A Bird in the Cage: A Glimpse of My Life

Abstract

The house where I spent the first fifteen years of my life fronted California Avenue, a busy thoroughfare on the city's North Side: four lanes of traffic, two trolley lines. It rould get hectic. We ~ played ball on California Avenue. Beyond the traffic, there was a sharp drop to a leveled space some fifteen feet below the street. A dozen train tracks sliced their way westward. You rould not see the trains, either from the street or from the serond story windows of our house. But their relentless presence was the most dominant aspect of daily life. This was before diesel engines. Everything was stearn. That means coal-powered. The air was filled with great plumes of grayish white srcoke and phosphorescent cinders that glowed in the night air. Passenger and freight trains hurried by, their whistles wailing throughout the day and all the night. Everywhere there was the crashing sound of cars being roupled and unroupled on the Hump. Great lines of cars, hundreds at a time-freight and oil, flatbeds and cattle--were strung together by the skilled workmen. TWenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, every day of every month you heard the sound of heavy metal.