SO YOU WOULD LIKE TO BUILD A MODEL TRAIN LAYOUT….?

Most of us who belong to the male gender category, if we are honest with ourselves, will have to confess that we have always wanted to construct a model train layout.  There is just something about the allure of the rails and the temptation to build and construct something in which we can take pride that captivates us men.  So many of us seize the opportunity provided by having a little boy to construct one for him.  But, everyone knows, it is really for us. 

I admit that I fell in love with railroading when at age eight my father took me on a train ride from Springfield, Missouri (my home town) to Kansas City, MO.   The love affair has continued to this day and shows no sign of diminishing.  My first “layout” was setting up my O gauge Lionel set that my father bought me for my tenth birthday first in my living room, then at my grandparents’ upstairs den, and then, combining mine with my friend Roy’s, in my basement.  After my wife and I married and we had our own house, I began with HO, and I had some kind of a layout in every house in which we have lived through the years.  The current one is in our condo in an upstairs room that I had constructed from an unfinished attic storage space.

So why build one? No one can answer the question except that it becomes an itch that has to be scratched.  But my life has been devoted to critical analysis of propositions, so let me suggest a few:

1.       *The joy of planning.  We all enjoy thinking through, drawing up plans, putting scenarios together in our minds, and conceptualizing something that WE can accomplish.

2.       *The joy of building.  Why do we love building things?  It is in our DNA.  It is so exciting to see something beautiful take shape before our eyes, something we have done.

3.       *The joy of showing it off.  No comment needed.

4.       *The joy of operation.  Model trains work; they run; they move at our command.  Maybe it gives us an unholy sense of power, but it is great fun.

5.       *The joy of imagination.  We can see our little world and allow it to become real in our minds.

6.       *The joy of scheduling.  Because trains run, we can simulate real train operations, whether freight or passenger, by establishing schedules and running the trains accordingly. 

Then what are some key decisions that need to be made before construction?

1.       *Survey your space.  Model train layouts can be adapted to any space, small or large.  It just requires some imagination and creativity, and we all pride ourselves on having both.  Some people build on table tops or shelves.  Others have a space large enough for an oval or a dog-bone shape.  Basements or garages provide the most space in a house, mine is in an attic, and I have had them in bedrooms.  Just see what the space allows, and begin your plans.

2.      * Decide on your gauge.  O is too big unless you have an enormous space such as an empty warehouse or store; most houses can’t accommodate a viable O layout.  G gauge is for outdoor running and is fine if you have the yard space.  (G = Garden).  Z is very tiny and best for table-top operation.  Most model train enthusiasts choose N or HO.  You can model much more space with N such as running from city to city with plenty of country space in between.  HO is twice the size of N (and half the size of O) and is more realistic and easier to work with, but you will be twice as restricted in space.  I have used HO since 1960 and find it exactly what I want.  My eight towns may be a bit near to each other, but I compensate by making several loops before the next station.

3.      * Decide if you want a prototypical or mixed or hybrid layout.  With the hybrid layout you just pick out trains you like with no particular reference to the line or location, and you run them and have fun.  But many prefer to model a particular railroad that runs or ran in a particular location.  After I began taking tours to Europe, I decided that the Swiss really made the railroad the central form of transportation in their country, and I just found them beautiful.  Thus for many years, after starting with an eclectic, mixed European layout, I narrowed my focus to Swiss railroading.  Thus I have selected to model several cities in Switzerland.  I had a friend who modeled the old Clinchfield Railroad in East Tennessee, and another who created an environment based on what he observed as he traveled for his job, largely patterned on East Tennessee and involving CSX.

4.       *Along with deciding about prototype, if you are doing anything other than the mixed or hybrid form of model railroading, you need to decide on the era.  Most modelers like the 1950’s era because they can include both steam and diesel.  That was the time when steam was being phased out but was still around, and diesels were being phased in.   Some people prefer Civil War era so they can model the really old trains and many like a Western theme so they can do mountains and mining trains.  Others will prefer a modern theme.  I have failed to keep up with mine because most of my Swiss equipment reflects the 1980’s period, and it is still running well.  But if need be I can change and bring it up to the present.

5.       *You need to decide on the basic pattern of operation.  You can have a loop or dog-bone configuration in which trains will run around your layout.  In this way you can run them for a long time simulating longer distances.  They will always return to their point of origin.   However, you can design a point-to-point in which trains run from A to B but must then be able to return.  That arrangement requires either a push-pull operation in which you are backing up in one direction, a wye operation in which the train turns around, or a double-track at the end in which you can uncouple the locomotive and do a run-around.  Another possibility for reversal on a point-to-point, especially good for passenger operation, is to bring in a new locomotive that will couple to the end of the train and pull it out leaving the first locomotive in the station.  I used to have that operation at two of my stations in my previous layout, but I lack the space in my current one.  In my last three layouts, which have been my most extensive, I have had a combination of loop or dog-bone trackage and point-to-point.  That configuration provides me flexibility and variety in operation.

6.       *Another decision you should probably make would be how you want to power your trains.  The old method was to hook a power pack (called a transformer in the old Lionel days) to your track.  You then control the train movement by turning a handle that transmits six volts of electricity to your track.  Most people prefer some kind of remote control.  Aristocraft offers a remote controller that is linked to power packs.  With it you can control several trains.  Most modelers today use a cab control digital system (DCC) that uses a module installed in each locomotive.  Train operations are then programmed into your remote control device.  I prefer the Aristocraft system.  When you want to park a locomotive and operate another one, you can put it on a blocked track that has a plastic rail joiner installed that prevents the flow of the electricity into that section of track.  It can be powered by turning on a switch linked to that particular block.  If you power from overhead catenaries, such as you would find in Europe or on American east coast rail lines, you can simply drop the pantograph, and the locomotive has no power.  Some switches (turnouts) such as Pico will cut power when they are switched to a different track.  My last layout had trains operating from the overhead power, but this one is powered from the track even though I still have catenary.

That is probably enough cogitation before you actually do something, because by the time you make all these basic decisions, you are going to be itching to get on with the program.  The next step is to conceptualize the layout (a wonderful exercise for lying in bed, taking a shower, or driving to and from work), and it’s great fun.  The next step follows very quickly: you get some paper, pencil, ink, ruler, and eraser and go to work with drawing a diagram.  Don’t worry if you depart from it because you will make changes and adjustments, but you need to start somewhere, and you need a basic idea how you want to proceed.  Sometimes you can get ideas from other layouts. “Model Railroader” magazine has some good ones; I found mine there in a published layout that some modeler shared.  I made some adaptations but went with the basic design.  It calls for trains to go from the station up a ramp to an upper level and then back down to the station, thus making two loops before returning to its point of origin. 

Now that you have your plan, you have the first tangible element of your layout.  Congratulations!  Now you know you have really begun the construction of your very own railroad.  I would suggest at this juncture that you make a list of the materials you will need and begin to collect them.  The more you have in advance, the easier it will be once you start the actual construction.  At that point it is annoying to realize that you don’t have what you need and have to order it or make a trip to the hobby shop.  If it is your first layout you will need to think of materials for the bench work (train table or surface), track, switches, power packs and control devices, locomotives and rolling stock (to which you can always add), buildings, scenery materials, track nails, rail joiners, tools, and hook-up wire.  Of course, there is always more, but those things can come later.  Please don’t let my list seem to daunting to you. You don’t need to rush out and buy it all at once; just start collecting the things you will need.  For my current layout I really didn’t need too much that was new as I salvaged so much from my previous one.  I did buy professional catenary and operating signal lights, but the locomotives, rolling stock, and buildings I had from the earlier layout.  Of course, I had to buy all new scenery materials.  Let me say right now that doing the scenery is truly one of the most exciting and satisfying aspects of construction for me.

Once you have enough materials, and once you have your bench work in place, then you can start laying the track.  At this point your layout is taking shape, and you will not only have great fun but realize that it is really happening!  I suggest laying sheets of half-inch or ¾ inch Homosote on top of your bench work.  That will make the work so much easier, and the trains will run so much quieter.  Then buy some cork roadbed and lay it (nail it down) where you want your trains to run.  The cork roadbed further insulates the trains so they run even quieter, and it provides a realistic look.  Installing the track on top of the cork roadbed is great fun.  You will buy 3-foot sections and nail at the pre-drilled holes.  You will need to cut some of the track to make a proper fit which requires track-cutting shears.  Have a file so you can smooth the cut area.  Join tracks with rail joiners remembering to install plastic ones on one rail where you want to cut power to a block.

At this point you can wire the track and actually begin to run the trains.  It gets more and more enjoyable!  Install your buildings; you can always play with them, repositioning them until you have them just as you want them.  Then you can start the really artistic work of installing the scenery.  At this point your railroad will take on the appearance of being the real thing.  You need ballast for the track (which needs a glue mixture to keep it in place.  Start by wicking it with alcohol then dropping on white glue diluted with water.  Let it dry overnight).  Once track is installed, ballasted and buildings are in place, you can do whatever your heart desires.  You can create streets, forests, install grass, add people, cars…whatever your layout plans call for.  I even added tiny wildflowers.  There is no limit beyond your own, as I said, imagination and creativity!  

One example: I had a space shaped like a half-moon between two sections of curved track.  That space is near my main station at Zürich and at the corner of the layout, about the first thing a visitor would see in walking into the train room.  I wanted something really beautiful, so I designed a park.  I had a piece of “water” made from epoxy from the previous layout.   It had a man standing waist-deep in the water fishing.  I incorporated the lake, designed walkways, flower gardens, and bought some really beautiful trees, put in people strolling along the walk and flowers along the side.  I designed a flower bed shaped like a clock such as is often seen in Switzerland.  I added picnic tables, a man working in the flowers…all kinds of activity.  It is enjoyable just to look at it as it turned out so well.  You can do the same kind of designing which will bring you much enjoyment and satisfaction.

The more attention you give to detail, the better.  You will be glad later.  And do not get in a hurry.  So much of the joy is in the building stage, and you will not regret careful and meticulous construction.  Take it from me.  My previous layout was assembled hastily so I could begin running trains and then modified later.  Taking the advice of a good friend, I took my time with this one, and I am much more satisfied with it.

Your hobby shop, “Model Railroader”, and others who have layouts can all become sources of information.  What I have written here is just to entice you and encourage you to plan a layout.  “Model Railroader” publishes some very useful DVDs that provide all kinds of specific, helpful information.  Please feel free to contact me if I can be of any help.  Your layout should be what YOU want it to be; what you will enjoy.  It is your world over which you reign as supreme.  Enjoy the journey.  Don’t let the frustrations of inevitable problems discourage you.  Every problem has its solution!  And the layout doesn’t go anywhere.  You can leave off work on it for a while, and it will be waiting for you.    

Layout room finished, bench work ready

Buildings being positioned, trying to decide where cities would be

Attic space before construction on room started

Main Zürich station complete except for ballast and scenery

Catenary is by Viessmann.  Zürich station with city buildings, control tower

Zürich station.  Scenery in.  Note street with streetcar tracks, old city gate, cathedral

Trains at platform.  Train in foreground goes from Zürich up ramp to Chur on upper level

Streetcars crossing at St. Gallen. Yellow car entering tunnel, red emerging.  

Streetcars and main street at St. Gallen

Streetcars on one of two streets in Zürich

Chur

Tracks leaving Zürich.  Note old city wall and gate at left.

Three tracks from Bern converging with three tracks from Zug before entering tunnel

Corner view.  Mountains of Zermatt with N-scale buildings not yet installed

Train on track 4 at Zürich

Trains at St. Gallen

Zürich station

Chur on upper level

San Moritz on upper level

St. Gallen

Appenzell

Bern

Zermatt on upper level

Zug

Train on track 2 at Zürich station

THE INCREDIBLE MIS-ADVENTURES OF MY FIRST EUROPEAN TRIP

It has been forty years now!

It was going to be a book, but I’ll settle for a blog

The idea for a trip to Europe was born in my graduate studies.  My professors had visited most of the sites on which they lectured, and they punctuated their class lectures with personal perspectives and pictures.  My sister made a trip to Europe and the Holy Land, and then she and my mother toured Europe.  I began to wish for the opportunity.  And as I was majoring in European history, it made sense.  Then one of my professors made this comment which I never forgot: “Sometimes you just have to make things happen.”  So I began to plot for a way to make it happen for David Lawrence to go to Europe.

After receiving my master’s degree, I was able to obtain a teaching position at Wichita Collegiate School, a college preparatory school in Wichita, Kansas.  The year was 1971.  I was assigned a seventh grade class in ancient history.  As we covered Greece and Rome, I made the comment that it would be great if we could go there.  One of the students spoke up and said, “Why don’t we do it?”  I responded that I didn’t see why we couldn’t….”make it happen.”  The students suggested that we do it in two years when they would be in the ninth grade.  I agreed.  The deal was made.  Europe in the summer of 1974!

In the meantime I began to try to figure out how to organize such a trip.  One of my colleagues, Harold Kruger, head of the foreign language department, had sponsored a trip a few years earlier.  This program had lasted six weeks and been coordinated through an organization known as the Foreign Study League.  Harold described how he had done it and gave me great encouragement.  He told me he would put me in contact with a gentleman with whom he had worked, a German teacher at North High School in Wichita by the name of Dieter Daub.  Dieter was a native German, once having served in the Air Force of the Third Reich, and was now an American citizen.  Dieter came to my home to help me plan a five-week program that would include Spain, France, Italy, Greece, Austria, and England.  He took me to Chicago to meet the personnel of FSL and to undergo a training session.  It was intense planning and preparation for two years, but by the school year of 1973-74 we seemed ready to go.

For each six places I sold I would receive one free spot for a sponsor.  Actually, we had some difficulty finding enough teachers at Collegiate who were willing to go.  After all, we were all rookies, and no one knew what to expect.  Finally Diane Rauh, head of the English department and dean of girls; teachers Nell Capron and Sistie Bender, and a young man from our church, Bill Wright, formed the faculty along with me.  

When we left the Wichita airport, I could sense the apprehension both among our sponsors and the families who said goodbye.  Everyone knew that we were all totally inexperienced.  We had with us a few students who had been to Europe before on trips, but a very few.  It was going to be a learning experience for all of us, and what a learning experience it was.

Chicago

The first mis-adventure occurred in Chicago.  We flew there to meet students from all over the country who were converging to board the flight from Chicago to (eventually) Madrid.  Back then we flew charter planes.  I remember it was Capitol Airlines, and, as I found out, they made their own schedules. 

We were told that we would depart at a certain time in the afternoon.  I noticed that it was several hours before that time, and many of us had not seen Chicago.  Being a train lover, I saw a chance to ride the famous El train into town.  So off we went, believing that we had plenty of time to see the downtown area of Chicago and then return to the airport to board our flight. 

Unknown to us, the airline had clearance to depart earlier.  As this large group of several hundred high school students and their sponsors assembled to board the plane, Diane, who had stayed behind, called to the attention of the airline personnel that several of the sponsors of her group were missing.  Only with much insistence did she stall them until we returned, embarrassed and humiliated that we had delayed what could have been an earlier departure.

Bangor, Maine

The aircraft used by Capitol Airlines was unable to carry enough fuel to cross the Atlantic; thus we stopped for refueling at Bangor, Maine.  It was there that we were told that there was a problem with the gyroscope.  Mechanics labored for several hours to repair it, and finally we were told that they were unable to do so; therefore, we would need to wait for the next plane coming in from Europe and board it in order to continue our journey.  I have never figured out if it came in empty or, if not, what happened to the passengers.  Maybe they could have returned to Chicago without a gyroscope, but we were informed that we would not want to cross the ocean without an operable one.  I took their word for it, as I did not want my first Atlantic crossing to be a memorable one for the wrong reasons.

The result was we waited for many hours in an airport hangar in Bangor.  I am not sure if this was the city airport or a military installation, but I suspect the latter.  We were given clam chowder that I assume was fresh and local.  Eventually the plane from Europe arrived, and we departed, many hours off schedule.  I admit to wondering if the aircraft had been properly inspected and serviced before setting out again across the Atlantic, but I prayed and closed my mind to unpleasant possibilities and tried to focus on the exciting prospect of seeing Europe for the first time.

Madrid

It has been exactly forty years, but the view of the plane coming into Madrid and my first sight of the European continent is still quite fresh in my memory.  I recall the red color of the soil and the fields plowed in a circular pattern.  We landed and stopped on the tarmac, and we were then bused to the terminal building.  I can recall the nice hotel and the enjoyment of the sights: the royal palace, the Plaza Mayor, the Atocha railroad station, the rastro (flea market), and my first experience on a subway.  Within hours Madrid was home.  We settled in to tours, classes, and wandering about on free time.  The hotel served the meals, and we could come when we wanted within designated hours and be served.  We soon learned that Spaniards eat much later than we Americans.  I enjoyed my first experience with Sangria. The waiters were young people who played soccer with our kids.  All went well, and our students were amazingly well behaved. 

 During our week in Madrid we attended classes and took field trips, some of which we out of the city.  We visited The Valley of the Fallen, Toledo, and a bull-fighting arena called the Campera with small but live bulls.  The guide on that trip demanded that I enter the ring and do the cape thing in front of the bull.   I did so quite reluctantly, and after a few successful passes, the bull knocked me down in a most unceremonious fashion.  My dignity was hurt more than my body.

During the classes we were told about the government in Spain which was at the time still under the Fascist dictator Francesco Franco.  The teacher stressed that due to the strict enforcement of law, there was virtually no crime, and that our young students were safe in the streets even late at night.  However, she said that police were everywhere listening to everything people said, and if they heard a criticism of the government there would be someone near to “tap you on the shoulder.”

One of our eighth grade students, knowing that Fascists are particularly opposed to Communists, as was explained when we visited the Alcazar in Toledo and were told about the Spanish Civil War, decided he would test what the teacher said.  He went to the window of his room, opened it, and yelled “Hail, Castro!” at the top of his voice.  Immediately police appeared from all directions with their guns pointed toward the window of the hotel.  The student flew across the hall and under a bed for refuge.

 At the end of the week-long stay, we took some of the discretionary funds the company had assigned to me and bought some flowers for the hotel manager to express to him our gratitude for the hotel staff being such gracious hosts.  We thought everything had just been great.  The students had acted so maturely and responsibly, and the hotel was just wonderful for our introductory city of the trip.  Well, it was great until, just after we had presented the flowers, I was made aware of a fracas in the area where our students were staying.  It seems some of the students decided to have a pillow fight.  This little game involved invading rooms, chasing other students down the hall, waiting for them to come in or out of rooms and then whacking them over the head with a pillow…you know how it goes.  It was getting rather wild and loud.

The hotel maids tried to intervene and tell the students that they could not do that.  A maid then walked into a room to see what was going on, and a student was perched on a chair with his pillow, and thinking it was a student coming in the door, brought down his pillow on the head of the maid.  She grabbed the student and began to drag him down the hall as he shrieked, “You can’t arrest me; I’m an American citizen!”  What a way to end our pleasant stay in Madrid.

The Long Four-Day Bus Ride to Florence

Florence was the next campus city on our itinerary, and the company provided us transportation in the form of an endurance exercise by bus as we journeyed from Madrid to Barcelona, then to Montpelier, thence to Cannes and finally, Florence.  Barcelona was uneventful.  I remember my roommate, Bill, and I sitting on the balcony of our room sipping water and watching the activity on the esplanade below.  Bill was an excellent sponsor for his seventh grade group.  I was delighted with how responsibly he handled his assignments, given that he was only twenty at the time.  However, there were two things I came to understand about Bill during the four-day trek.  First, he fell asleep anytime he was in a moving vehicle, meaning that he got four days’ sleep on the way to Florence.  The other was that, as he did not know any foreign language, he had to try to learn the key phrases in the different languages.  But he was always one country behind.  On the four-day trip we passed from Spain through Catalan-speaking territory, through France, and into Italy.  When we arrived in France, Bill learned to say Buenos Dias and Gracias to the French.  When we were in Italy, he was saying Bonjour and Merci to the Italians.  I can’t remember if the Austrians heard Buon Giorno and Grazie or not.

I don’t remember Montpelier giving us any trouble, but such was not the case in Cannes.  We stayed in a college dormitory which was large and very bright inside. I remember thinking what a beautiful facility the students had.  The young French lady who accompanied us on this part of the journey through her country did not bother to give us the name of the college.  Why do that?  It was just an overnight stay.

The students scrambled to find their rooms, and I located mine.  Then some of the students came and found me with the request that I accompany them to see the bathroom facilities.  So I went along.  They opened a door, and I saw a big room filled with numerous shower stalls.  No problem with that.  Then they took me to the next room, opened the door, and I saw a long line of wash basins.  I was beginning to understand why this tour.  As they approached the next door, one of them said, “You won’t believe this!”  They opened it to reveal a room filled with Turkish toilets.  If you are not familiar with them, they resemble shower stalls in that there is no toilet fixture.  There are two designated places to stand.  One does his business and then pulls a cord that inundates the whole stall.  If you don’t move quickly after pulling the cord, you are likely to get your feet wet.  That night one of the seventh grade students approached me and meekly reported that he needed to go and do what one normally does when he sits down, but he was unwilling to use the Turkish toilet.  I laughed and told him to just experience the cultural difference.  “No, Mr. Lawrence,” he said, “I am going to go out and look until I find a real toilet!”  I didn’t hear any more from him; so I suppose he found one.

Finally, off to bed.  Then in the middle of the night I was aroused by knocking on my door.  I got up and was greeted by some girls who said that Mrs. Scheer and one of the female students, Renee, had not returned.  It seems that they had decided to go to the beach for a swim.  It was no problem walking down the hill to the beach from our dormitory, but then the problem arose in remembering how to get back to it.  Well, obviously they had become lost.  So Bill and I went out into the deserted streets of Cannes in the wee hours of the morning.  I headed for a building marked Gendarmerie where I saw lights.  Trying to get awake enough to speak coherent French, I described to the officer on duty that two of the members of our group, one an adult and the other a student, were lost.  He kindly informed me that they were a military unit, and I would need to speak to the police, and he instructed me on how to find the station.  Bill and I went off to the police station.  I informed the police officer of the situation and he asked me if the girl had long hair, and I said she did.  And he asked me if the lady wore earrings, and I said that she did.  He told me they had come there earlier, but they didn’t know the name of the college.  He suggested she call a cab and ask the driver to take her to all the college dormitories in Cannes until she recognized ours.  She was reluctant to do that, and an American lady who happened to be in the station for some reason, had offered to take them home with her for the night.  She consented, the police officer said, and they had gone.  I thanked him, and Bill and I walked out of the station.  As we were going down the street, he came running out after us and said that they had just received a call from the American lady that Mrs. Scheer had decided to call the cab, knowing we would all be worried about them, and that they were now safely back at the school.  We thanked them, and Bill and I returned to try to salvage the night and get some sleep before resuming the bus trip the next day.

When we entered Italy, the young French courier turned us over to our assistant principal for Italy, an intelligent but quite brusque English art teacher named Kathleen Nottridge. She gave us thorough instructions on all kinds of information that we would need in Italy and prepared us well for Florence.  I remember as we came into the city, she sighed, “Ah, Florence, my spiritual home!”  She had also expressly instructed us that we should never let any of our possessions out of our sight at any time.  I recall how she chided me when I left my sword that I bought at the sword factory in Toledo in the hotel lobby for a minute.  “Dear boy,” she said, “Didn’t I expressly tell you not to leave anything unattended?”  I admit to feeling a bit humiliated.  After all, I was a teacher and head of the group; but she was Kathleen Nottridge and also about thirty years older than I. However, at this point in my life, forty years later, I would not at all be insulted if someone called me “dear boy.”

Rome

Ms. Nottridge accompanied us on to Rome.  Having studied Roman history and teaching Roman history, I was excited beyond measure on the prospects of seeing the ancient Imperial capital.  Our first night in Rome included a visit to the Villa d’Este at Tivoli.  As we strolled through the impressive and often grotesque fountains in the gardens, I was made aware that one of our students was in distress.  It seems that Rusty, the young man who had threatened against his apprehension in Madrid by claiming that he was an American citizen, had wrenched his knee climbing around on the hills at night.  Rusty had back surgery before the trip, and he had told his surgeon that he was also having trouble with his knee, but the doctor dismissed it as less important than the back surgery and told him that knee surgery would mean that he couldn’t make the trip.  Rusty was in great pain, and Ms. Nottridge oversaw the operations of transporting him to the Ospedale de Spirito Sancto which, she explained, was a hospital for foreigners.  We weren’t quite used to the fact that we were the foreigners.

After bring in the hospital for a couple of days, the doctors in Rome determined that he could not go on with the program and would need to return to Wichita for surgery on his knee.  I left Rusty in tears as the preparations were being made for his return.  In the meantime, I had missed the field trip to Rome, so I knew it would be up to me to see this city for the first time.  Ms. Nottridge was occupied with helping arrange for Rusty’s return, so I asked some employees of the Foreign Study League if they would drop me off downtown.  I had a map of Rome, and with that I found my way to and through the Roman Forum and the streets of Rome to the Pantheon.  It was a delightful orientation to Rome and truly a discovery quite on my own, as I had no one to explain the sites to me.  I had spent enough time in my graduate classes in Wichita State University under an excellent professor of Roman history that I was able to recognize the landmarks like Trajan’s column and emporium, the Senate building, the Arch of Titus and the arches of Septimius Severus and Constantine, the Tabularium, and other landmarks.  I remember walking past the Victor Emmanuel Monument and through the Piazza Venezia on my way to the Pantheon.  After my wife began traveling with me, Rome became our favorite city.  We were able to spend several weeks there during a month long study in Italy in 1991.

Athens

Our program called for us to fly from Rome to Athens for a four-day campus there and then to return to Rome.  Athens was a magical experience and involved a field trip to Corinth, Epidauros, and Mycene and also a short cruise to the Greek islands of Hydra, Poros, and Aegina.  My same WSU professor under whom I had studied Roman history also taught me Greek history quite well, and so it all came to life in my sight.

Athens was without any hiccups, as I recall, except for what happened on the roof top of the hotel.  The facility was located downtown close to Omonia Square.  We had a few complaints about the place being dirty and the personnel rather grumpy.  But at the time Greece was under a military dictatorship, and so I imagine most people were a little on edge.  The up-side of the dictatorship was the fact that they had zero crime, so our students were safe anywhere at any time in Greece. 

We were told that we would take our breakfasts on the rooftop which I found quite fascinating.  However, Bill Wright and some of the students discovered that on the other side of the wall around the roof-top café actually was the roof of the adjoining building; however, one could not see that roof from the hotel.  Thus to have a bit of fun, Bill jumped over the wall, crouched down on the adjacent roof, and acted as if he were hanging on for dear life dangling six stories above a busy Athens street.  Diane Rauh turned white, shrieked, and came totally unglued.  Suffice it to say that she did not think Bill’s little joke was very funny.

When it came time to fly back to Rome our group was split into two parts, as it was when we flew over.  I recall that my division of the group flew on Olympic Airlines, and I think the other part of the group had a charter flight.  My half of the group left without incident, and it was only after the other group rejoined us in Rome that we heard their harrowing tale.  It seems that just after we left the war in Cyprus between the Greeks and Turks broke out, and the government ordered that the airport be closed for security purposes.    Our group’s charter flight somehow was able to leave, apparently the last flight before the airport closed.  Perhaps someone with the charter company was able to persuade the airport authorities.  I won’t speculate how.

Our First European Train Ride

We completed our campus stay in Rome without further incident, as I recall.  Ms. Nottridge did find time to give me a personal tour of Rome including the Baths of Diocletian.  I think we were there because the train station (Termini, for baths) is adjacent.  I had no idea about European train travel.  Ms. Nottridge did caution me not to let students hang out the windows because the trains pass very close at high speed.  She handed me the master ticket and told me that certain seats in our car were available for our group to occupy to Florence, and after that the seats were reserved as the train moved on toward Austria and Germany.  I went to the compartments where these reserved seats were located and instructed the students there about the situation.  I recall as I handed the master ticket to the conductor that he commented that we would be getting off at Rosenheim.  I commented to him that the ticket said Innsbruck, and that was our destination.  However, my communication skills in Italian were nil at that point, and I determined that by the next time I returned to Europe, I would have learned Italian!

Having done all I thought I should do, I retired to my compartment which I shared with Bill and was soon off to sleep.  In the middle of the night I was awakened by some banging on the door (shades of Cannes!).  I quickly dressed and went out in the corridor to witness major controversy.  It seems that the students did leave the reserved compartments, but some of our adult students and sponsors had moved into them.  Of course, the seats had by then been made out as beds, and these ladies had undressed and gone to sleep.  The people who had reserved the compartments boarded at Florence, and were quite irate that they could not get in them.  I could hear one Italian man yelling “Policia,” and that is a word I had no difficulty understanding.  The ladies refused to open the compartment doors as they were in their nightwear, and so the porter used his key to reveal them crouching in horror and pulling the covers up around them.

Eventually they moved, and we had to go through the car looking for empty areas that were indeed reserved for us.  In one compartment, two of the places were reserved for the Florence-boarding passengers and the other four spaces for our group.  I noticed that four seventh grade girls were rather startled when an Italian couple got in, and the man began to pull off his pants in front of them.  Given that his wife was with him and the girls assured me they were all right, I considered that we had just witnessed a cultural difference in habit.

But the experience was not over.  Everyone settled in for the rest of the night.  I awakened early and went down the corridor to the rest room.  The train had stopped, and as I looked out of the window, I realized that we were in Innsbruck.  I went for the conductor who was still insisting that we needed to get off at Rosenheim.  I ran back to our compartment and alerted Bill, and the two of us ran through the car yelling to the group to get out immediately.  Ms. Nottridge had warned me that stops at stations were not very long and that in case of emergency bags could be passed through the windows.  We stationed some of the boys outside the windows and had the girls pass the luggage down to them.  The man in the compartment with the girls tried to help them, and their bags tumbled down on him and his wife, causing considerable protestations on his part.   But we did manage to get everyone and all the bags off the train before it pulled out of the station.  Our resident principal for Austria told me that it was a good thing we did because Rosenheim was 100 miles from Innsbruck.

Steinach im Tyrol

Our four-day stop in Austria was designed to be a relaxing time at the mid-point of the five-week study program.  Students had been attending classes and exposed to much educational information, so for these four days they could just enjoy the cool weather and the beautiful Alps.  Some of them actually went mountain-climbing.  I am glad I didn’t witness it, given the stories I heard.

Our group was divided into six smaller units and boarded with Austrians in their homes.  This arrangement gave them an intimate experience with Austrian people and their way of life.  I think I had six boys with me, and we were assigned to an older lady named Frau Rosa.  She spoke not a word of English, and my German was now given its first work-out.  I don’t think I ever found out how Bill did; I hope he was not trying out what Italian he had learned.  But Bill, being quite outgoing, never had a problem communicating, using pointing and repetition of English or whatever language phrases he could find to use.

Frau Rosa obviously ran a tight ship.  We had been told that no one could take a bath there, but that given the cool mountain weather, it really wasn’t necessary.  I remember asking her if one of the students, Matt, could wash his hair and being told that he could not.  Drinking water and die Kloset was it.  One of the boys dropped a glass and broke it, and I was concerned that we might get reprimanded.  I reported it to Frau Rosa, and she thanked me and let the matter go.  I spent some of my free time writing my wife, and she would stop and take note of my “Liebesschrifte”.  On one occasion she asked me to have the students fill out a Zittle, a piece of paper with their names and addresses on it.  I could tell she was quite organized, and all of us were a little afraid of her.

John, the eighth grade student who cried out “Hail, Castro” from the hotel window in Madrid, had permission to leave Rome and visit some of his relatives in north Italy.  He rejoined the group in Steinach, and with the help of a young lady who worked for FSL, we moved a bed into our dorm room for John.  At the end of the time, when we were getting ready for moving on to Paris, she told me that we would need to move the bed back to the sitting room where we obtained it.  In the process the bed scraped on the linoleum floor and raked up a V-shaped piece of it that resembled an accordion.  I think there must have been a sharp piece of something on one of the legs.  The young lady and I were horrified, and she commented on how angry Frau Rosa would be.   This time we did not report it to her; for one reason, the group was ready to leave.  However, I made sure I reported it to the FSL office in Steinach.  The man in charge told me he would take care of it.

However, when we arrived in Paris, we were notified that the student who damaged the floor in Austria would need to pay for it, and it was quite a tidy sum.  We explained that we had cleared it and that no student had done it, but the young lady and I as we moved the bed back to its original location.  It was an accident that occurred in the course of our doing our duties, so I thought the League should take care of it.  The incident didn’t end there, as we were confronted with it in England, and even told that we could not leave London for the USA until the matter was resolved.  Well, we did leave, so I assume that the FSL insurance or something of the sort took care of the problem and pacified Frau Rosa.

Paris

My memory tells me that we had some small incidents in Paris, enough that we gained the feeling that Paris was a laid-back city where things did not go with quite the orderliness as in the Germanic lands.  However, I do not recall a major incident…except some very loud people in the room next to Bill and me.  Bill was anything but timid, so he stood in the corridor and pounded on the door and told the occupants in no uncertain terms to shut up.  

Through the years we came to joke that if anything was going to go wrong, it would be in Paris.  Yet other than recalling that accommodations and food were not the best and the noisy night in our hotel, no other single event stands out.  I remember my fascination with the Paris Metro system and the wonder of this City of Lights.

London

Our last five-day campus was in London.  Here I remember everyone was assigned an individual room.  Our rooms throughout the trip were either in college dormitories or religious houses, and it seems to be the custom in England that students live alone.  Our students didn’t complain about the isolation, but did seem joyous that they were in a country that spoke English, even if it was slightly different than our American form of the language.

The only strange event occurred on our field trip to Stonehenge, Salisbury and Winchester Cathedrals.  It had been an enjoyable day.  We had a couple of young Englishmen accompanying us, one as the coach driver and the other as a courier for the group.  It was very late at night, and they stopped at a pub on the way back to London.  Without telling us that they would be a while, they left us to sit on the coach while, I assume, they downed a pint or did some partying.  I was aware that it was well past midnight  something…and, of course, he did.  He went into the pub and in very short order emerged with the two English guys in tow and looking very sheepish.

Back to Chicago

The last incident occurred when our charter Capitol Airlines plane landed in Chicago.  Six of us, five of the male students and I, had purchased decorative swords at the factory in Toledo, Spain, where the swords were made in Medieval times and used by the knights in shining armor.  They were our treasures, souvenirs par excellence of our trip.  When we checked our bags in London, they had us simply put the swords on the belt, so when they came off, they slid down the ramp and hit the ground, damaging the points and bending the shaft of the swords.  Students deplaning watched this process in horror, and one student to whom I shall always be grateful, grabbed my sword and carried it down in his hand.  Mine was the only one not damaged, and it as hung proudly in three homes since.  Today it adorns my upstairs office.

There is probably more that I have forgotten over the ensuing forty years.  I returned home to my wife and two boys.  I remember trying out my English accent on my younger son who was annoyed with it.  He did like the little double-deck London bus I had bought.  My wife said, “Well, I guess you have got that out of your system,” and then about three weeks later, after I had rested up, I informed her that we were planning another trip in two years.  That time she went with me and has gone ever since.  We organized other Collegiate study trips in 1976, 1978, 1982, 1983, 1985, and 1986.   Then in 1986 I obtained a position on the faculty of Lipscomb University in Nashville, and we organized programs for college students and whoever adults wanted to join us in 1988, 1990, 1992, 1993, 1995, 1996, 1997, 1998, and 2002.  Alice and I spent our month in Italy and south France alone in 1991, and we went along as sponsors and teacher on the Lipscomb in Vienna semester in 1999, 2005, 2007, and 2010, and on the Lipscomb 2-month program in London in 2001.  We have also traveled on our own many times with group tours.  So what began with a series of incredible misadventures led to forty years of European travel!  And we are very grateful for the opportunity.