Why Such a Narrow Time Frame?

After my “Autorack Woes and Assorted Time Issues” post, in which I mentioned that my layout models the seven days between July 11 and July 17, 1984, my friend Tom asked why my time frame was so narrow. And although I quickly answered him then, I felt it was worthy of a full post. Because I gotta write about something, right?

Honestly, it’s a valid question. Most people model a much wider, some as broad as “1940s to present,” others a specific decade, or a specific year. Few get as granular as I did. The late John Pryke, if I remember correctly, modeled a single day, running his schedule hundreds of times, like a railroad Groundhog Day, but that’s a real rarity.

So, you ask, what’s the answer already? Patience.

We often hear the phrase that someone is “trying to evoke a time and place” with their layout, and the same is true here. The place is Baltimore. The time, clearly, is summer 1984. I picked July for a couple of reasons.

• Chessie GM50—a GP40-2 built in 1972 for Chessie’s first order, painted gold and given its special number to commemorate 50 years of General Motors building diesel locomotives—was still in its gold scheme, but wouldn’t be for long as it would be painted into standard Chessie colors and renumbered to B&O 4164 later that year, I believe.
• The first of the Chessie SD50s were on the property. And even though I’m unlikely to model them at the moment, I’d like the option.

But for me, it goes beyond time and place. I’m also trying to evoke a feel. (This somehow sounds dirty. I assure you it is not.) Like many modelers, I guess, I’m trying to relive something long past. Let me give you some background.

In July 1984 I was 13 years old, soon to be 14. We didn’t have a lot of money, and thus no air conditioning, so summers were invariably hot, humid affairs. Where we lived (West Springfield, MA), was not urban, although houses were still relatively close to each other. That said, there were still some open lots, some tall, overgrown grassy areas (back when you didn’t need to worry so much about ticks), as well as some wooded patches. It was literally the picture we Gen X’ers hope people see in all those “remember when you could do what you wanted as long as you were home when the streetlights came on” Facebook posts.

When I think back to those summers, my mind goes immediately to bright sun, high temperatures, and muggy, almost stagnant air. The kind of heat that can last for days without relief and breaks only after a thunderstorm caused by a cold front rolls through. Days when afternoon meant the chirp of crickets, the sounds of birds, and the buzz of cicadas, with their rising and falling cadence. And though we didn’t live that close to the railroad then, somehow those days scream “trains” to me. It just feels right. And I want the layout to evoke that kind of day when I’m in the layout room.

So I switched to another of my favorite modeling activities: research. (More on that in subsequent posts.) It turns out that in July 1984, from the 11th to the 17th, Baltimore had a stretch of 90+ degree days with high humidity but not a single drop of rain. Perfect! Bonus points for being a seven day stretch so I could model a full week’s schedule, including the variety in daily train schedules.

And that, boys and girls, is why I model such a narrow time frame.

(It should be noted that I believe music is a huge piece of evoking a time, and it will play a part here, too, but that’s another topic for another day.)

Final thought: I know that the layout is unlikely to evoke the feel I’m after for anyone but myself (unless I crank the heat year-round). That’s okay. They can be entertained with the rest of it. I’ll know.