Cass Railroad workers keep the trains running and family legacies alive.
Small beads of sweat roll from under the edge of Danny Seldomridge’s black cap and rest upon his brow. The morning sun shines down, breaking the chill of the early autumn air in the valley, where the fall colors in the West Virginia mountains are starting to show. He peels off his grease-spotted work gloves and wipes his sweaty hands on his denim jeans.
Through piercing blue eyes with soft creases around the edges, Seldomridge peers up at the Shay No. 6—a hulking, clanking, huffing, 163-ton, coal-powered steam engine locomotive he’s spent the past hour and a half prepping for its journey up Bald Knob. It’s the highest summit of Back Allegheny Mountain, a 4,860-foot climb.
Seldomridge and his four-man crew have greased the pistons, topped off the reservoirs with water, filled the hoppers with coal, cleaned the ashes from the locomotive’s exterior, refilled the oil reservoirs, and inspected the brake shoes, all in preparation for their 10:15 a.m. departure.
After just a few more checks, they will be ready to pilot the train around the bend of the tracks, past the locomotive shop and the water tank, to the depot where they will collect a dozen eager tourists. Many of them arrived a half hour before the ticket booth opened, waiting to see all that Cass Scenic Railroad State Park has to offer.
The Tracks Less Traveled
The locomotives at Cass Scenic Railroad were originally used to haul timber from Back Allegheny Mountain to the lumber mill in Cass. The operation started in 1901 but, after timbering shut down in 1960, the state repurposed the 11-mile track as a tourist attraction.
“I grew up on a farm about three miles outside of Cass,” Seldomridge says. “I’ve always been around trains.” His dad, Clayton, spent most of his life working on the railroad track. “I wanted to be a fighter pilot,” he says with a laugh. But he came to work at Cass in April 1975, when he was 19 years old. He first started working on the track, like his father.
“And then a year passed. And then another. And another. I was just crazy about the engines. Steam engines have always fascinated me. There’s always something to look at or listen to.”
His dad thought he was crazy. “He wanted me to be a fighter pilot, too.” But after some time working on the track, Seldomridge became a fireman, also known as a stoker. His job was to keep the fire running for the steam engine. As he grew more experienced and his knowledge of the engines grew, he became an engineer—the person responsible for driving the locomotive.
No online tutorial, textbook, or trade school can prepare someone for this type of work, the engineers say. Hands-on, apprenticeship-style training is the only way to learn about steam engines. “It’s all about the feel, looks, and sound of them,” Seldomridge says. He considers himself lucky to have arrived at Cass when some of the loggers were still there, to learn the tricks of the trade. He learned from the best, especially Artie Barkley—a lifelong Cass resident and respected locomotive engineer.
But this profession is far more than mastering the mechanics. It’s a calling. It’s a passion. And for many, it’s in their blood.
“Yeah, it tends to be hereditary,” says Cass Operations Director Mark Smith. “We’ve got one third-generation shop worker.” Smith, too, has steam in his blood—his father was a conductor for 38 years. Smith wasn’t initially interested in keeping with family tradition. His father offered jobs to his siblings but, by the time Smith was of age in the 1980s, there were no jobs left.
Instead, Smith worked as a restaurateur, volunteer EMT, and tow truck operator. But then the job at Cass came along. He started as an engineer trainee in 2000 and became a general laborer in 2005. He’s now a licensed conductor, licensed engineer, and general wearer of all hats. If a job is left undone at Cass, Smith is likely the man who will do it.
He says it took four or five years for him to feel any level of expertise with the engines and even now, 17 years later, he’s still learning. “I learn something new every day. It’s a nice challenge to figure out.” His dad had already passed when Smith took his first job at Cass, but he thinks he would have been proud.
Aside from Smith and Seldomridge, Cass also employs two other engineers—Rex Cassell and Dirk Caloccia. There’s room for one additional engineer, but Smith says they’re hard to come by. “It takes a certain amount of mechanical ability and a certain passion for it,” he says. “The locomotives, they’re a lot of work. It’s probably one of the most labor-intensive jobs. It’s not for the faint of heart.” He laughs and adds, “They’re not air-conditioned, but they’re great in the winter.”
Seldomridge has already worked up a sweat before the train picks up its passengers, but his day is just getting started. He’ll spend the next four and a half hours inside the cab, operating the controls to keep the locomotive moving. And after he and the tourists have parted ways, he’ll have even more work to do—turning off the valves and switches, refilling the boiler with water, and dumping the ashes that have built up over the trip.
The winter, January through April, is the off-season at Cass. “The mountain is inaccessible,” Smith explains. Instead of carrying passengers up and down the mountain to enjoy a ride through history and a wealth of breathtaking views, the engineers spend their winters closely inspecting their engines, performing Federal Railroad Administration maintenance, and “things you know need done.”
Periodically, trains must have more thorough inspections, requiring complete disassembly of the engines and ultrasound imaging of the boilers. Information is submitted to the State Rail Authority to ensure safety for passengers.
Railway passengers are in good hands. Smith says engineers know their engines so well they can hear a problem before they see it.
Connecting History and Heritage
Sharing this passion for the trains and the history behind them is 32-year-old conductor Josh Friel.
Friel also grew up on a farm outside Cass. He still remembers his first train ride at the scenic railroad, on a field trip with his second grade class. “I was watching the brakeman all day. I thought he was driving, but he was actually using the hand brakes. I knew that’s what I wanted to do. Friel grew fascinated with trains, asking for model engines for Christmas and birthday presents. He watched videos and read books—anything at all to do with trains. But his interest in trains lost steam during his teenage years. He turned his sights elsewhere and wound up working several jobs with the state Division of Natural Resources and West Virginia State Parks.
His love for the coal-powered machines was reignited when his son grew fond of Thomas the Tank Engine. The family took trips to Cass and to the Smoky Mountains to ride trains and, his interest rekindled, Friel checked out every book on the history of steam engines he could find at the Pocahontas County Public Library in Marlinton.
He put in his application at Cass and hoped for the best. He was hired in 2012, first as a brakeman, then as the conductor for the Bald Knob excursion. Today, he stands in blue-and-white-striped Dickies overalls and a matching hat—traditional garb for a train conductor. “I’m the youngest conductor in the history of Cass. I’m honored to be a part of it, the heritage and history.”
Like Seldomridge and Smith, Friel also has a personal connection to the trains—his great-grandfather was a cook for the logging operation at Cass. “He died two years before I was born,” Friel says. “This is the closest I’ll ever get to meeting him.”
Friel and his now-12-year-old son Jaryd built a mock-up of Cass in their home’s “train room.” Just as Friel looked up to the brakemen at Cass, his son now looks to him. “He loves trains,” Friel says. “Dad is his hero.” In a decade, Jayrd could be the man behind the locomotive.
It’s no wonder the connection between these men and their engines is so palpable and they take such pride in the work. By keeping the trains rolling, they’re keeping a piece of their own family histories alive.
Small flecks fall from overhead as Seldomridge makes his final preparations for his trip to Bald Knob. It’s coal ash—all that’s left of the million-year-old organic matter burned to keep the century-old iron giant moving.
Seldomridge has spent the majority of his 61 years burning coal, pulling levers, and breathing in steam from the boilers. But he’s no less fascinated by the process than the day he started. “It’s hard work. But I love it.”
written by Wendy Holdren
photographed by Walter Scriptunas II