Union Station and me spook entry V-b

I know that I said there would be only one more blog entry. But with Halloween upon us, how could I pass up the opportunity to relate some of the spooky happenings around Union Station?

Ghost stories abound in the historic old rail terminal.

The most persistent one relates an audio supernatural experience.

It usually happens either very early in the morning, just before dawn or late in the evening, just before midnight. Many humans have reported pretty much exactly the same thing, which goes like this: You are standing all alone about two-thirds of the way into the North Waiting Room, now called Festival Plaza. All is quiet, and then, suddenly, there is a loud rushing noise, and you realize that it is the sound of hundreds of feet shuffling to catch a train, and as the sound intensifies, muffled voices can be heard, people in a hurry, small children crying, lovers saying farewell. And then in a few seconds, it's gone, as quickly as it came.

More than one security officer at the station has related to me the tale of seeing a very well-dressed man, standing near the knuckle between the FP and Grand Hall. Looking closer, it is obvious that the man is attired in very, very vintage clothes-top hat, spats, gloves and spectacles. As the security guard approaches, the man looks his way, then vanishes, Poof!

Many ghost stories are in a Christmas setting. "A Christmas Carol" is perhaps the best-known of the genre. There is the story of a six year-old boy who was accidentally left behind in the station on December 23, 1924. By the time the parents realized the boy wasn't with them on the train, they had traveled to Manhattan, KS. Word went back to the station and of course security and station personnel searched high and low, but the boy never showed up. Much speculation swirled around the incident, including one theory that the boy climbed into a space that was being renovated, became trapped, fell asleep, died from lack of oxygen. and was somehow walled in when crews began work again after the holidays. Some say that late at night, right around December 23rd, the boys cries can be heard on B level, coming first from one direction, then another, then stop.

I have experienced a multi-directional audio phenomenon at the station, but of a different sort.

There were five of us working late on a very cold January afternoon at the station. It was dark and gloomy, and the extension cords we were using became brittle and would barely roll up as we moved from one location to another. All of a sudden, we heard a loud BANG!, the sound of a massive door closing. Then heavy footsteps, as though climbing stairs. But it was a Sunday, and work hadn't really begun in earnest, so there was supposed to be no one else in the building. It was locked tight, and I was given the key for the specific purpose of shooting "before" photos.

As we all stopped what we were doing and listened, the heavy footsteps became faint and finally, nothing. We all looked at each other and went back to work.

About ten minutes later, we heard the footsteps once again, this time from the other side of the station. Now it had our full attention. We grabbed light stands, tripods, flashlights, I think one grip even found a knife, and we hustled off to investigate. When we approached the area that seemed to be where the sound was coming from, it stopped. So we stopped in our tracks to listen. In a few seconds, we heard the sound yet again, only this time from the opposite side from where we were. It was messing with us.

As we rushed off in that direction, the footsteps became faint once again, we heard a heavy door slam, and all was quiet.

We decided we had shot enough for the day and hurriedly struck the set and left.

Very early on, around 1995, brother George, Lloyd Dillinger and I were shooting on C level. There were no lights and not even an electrical outlet for more than 1,000', so we brought an automobile battery-powered 100 watt bulb on a rolling cart so the we had plenty of light to see what we were doing and in fact used it some to actually make exposures. There was one corner that was especially dark, so naturally we wanted light over there. Problem was, when we pointed the light in that corner, it would go off. Point it in any other direction and it worked fine. Yes, we checked and re-checked the connections, all was good. And it worked every where else on C level. We concluded that whatever was in that corner did not want us to photograph it...

The Photos:

On first glance this image taken by photo friend Dale Monaghen looks pretty routine. Just a couple of guys, Bob Barrett and me, looking at what was left of the old mail processing chutes on C level. Closer examination, however, will reveal a pair of red eyes watching our every move. Dale's flash obviously reflected in the retina of whatever it was. Or maybe it was just Photoshop; Dale never said...

Union Station is a two-sided coin: On one hand, it is beautiful and visual poetry, light changing constantly. On the other, it has a spooky side. The high contrast of afternoon light can amplify this effect: warm glow of the walls that catch the sunlight, areas of mystery left in shadows.

On a cloudy day Union Station can be downright gloomy, moody, a little foreboding, especially if you let your imagination go...

So what was it that day when I was photographing out front, hoping to catch some snow flakes dotting the facade? I shot four frames at five frames a second, and this....smoky apparition appeared in only one.

Old, discarded baggage carts accompany the ghosts of Union Station on C level.

Union Station and me V

Special people, and forgive me if I left you out: My brother George Inman, who, along with many others endured the cold, the heat, the toxic wastes of Union Station to help me document this incredible transformation; Kathy Wismer, who innocently showed up in shorts once, not knowing that was verboten on a construction site; the Batman, an iron worker who just felt an affinity for bats, of which there were many in Union Station in the early days. He would gently catch a bat when he saw one and release it later into the wild; Matt Nichols, photo assistant extraordinaire (now with his own, successful photography business); Chris Dahquist; and others whose names escape me at the moment.

There was one special person who was not really there to help, but to experience. That was internationally-known, local mystery writer Nancy Picard. She thought there might be inspiration for a book in the not-quite restored station.

The scaffolding was still in place in the Grand Hall, and I did not know until Nancy, George and I started up the first of 129 steps to the top, that Nancy had a real fear of heights. She was adaptable, but we had to stop on every landing and I had to "talk her up" to the next level.

At the outcome, she made it all the way to the top and touched the ceiling, something not many people had the chance to do. Back on the floor of the Grand Hall she thanked me for helping her overcome a challenge.

Speaking of the ceiling, Bill Ehlers, a master at the painting craft, directed a crew of artisans in the application of as many as 17 separate colors on the Grand Hall ceiling. It was an amazing piece of work.

Before that, however, sculptors reworked and remade 60% of the ceiling. Hales and Howe, based in England, was the company that provided the extremely skilled workers to complete the task. 

One especially memorable character on the crew was Julian Davis, aka "chewy"-because he liked his chawin' tobacco. He had a British accent and a true artist's touch in measuring, creating and installing the hundreds of odd-sized pieces (some of which were called "eggs and rods") originally made more than 70 years ago.

I was curious how he felt about Union Station, given the fact that he and other Hales and Howe craftsmen had worked on Buckingham Palace and the United States Capitol Building.

Usually a light-hearted sort of fellow with a sharp sense of humor, he turned serious, looked me straight in the eye  and uttered the words I shall never forget: "Roy, Union Station is Kansas City's castle."

I realized he was right. If there is a more grand building in our town, I don't know what it is.

____________________________

I had worked for nearly five years alongside the painters, sculptors (they were far more than mere plasterers), electricians, plumbers, tile installers. We got to know each other a bit, and we all knew that we were a part of history. They were reclaiming the station, I was recording the process. Out of that experience developed a sense of camaraderie. I more fully understood this when, at the outcome, and they were installing the final rosette in the Grand Hall, the sculptors asked me to sign it, along with the craftsmen who had brought it back to life. I have to tell you that I was touched-no, moved actually. It was a magic moment, and worth all the long days and nights, the physical hardships, the worn-out cameras, all the career sacrifices and time away from home.

So, if you are ever up close and personal with the 95-foot high ceiling, you will find my name up there :)

Next time: Final tale of the Book; a failed toy train attempt; "glam" photos; closing thoughts, FWIW.

The Photos:

A sculptor works on the platform built to a height of nearly 90'

The station was scrubbed inside and out with a non-toxic spray wash. The "before" section on the right gives an idea of how filthy the walls were.

This dusk photo of the scaffolding in the Grand Hall required six lights, a 4x5 view camera and a held breath on the 30' scissor lift.

A scaffold-builder awaits pieces of the puzzle. This strapped-to-the-pole view gives an idea of how massive the temporary structure was, and how far the platform was off the floor.

While this may appear to be your routine "replacing the clock" photo, there is more to it. As I hope you can tell, the two Capital Electric workers are turning a large wrench. There was much discussion before the clock's removal about exactly how to  get it down with as little damage to the archway as possible. At first, the opinion was that a number of the marble blocks would have to be removed, a thought that made the historic preservationists cringe. Then, in a remarkable instant of insight, one of the Capital Electric men gave the big nut at the top a twist. Voila! It was a very large retaining ring. Unscrew it and the clock is free. Fortunately, it was being supported by scaffolding so that it did not drop to the floor. Consequently, no marble had to be disturbed, and the clock went away to its original makers for restoration and repair. BTW, the clock is six feet in diameter and weighs 1,000 pounds. 

One of my favorite  restoration shots. How do we know for sure it was taken during the restoration? Three things: 1) There is scaffolding in the semi-dark background; 2) There are no radiators near the railing; 3) The shadows on the floor indicate that the windows are open. They are now sealed shut.

And finally, Chewy's hands, after a day's work on the ceiling. 

Union Station and me IV

I was at Union Station early that day, around 6:30 AM, but J.E. Dunn's crews were already hard at it. Opening was about three weeks away and extended work hours were the norm. 

Strong, blindingly bright, shafts of sunlight roared into the Grand Hall, creating beam particles in the airborne dust from construction that mimicked the appearance of a Frank Meister photograph from the 1950's. 

As I rounded the knuckle I heard the loud voices bouncing off the marble and granite interior walls. Couldn't tell who was doing the shouting until the people came into view. There were about ten engineers, assistants and hangers-on standing around, and in the center were Andy Scott and Dave Ucko. The two were leaning towards each other, body language indicating that they were having a disagreement, to put it mildly. The veins were popping out in their necks, faces red. The confrontation concluded just as I came within about fifteen feet.

At that moment, Dave said "The Science City experience starts right here," making a gesture with his toe-a line in the sand as it were-to show Andy where the Big Black Fence would go, unevenly dividing up the North Waiting Room (soon to be Sprint Festival Plaza). The outcome was that the very people who had paid sales tax to restore the room (and the rest of the station) could not go beyond about the first 75' of the 350' long room to take a closer look without buying a ticket to Science City.

The group dispersed as I stood transfixed, trying to process what I had just witnessed. Andy Scott hustled by, muttering something under his breath about "...hope you didn't get audio on that..." No, I didn't Andy; but I have a good memory.

That incident gave insight into one of the many problems Union Station faced and faces still: strong and differing opinions within the organization on how things should be run. Heck, there was internal scuffling  for six months about where to put the Coke©  machine.

Union Station at that time had two bosses, Andy, overseer of the Union Station proper, and David, Science City czar. So Turner White, former VP for KCP&L, was brought in by the board to run the whole shebang. And a good idea it was, in principle. One of the two good things I learned in my brief, inglorious time spent in the military: Someone has to lead, otherwise there is chaos and, ultimately, failure. (The other good thing I learned was CPR).

(An aside, but related comment: Construction and approval of the Link, elevated walkway from Union Station to Crown Center, was so complicated that Andy Scott said it was "Harder than going to the Moon." Not only were there the above-mention internal disagreements, but the KC Parks Department, the water department, The Westin, Crown Center, et al, had to be on board. That is why the Link was not completed until well into 2000.)

Turner White actually accomplished two important tasks: He made the deal with the USPS to bring their mail handling operations over to the old Railway Express building, on the west side of Union Station, and he took down Dave's Big Black Fence. The REA building, BTW, was the largest, or one of the largest REA terminals in the world 70 years ago. The KCMO main public post office is now in the station in the west wing and has been for several years. Some postal patrons still think it is across the street, but that wonderful old building now houses the Infernal Revenue Service.

But at the outcome, Turner White had to leave, like all the rest. Depending upon how one counts, there have been either five or six CEO's at Union Station in its ten years since the rebirth. There is debate upon whether to count David Ucko in the group.

Next time: Special moments, special people.

The Photos: The Link under construction.

                       Grand reopening day at Union Station, November, 1999.

                       Dave Ucko's Big Black Fence in the foreground, which successfully kept the casual visitor at bay until Turner White had it removed. The filled-in holes are still visible in the floor.

                         Back when Union Station was a bee hive of activity, Christmas carolers strolled the Grand Hall during the holidays. One was a Bill Murray look alike and by sheer chance the group paused in exactly the right spot, which gave him an angelic, unearthly glow thanks to the streaming sunlight.

                         Another holiday photo. Interesting to note that the original, large hanging wreaths from decades ago were discarded so the station had to buy or rent new ones. Besides the clean up gang, I was apparently the only one who knew of their disposition, because Patty Markley who worked with Andy, asked me one day if I had seen them. I told her they had been thrown away. She is a lovely person, and so I will not embarrass her by printing her words of irritation...

                         My favorite images of Union Station have been taken in the snow. This view looks south from the roof of one of the old buildings across the tracks. It was one of series of panoramic photos taken to show the progress of the REA restoration and the parking lot.