of bravery.

My Nonno and I at Heritage Park in Calgary, 1991 

I know this is not a heroic tale of what Canada did during the wars. I love my country and have mixed feelings about my family's war history. 

We Canadians all know what a sterling war record our country has, a legacy that sadly was built on the blood and sacrifice of millions of people, many of whom whose stories will never be told. I can still recite In Flanders Fields word for word, as it was drilled into us as kids at school. That poem, to me, is the ultimate tribute to those whose stories will never be told, but whose actions paved the way for the Canada we enjoy today.

But I mention my Nonno for a reason. After the war was over, he made his way to Canada to work for the Canadian Pacific Railway in British Columbia, so he could earn enough money to bring his family over. Eventually, the family settled in Windsor, including my mom. 

I will never know more of my Nonno's story as he spoke mainly Italian and spoke very little English. I will also never know what effect the war had on him, but I'm sure it did. I do know that, were it not for his bravery, another man's family would have a very different history.

I also know that, had he not come to Canada, my own story would never have happened. 

In his house in Windsor, my Nonno always had a small Italian flag in his front room. Beside that flag, he had a Canadian flag. As proud as he was to be Italian, he was equally grateful that Canada took him in, a person who was an enemy just years earlier. That type of mercy is part of the reason I am here today.

That, to me, is Canada at its best. It's people doing their very best at a time when people are doing their very worst. 

Lest we forget.