Regarding Henry

Two weeks ago my wife and I headed for Florida to take our daughter to college. As if 863 miles of driving weren’t enough, we got to travel through tropical storm Fay. After moving Anna into the dorm, we headed north just in time to navigate through Fay again. Ah, the women in my life ….

This blog isn’t really about a Fay, however, but a Flagler. Henry Morrison Flagler. American entrepreneur. Partner with John D. Rockefeller in Standard Oil. Perhaps the most important figure in the development of Florida’s east coast for tourism. Owner of the Florida East Coast Railway which, in an amazing feat of railroad engineering, he extended all the way to Key West.

In Florida you find Flagler’s name everywhere: schools, streets, buildings, museums, hospitals, even a county and a beach. The main address for our daughter’s school is 901 S. Flagler Dr., which her dorm room overlooks. With her roommate she has already gone “hot-tubbing” nearby at The Breakers, the renowned beachfront hotel the man built at Palm Beach in 1896.

(When I tell Anna how proud I am that she picked a school with a railroad man’s name in the address, she just rolls her eyes.)

It’s no wonder Floridians toast Henry Flagler’s name. He built resort hotels and provided the means for northern tourists to reach them. He constructed roads, bridges, canals, public utilities and newspapers. He encouraged fruit farming and settlement along the railway line. His gifts helped build schools, churches and hospitals.

Even after a hurricane put the “over-the-seas” railroad out of business in 1935, Its bridges and roadbed became the foundation for car and truck traffic through the Keys.

Driving back toward Virginia, I thought about Henry Flagler (when the weather didn’t demand my full interest). I also thought about Roanoke. Florida before Flagler and Big Lick before the N&W were similar: largely unknown, undeveloped, and unappreciated. (Miami wasn’t even incorporated until Henry got his hand on it.)

And I thought about the differences today in the two areas’ attitudes. In Florida, Flagler is celebrated ubiquitously. In Roanoke, the railroad heritage is seen by so many as a quaint and insignificant factor, a historical footnote with little relevance for the present.

When the news broke several months ago of VMT’s financial troubles, much of the public reaction was not “We must do something” but “They ought to do something” or—worse—“Who cares whether they do anything.”

The Roanoke Times’ coverage epitomized the view that museum leadership needs to get its act together before expecting anyone else to lend a hand. Largely ignored in articles and editorials were courageous efforts VMT personnel already had put forth or the significant extenuating circumstances. And little was said of the need for the community as a whole to own this rail heritage as a core part of our identity.

Public and private donors will give tens of millions of dollars to build and promote an art museum that, regardless of its real or imagined benefits, is still a generic attraction that would seem as much at home in dozens of other cities. On the other hand, much of our community seems unconcerned about an organization which preserves and interprets Roanoke’s historic legacy and which is intrinsically linked to a group of other attractions (Norfolk Southern operations, the East End Shops, Hotel Roanoke, the O. Winston Link Museum, the Rail Walk, restored N&W buildings, etc.)

No community can live in the past. Few places thrive, however, when they ignore it.

Someone recently wrote to criticize VMT’s apparent lack of interest in salvaging the remaining Virginia Scrap Iron & Metal yard locomotives. The comments reminded me that even some of the wonderful people who do care about the museum’s future are unaware of how difficult our situation remains. Saving those locos is a wonderful goal and we appreciate so much those who leading the charge. It’s hard for us to raise money ourselves for new acquisitions, however, when we are struggling to meet an operating budget that has been cut to the bone.

Citizens of this region have a choice. We can own and celebrate our rich transportation heritage or we can treat it with apathy and neglect. Florida and Henry Flagler show us which path is the wise one.
_____________________

A footnote: I collect songs about trains. I recommend three songs for you who like music and are interested in Flagler’s achievements. Last Train to Paradise by Chris Foster and Oh Henry! by Chris Kahl cover the building of the FEC Railway across the Florida Keys, and Hurricane by Steve Gillette and Cindy Mangsen describes the railroad’s destruction by the category five Labor Day hurricane of 1935. All three songs are available at various download sites.

Rails that Divide, Bridges that Connect

Railroad tracks unite.

And they divide.

The rails that spread like kudzu across the vast west following the War Between the States enabled the U.S. to grow faster and farther than anyone would have thought possible a couple decades earlier. The pounding of a golden spike at Promontory, Utah in 1869 was both a literal and symbolic uniting of America. Tracks continued to multiply in the last half of the 19th century, creating arteries and veins that provided the life blood of the towns and industries connected to them.

The railroad also divided. In its earlier years, the division was primarily cultural and political. Many Americans feared and loathed these danger-carrying, noise-screaming, smoke-spewing beasts. Few viewed trains through the rosy lenses of nostalgia as so many of us do today. The strange, newfangled trains and their owners, seen as greedy and rapacious devourers of land and resources, were usually detested.

The rails divided in other ways. They bisected towns and prairies, in many cases dictating where and how commerce would take root and people would settle. Often unintentionally, rail and crosstie became a steel and wood line of demarcation separating prosperity from failure and status from ignominy.

As a child, I remember hearing often that phrase, “the other side,” or “the wrong side” of the tracks,” meaning the poorer, seedier and more dangerous section of town. Sometimes I wondered why the less desirable neighborhoods were always the “other” side from where anyone I knew lived. Most of the time I just accepted it as an immutable fact of life.

Sadly, that other side was usually disproportionately African-American. Even after the end of slavery, blacks in both north and south were robbed of equal housing and job opportunities. In Roanoke and in many other places, minorities lived on the “wrong side” of the tracks.

That’s one more reason all Roanokers should rejoice in the re-opening of the aptly renamed Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial Bridge. It spans rows of tracks and links the Gaineboro area with downtown literally and symbolically.

Does anyone feel more pleasure in that connecting walkway than those whose reminiscences are the heart of the Museum exhibit, African American Heritage on the Norfolk and Western Railway, 1930-1970? When I watch the video and read the signs in that display, I am equally impressed by two things: the level of injustice these N&W workers endured and the courage and dignity with which they served.

I am also struck by how different today’s landscape looks. In recent decades, railroad corporations such as Norfolk Southern have gone to great effort to lay new tracks of opportunity and fairness. For that we should salute them, Dr. King and railroaders like the ones depicted here.

Railroad tracks can divide. They can also unite, especially when people are willing to build bridges.

Keeping the Faith

Keeping Secrets and Keeping the Faith
March 10, 2008

The secret is finally out.

The Virginia Museum of Transportation is in trouble. Deep trouble. Museum Management Consultants says so. The newspaper says they say so. The newspaper’s editorial writers say that is so, so troubling.

So?

The press and public comments last week were unfairly harsh. Yes, mistakes have been made and accountability is critical whenever you ask to spend other people’s dough. Given the extenuating circumstances and the dedicated efforts of current staff, however, a little less invective and a little more perspective would have been nice.

Ultimately the press coverage may serve as a blessing by raising public awareness, but it also highlighted a number of myths floating around.

Myth #1: There was a secret. Nobody has tried to keep this information hush-hush. The city commissioned the study. Norfolk Southern Foundation paid for it. VMT welcomed it. Visitors who know the place could see and sense it. It was a secret only to those who have remained out of touch with the place.

Myth #2: VMT’s problems are primarily due to bad management. What happens to any organization when it loses 48% of its budget support? Has to reduce staff to the bone (and remove a few ribs as well)? Changes leadership repeatedly? Has its ability to do marketing and outreach crippled?

Myth #3: The Museum appeals to a very limited audience. Is it just for tiny tots and old railroaders? Is it only a blue-collar museum (as though blue-collar folks aren’t important or can’t appreciate aesthetics)?

Actually, attractions like VMT appeal to a broad cross-section of the population. We Americans like “earthy” history exhibits. We especially like seeing and feeling and smelling the metal, wood and leather of things on wheels. And we love trains, even decades after American railroads passed their zenith.

Myth #4: The Museum decided to sell the Nickel Plate steam locomotive to pay bills. They reluctantly agreed to sell only after they were approached by another tourist organization and after they concluded that this loco, which never ran in Virginia, had little relevance to the mission of VMT.

And due to extraordinary circumstances, on this rare occasion the funds from such a sale were used for operations rather than acquisitions. Frankly, I would rather have an open facility with one less exhibit than a bankrupt and closed attraction with its exhibits intact.

Myth #5: VMT is just another museum—nice but not critical to Roanoke. I wish the reactions of media and public officials had been a little more “we” and less “they.” After all, there is no cultural attraction in Roanoke with the same intrinsic connections to the city as VMT. I appreciate Mill Mountain Theatre, the Roanoke Symphony, the Art and Science Museums. However, none of them relates to Roanoke and southwest Virginia the way those historic exhibits in that historic freight station do.

VMT carries the soul of Roanoke. The railroad transformed a bucolic village into a regional urban center. It put Roanoke on the map. Even now the rush and roar of trains bisect the heart of downtown. I have a stack of books on American railroading piled on my den table right now. In every one of them Roanoke’s growth and accomplishments via the railroad get significant attention.

No one did steam railroading as impressively for as long as the Norfolk and Western. No other railroad built its own locomotives and built them so well that they are still considered among the best ever manufactured more than a half-century later.

Vintage cars and buggies aside, that’s why VMT exists. That’s why the Winston Link Museum came here. Those two, the multi-million dollar Railwalk that connects them, and the continued imposing presence of N&W’s successor are integrated threads of a rich and unique tapestry.

Myth #6: VMT shouldn’t look to donors to rescue it from distress. Why not? It is a wonderful treasure worth saving. However financially successful it may become in the future, current circumstances require big hearts from both government and private parties.

The Museum of Transportation isn’t asking for a marvelous new building, just an adequately-maintained vintage facility. It doesn’t need a $3 million-plus operating budget, just sufficient funding to once again employ an adequate number of professional staff and effectively manage and market its product. It isn’t asking for millions to purchase new exhibits, just enough to restore and protect the irreplaceable pearls of transportation history it already has at its fingertips.

All that VMT’s leadership wants is the means to run a “mainline” operation once again rather than maneuver along a wobbly, rusty and overgrown side track.

That would be so, so …right.

Carol of the Bells

I couldn't help myself. I read over some of the old posts here, and noticed a trend -- we complain about money a lot. I'm not saying there isn't a good reason for that, nor that there isn't some interesting stuff there. Just an observation, that's all. So, in our continuing effort for consistency, here's another rant post about money.

Hark! how the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say "Throw cares away."

Last year, we sold a locomotive (a sentence I never thought I'd use before I started working here). By the calendar, that happened this year, but as far as our finances are concerned, that was last year. Anyway, if not for that sale, we'd have ended up in the red. This year doesn't look a lot better, and we're all out of locomotives to sell.

Christmas is here, bringing good cheer to young and old, meek and the bold.

The situation isn't terrible, as we've still got some chunks of local money and other donations coming in, but the outlook is not good. Citizens of Virginia are well-aware of the budget crunch facing the Commonwealth, and the murmurs in Richmond say that there will be no state funding for non-state agencies. As a tax-payer, I can't personally fault this sentiment, but working for a struggling non-profit, it's a dark cloud. It's also worth noting that your Virginia Museum of Transportation is the Official Transportation Museum of the Commonwealth. That designation isn't just fluff -- it came directly from the legislature in Richmond years ago. While the title is nice, it does not make us an agency of the state. Ergo, when goes the money, so goes the show.

Ding, dong, ding, dong -- that is their song, with joyful ring, all caroling.

The City of Roanoke hasn't been much help, either. We expected and accepted that long ago, so this is no great surprise. Our funding from the city is at an all-time low, but the city has its own budget needs, too.

So what does that mean for the 44-year old caretaker of Virginia's transportation heritage?

One seems to hear words of good cheer from everywhere, filling the air.

It means we've got three possible futures.

In the first, we receive a substantial donation from a major player, to be continued in perpetuity. The B&O Railroad Museum receives substantial funding from CSX. They get a lot of donations, too, of course, but this is an example of what a large corporate partner can do. Last year, Norfolk Southern very generously contributed tens of thousands of dollars to us. This year, they're again doing so with the caveat that we now match their donation. However, in neither case was the money enough to get us through a year. We're no less grateful; merely honest.

In the second, we become a state agency. This is probably the most ideal course for us. State funding ensures our continuation, and provides resources beyond our current means. This would resurrect our restoration, curatorial, and education departments -- three neglected and presently inactive areas of our operation forced into dormancy by a lack of funding. It would also help us cross the hurdle we've been stuck on for a while, and get out of the rather regional focus we have in our collection and exhibits. At its last meeting, the VMT Board of Directors voted to pursue this course, but their consent is not the only cog in this wheel.

In the third, we continue as we are. The only end game for this particular circumstance will be the closing of our doors. We could get by a few more years, but if we made it to a 50th birthday, it would surprise everyone involved.

O, how they pound, raising the sound, o'er hill and dale, telling their tale.

Virginia's Explore Park just shut down, largely for the same reasons. The brand new Art Museum of Western Virginia has not yet opened, now costing nearly double its initial $40.5 million price tag. The History Museum of Western Virginia resembles a ghost town. Despite some [reasonably] successful events and increased attendance, your VMT in the same trenches.

Gaily they ring, while people sing songs of good cheer. Christmas is here!

During the holidays, everyone has a hand out, asking for toys, clothes, money, food, time, prayers, and company. There's never enough to go around, this is true. What we don't seem to realize is that this holds true during the rest of the year, too. We just don't notice it unless we stand outside in a Santa suit and ring a bell.

Merry, merry, merry, merry Christmas!
Merry, merry, merry, merry Christmas!

Clerical Oversight

VMT used to be a city museum. This is an older bit of history, but it bears mentioning because it has to do with this story. VMT got its start as the Roanoke Transportation Center and Railroad Museum in May of 1963. At that time, it was an odd assortment of priceless locomotives and rather ordinary wagons and a four-year old Jupiter IRBM. The whole thing sat in Roanoke's Wasena Park for 22 years before a flood wiped out most of the complex.

The museum relocated to its current home on Norfolk Avenue, with its new and current name in tow. A curious matter of billing never quite caught up, though.

While in the city park, the museum's water bill was paid by the city. This made sense as there was no way to discern how much water was being used by public fountains and bathrooms and how much by the museum itself. Fair enough. But when the museum reopened downtown, the city continued to pay its water bill. One might think that this was an oversight that would be corrected in a few months, or maybe a year. Try 22 years.

In the early spring of this year, the museum received a notice from the water authority that threatened to turn off our water for a past due bill. When we called about this, the water authority told us that the bill had been paid by the city. A phone call to the city confirmed this, and shed light on a clerical error more than two decades old. The museum changed its name prior to moving from the park, so the bills showed the same name and got sent to the same address with the city's Parks and Recreation office. Apparently, nobody in that office thought this was odd. More accurately, 22 years of city officials in that office didn't think it was odd.

We finally started paying our own water bills this year, and we thank the tax payers of Roanoke for their generous contributions over the years. They quite literally kept the water running.

To attempt to describe the railroad's presence and influence in the city of Roanoke over the years is to attempt to describe a rainbow to a blind man. Roanoke still bears the marks of its illustrious rail heritage, much as an older man may still show some pocks from his pimpled youth.

A quick look around town will confirm this. Consider The Great 611 Steak Company*, a local restaurant adorned in the colors and images of Norfolk & Western's own #611. The Norfolk Southern shops still dominate the city skyline on the other side of I-581. There are dozens of bridges and overpasses for trains. Shaffer's Crossing is the largest rail yard in Virginia west of Richmond. Some of the most popular events in the town's history have been when locomotives came into or left this museum, much like the fanfare that accompanied their births at the shops down the street.

One other rail tribute lives in Roanoke. Actually, it lives above Roanoke at the Mill Mountain Zoo. The Zoo Choo, a miniature train, has operated at the zoo for more than half a century, happily transporting visitors around the zoo whilst bombarding them with views of the valley that are truly unmatched. The Zoo Choo is every bit an institution in Roanoke.

Last night, it was announced that the Zoo Choo is moving.

The train is owned by the Roanoke Jaycees, but has chugged along atop Mill Mountain for more than 50 years. The zoo asked the Jaycees to remove the train as they wished to purchase a train for themselves, no longer wishing to split the revenue from the Jaycees' engine. Looking for a new home, the Jaycees contacted us, and we said yes.

To place the train here requires a healthy bit of construction that we cannot guarantee to be completed for next year (the train will move out of the zoo in November of 2007). A track pattern resembling a dog bone will be placed outside in our rail yard. At several points, it will cross the tracks on which its larger cousins rest. These sections will be made removable so that we can move the pieces in our collection as needed. This means elevating the entirety of the mini-train's track and filling with ballast and wood.

One consideration is to relocate and repaint the old Ellitt station which sits outside the museum for use as the ticket booth. Another would be to purchase tickets inside at the front desk or gift shop, though the station idea is obviously preferable.

The Jaycees would operate the train, hiring all the engineers and maintenance workers. The terms of the financial agreement would be as they were with the Mill Mountain Zoo -- VMT and the Jaycees will split the net return.

This is a fitting home for the Zoo Choo. When the museum was located in Wasena Park, it operated a miniature train of its own. That train, however, was actually a tractor with a fiberglass shell over it, far from the sophistication of this entity. Moreover, the zoo will not be without a train forever. The zoo already has plans to purchase a train that it would own and operate itself, so the Zoo Choo will yet live.

One of the single most common requests at VMT from visitors is for a train ride. Since Norfolk Southern's main east-west line sits right behind the museum, this is nearly impossible. However, the Zoo Choo is an excellent compromise and will provide a fine base of operations for the next fifty years of its life, riding the rails in the shadows of the giants that inspired it.

*VMT collaborates with The Great 611 Steak Company. A receipt from the museum is good for 10% off your meal at the restaurant, and your meal receipt is good for 10% off admission to the museum.

Big doin's

The Roanoke City Council voted unanimously to give the Nickel Plate Locomotive #763 to us. This kick-starts the chain of events involved in making the sale finally happen. The Ohio Central Railroad Historical Society will pay us once we have written confirmation that Norfolk Southern will move the engine for them. With all of that in place, #763 will pull out of Roanoke for the first time in about forty years.

Meanwhile, the Advance Auto Parts Auto Gallery is nearing completion. The museum will be closing to the public this Sunday, April 22nd, to host a private event for Advance's team members in honor of Advance's 75th anniversary. After that, the gallery will open the following week. We're not sure when the grand opening will be as there's still a lot of work to do, but the public will have access before the month is out. How wild is that?! And it's only seven months late... pesky storms.

On a slightly personal note, this blogger just returned from a trip to the Museum Store Association Conference and Expo in Denver, Colorado. Coming out of the contacts made and research done there, look for a unique product line to be introduced this fall in VMT's store, Destinations. These items won't be available anywhere else, so be sure to check back for more information.

Finally (ah... finally), the museum may be acquiring a U.S. Army Cobra helicopter for display outside the museum. The hope is to place it about twenty feet in the air in front of the building with its running lights on to attract attention. Unfortunately, and for obvious reasons, we can't keep the rotor running. One flock of birds with bad depth perception and we've got a mess.

Stay tuned for more, and some pictures of our fearless leader trying to operate a Zamboni machine in a shirt and tie!

VMT's special guests

Today, your Virginia Museum of Transportation received two special guests.

The first is Mr. Karl E. "Redbird Express" Teller, the National Hobo King. "Redbird" was elected (by applause) King at the 2002 National Hobo Convention at the Hobo Museum in Britt, Iowa.

King Teller said, "I've been trying to get down here to this museum for a long time, and it was worth the wait."

"Redbird Express" continues to serve as Hobo Ambassador-at-Large, and serves as a Special Ambassador to the Casey Jones Railroad Museum in Water Valley, Mississippi.

The National Hobo Convention meets annually during the second weekend in August (he provided us with a brochure for the event). During the weekend, they host such attractions as:

• A "Hobo Jungle" (Who knows what this could be?!)
• Carnival
• Parade (It must be a stirring sight to see these shoe-less vagabonds with all their possessions in a bag, walking along not completely sure of where they are.)
  
• 5K and 10K Walk/Run (Hobo traditions when other forms of transportation are not available.)
  
• Classic Car Show (How would Hobos get cars?)
• Hobo Auction (Whether Hobos' belongings or Hobos themselves are being auctioned is not clear.)
• The Coronation of the Hobo King and Queen (These elections are determined by applause as decided by a panel of Hobo Judges.)
  
• Mulligan Stew (This is interesting; the city of Britt, Iowa cooks up 550 gallons of Mulligan Stew and allows all comers to fill their own containers. Some fill thermoses, others have been known to bring large ice chests to fill.)

Britt, Iowa is roughly 130 miles from anything. 120 miles to the south is Des Moines, and Minneapolis is situated 140 miles northward. The Hobo Museum is located on Britt's Main Street in an old movie theater. "Redbird" told us that they were attempting to have a new facility built, but even the lowest bidder was talking about more than $100,000 for a new building and "that's not Hobo money."*

As for our other special guest, the Virginia Museum of Transportation was pleased to welcome David Goode, retired Chief of Norfolk Southern. David and his wife Susan were in Roanoke today for the dedication of the David and Susan Goode Railwalk, commemorating and chronicling Roanoke's rail heritage via a walking trail from VMT to Market Street downtown. After touring the Railwalk, David and his wife returned to VMT for a tour of the building, led by Executive Director Bev Fitzpatrick and President Tom Cox.

The amount of internet real estate in this post devoted to our two guests may be inversely proportional to their relative importance to this museum's well-being. Nonetheless, VMT was glad to welcome both of our special guests, and we invite them to come back any time.

*Blogger's note: I don't know what that means.

Show me the... wait, where'd it go?

Museum life has its ups and downs. Saying something that trite is not only painful, but also painfully true.

An article in last week's Roanoke Times reports that the City of Roanoke has promised up to $500,000 in matching funds to the Mill Mountain Zoo for capital improvements. That is great news. We have some good friends at the zoo, and those facilities have been in need of repair and upgrading for some time. This was a long time coming for them, and hopefully worth the wait.

Meanwhile, the new Art Museum of Western Virginia is churning along, unfurling like a cross between the Flying Nun's habit and a vague monument to bourgeois taste (that's alright, because it fits in so seamlessly with Roanoke's general architectural scheme). All of this at $66 million. All kidding aside, we have some good friends at the art museum and we're happy they're receiving a new facility.

Naturally, one might think that with the city being so generous to the Mill Mountain Zoo and the Art Museum of Western Virginia, your Virginia Museum of Transportation might be on the eve of a great windfall, a financial bonanza that would be a new sunrise for the museum.

Not only was our grant proposal answered with a mere $24,900, but the latest kick in the teeth came when the city began soliciting bids for a strategic plan for the museum, funded by the Norfolk Southern Corporation. Let us be more clear. We're happy to receive a strategic plan, but the city has so far kept us out of the loop on the bidding process. We're sorry, City of Roanoke, but the last time we checked, we were still a private organization. Unless you're creating a strategic plan for the locomotives themselves, we think we've got a more than legitimate right to input on any and all decisions relating to this museum.

The City of Roanoke owns about 45% of our collection, including the only surviving Norfolk & Western Class J and Class A locomotives, and the largest collection of diesel locomotives in the south. The City of Roanoke, which cut our funding from $60,000* two years ago to $52,000 last year, already has a sizable investment in our museum. In many ways, our museum better than any other, tells the story of Roanoke. Further, admissions figures show that nearly 80% of our patrons come from out of town. How many other museums in Roanoke can boast that?

The building that houses that collection, tells that story, and draws those tourists was built in 1918. Some of the electrical wiring inside is original. More than 75% of the roll-down doors that line the front and rear of the building are in horrible states of repair, and their improper seals make for extremely inefficient heating and cooling. Moreover, damage from the storm last summer that ripped off about 10,000 square feet of our roof left two offices, a conference room, and a bathroom condemned due to water damage in the electrical system. Further, it forced the complete replacement of two HVAC units to heat and cool the building, not to mention a new roof which still hasn't been installed (it took nearly six months to receive the first check from the insurance company after lengthy negotiations and adjustments). If you came by the museum this winter, you discovered what those of us working here encountered daily -- no heat. That same storm tore the main gas line off the building like an old band-aid and permanently damaged the heaters up there.

Census data tells us that the Roanoke metropolitan area is home to roughly 200,000 people. If it costs 66 million dollars to build a new art museum, half a million dollars to restore the zoo to a high level of quality, and if there are more than 35 non-profit organizations in that same metropolitan area, the question is this:

Just how much money will be left for anybody?

We don't think we're more deserving than any other institution in town. Except, maybe we are. Roanoke's investment here has already been illustrated. So maybe we should ask, how much is it worth to protect and develop that investment? It's becoming increasingly clear what the city thinks.

* To put this figure in perspective, $60,000 covers slightly less than two months of our operating expenses.

Tug-of-war

The last time our Norfolk & Western J Class #611 ran under its own power was in 1994. When it finally came back to us, the crowds along the tracks were several people deep on both sides.

Currently, #611 is the closest thing we have to an operational locomotive. The current estimate to restore it to running condition is less than $250,000 -- a drop in the bucket for anybody willing to shell out the kind of money it would take to run #611 in excursion service. This is sort of like the people who buy expensive sports cars; if they can afford the car, they can probably afford the gas and taxes.

Like #1218 and #763, we don't own #611; it belongs to the City of Roanoke, and we lease it from them for $1.00 per year. As part of our agreement with the city, and the city's agreement with Norfolk Southern, we are required to move #611 about once a year to keep its wheels and bearings from flattening under the weight of the engine. The last time we moved it was more than a year ago.

Our Executive Director had a fantastic idea to accomplish this task this year -- a large-scale tug-of-war tournament. #611 is registered as a national engineering landmark, in part because it is very well-balanced, so much so that a small group of people (perhaps as few as two or three) can pull it with a rope over level track.

The idea would be to clear the track in front of and behind #611, and have competing teams pulling in opposite directions. The first team to pull the engine beyond a certain point would win that round and it would proceed in a tournament style.

We'd solicit prizes from local businesses, get some live music, throw some burgers and dogs on the grill and charge a nominal admission fee, also collecting group entry fees from the teams. The turn-out could be tremendous, and it could easily become an annual fund raiser. There are a lot of people locally and abroad that would pay just about anything to see this engine move.

If nothing else, we'd get somebody to move the engine without Norfolk Southern having to come in with a switcher just to move the thing a few feet in either direction.

763

There was a good deal of discussion when it was announced that we were going to sell the Nickel Plate locomotive, No. 763 to the Ohio Central Railroad Historical Society (no direct link available). We received positive and negative feedback, but the reasoning behind the decision seems to have been lost amid nostalgia and passion. We'd like to explain why we chose to sell this piece of the collection, and how it will benefit you, our patrons.

To start, we need to clear up that we, the museum, cannot actually sell this particular locomotive. It doesn't belong to us. Rather, it belongs to the City of Roanoke, having been gifted to the city by Norfolk & Western in the 1960s when this museum was the Roanoke Transportation Museum. At no point has the Virginia Museum of Transportation ever owned this locomotive, and as such, its sale must ultimately be made by the city, not us.

On down the rabbit hole, this locomotive in no way furthers the mission of VMT. What is our mission, you ask? It is:

To preserve and interpret the transportation heritage of the Commonwealth by collecting, restoring and exhibiting significant artifacts in order to serve and educate the citizens of Virginia.

That's it. So why doesn't #763 add to this? #763 never ran one foot within the borders of the Commonwealth of Virginia. It came here purely by chance when Norfolk & Western acquired the Nickel Plate line. As diesels were replacing steam engines, there was no need for this piece, but it would be bad politics to simply scrap it. So, it went to the City of Roanoke, home of Norfolk & Western's headquarters at the time. The city stuck it in our back yard, where it's been quite literally through hell and high water.

Ok, now for the ugly part -- money. The American Association of Museums (AAM) contends that it is in bad form to sell any piece of a museum's collection unless the money from the sale directly benefits the collection through restoration or the purchase of another piece. Well, we can't really argue that fact. As mentioned above, the City of Roanoke would receive the money, and it would be at their discretion to allocate it to VMT or not. Assuming they would, the money would at least partially go toward the collection. There's more to it, though.

It has not been made clear quite how dire things have been for VMT financially. In a year that saw the roof torn off the building like wrapping paper on Christmas morning, the state cut our funding by nearly 60%, and the City of Roanoke which owns more than 40% of our collection, gave us a mere $52,000 (representing about a 5% cut from the previous year). The sale of #763 for $125,000, to be blunt, keeps our doors open.

If we want to adhere strictly to the AAM's guideline about the application of money from the sale, then no, it isn't all going where it should. To that, we can only say this:

If we are closed, the pieces in our collection will deteriorate more than they would when we are open.

Period. Do we have a full-time restoration team? No. Could we afford one if we did? Probably not. Would the sale of #763 allow for that? You better believe it would. It would also pay for us to offer educational programs to schools and community organizations, it would go toward restoring and preserving the pieces of our collection, and it would enable us to exhibit better the artifacts we already have. All of these things are 100% in line with our mission statement.

It is undeniable that #763 has a special place in the heart for a lot of Roanokers and Virginia rail fans alike. The decision to sell the locomotive is not meant in any way to belittle or demean this sentiment. Rather, the opposite is true. The Ohio Central Railroad Historical Society has both the money and the ability to restore #763 to operating condition. Upon doing so, it will run excursions in Ohio, providing an unforgettable and meaningful experience to the citizens of Ohio, the engine's true home.

We hope that you'll come to see #763 one last time before it leaves Roanoke. It had a long history here, and will leave amid tears and celebration. But its sale helps us do our jobs, and our jobs make your experiences here better.