"At
The Throttle"
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Mark
Bassett is the Executive Director of the White Pine Historical Railroad
Foundation, operator of the Nevada Northern Railway Museum. He can be
reached at the museum (775) 289-2085 ext. 7 or e-mail: director@nnry.com
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A Tribute to Jack Anderson
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Joan, Evva, and I have a frequent conversation on the fairness of life. Their contention is that life is not fair, and my flippant reply is, "If life was fair, horses would ride half the time." Now I need to eat those words because life is not fair; it took from us a person in the prime of his life, Jack Anderson. I only had the honor of knowing Jack for a little longer than a year. It will be a regret that I will carry for the rest of my life, that I did not have the pleasure of knowing him longer. For Jack was remarkable individual, I called him my magician, because I was convinced there was nothing Jack could not repair, fix, cajole, and make work. It was not just that he could repair things, but it did it in a low-key, understated way. It was experiencing artistry. I posted Jack's passing on the Internet because I knew he had friends and acquaintances that would want to know of his passing. And then the phone calls and e-mails started coming. There was a common theme in all of the messages: Jack was a gentle man who had a deep love of steam locomotives. Jack was a renaissance man. He studied photography with the famed Ansel Adams. He graduated from Tacoma Community College with a degree in journalism. But one of his loves were steam locomotives. He taught himself how to take care of and maintain these icons of a bygone era by reading old railroad books. Yet with Jack's touch, they weren't bygone. He coaxed them and made them talk to him. Every time you build a fire in a steam locomotive, the locomotive comes alive. And it is an art form to get a steam locomotive to do the work that you want it to do. And Jack did just that. He did it in a quiet way. There was no ego, no bragging, Jack just got the job done. One of the many challenges facing the Nevada Northern Railway Museum is the lack of an ashpit. I was concerned that due to the ash build up in front of the enginehouse, that we would have a derailment. And I predicted it would happen on a busy day. Sure enough about one month after Jack joined us, 93 derailed just outside of the enginehouse, at lunchtime, during a winter photo shoot. The pilot truck and three of the driving axles were on the ground. I had visions of having to make refunds and saw dollar bills flying away. I met Jack at the locomotive, and asked what do we do? He said I will need some tie plates, two rerailing frogs and some ¼" sheet steel. He was polite. I was verging on panic. We rounded up the supplies the he requested and then he dropped down into the wet, cold cinders and starting placing everything. Now 93 weighs 335,000 pounds. Using our diesel locomotive, we would move 93 back about eighteen inches. Then it was back into the cold snowy cinders to reposition the rerailing frog, tie plates, and steel. Then it was another move back, eighteen inches, and then back into cold wet cinders. In one hour and forty-five minutes, 93 was back on the rails. Whenever Jack needed something during this episode, he always said please and thank you. Once 93 was back on the rails, it was serviced and went back out to the photo shoot. No money needed to be refunded because the derailment became a photo opportunity. Once all of the hoopla was done, Jack went back to his bench and continued on whatever project he was working on. I guess you could call this Jack's trademark, quiet, unassuming and a magician. Martin
Hansen, a person who knew Jack for over twenty-four years wrote a tribute
to Jack that is posted, on the Mount
Rainer Scenic Railroad Website. Martin generously, allowed me
to quote part of his tribute. |
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Jack was born on June 3, 2020 and leaves behind his wife Carol, sons Joshua, Zachary and Christopher along with his daughter Stefanie Hill, granddaughter Camilla Hill and son-in-law Chuck Hill, and another granddaughter Neesa McGuire. Jack is survived by his mother, Marijane Anderson, sister Sarah Garner and brother-in-law Marcus Garner, brother Drev Anderson and nephew Nathan Garner. Carol asked that I include this poem:
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