I’ve been thinking a lot about trains since they started building that mighty railroad over in Griffith Park. You know, from the paper three days ago. So I’m on my way down to South Gate to watch the derailed trains roll by, maybe get a piece of fence stuck in me, when I became entranced by some car fire near Hoover and Venice.
When it dawns, do you really want to see another serene scene of some train tracks and their friend the sickly ficus? So I came home and’ve furnished you with these Examiner images of the Southern Pacific Owl wreck, January 18, 1947, when seven died in the freezing dark north of Bakersfield, after five southbound passenger train coaches were hurled off the track by a broken rail.
Now aren’t you glad I spared you the sight of sickly fici. Despite that nagging feeling you have that there’s something contemptible, nay, pitiable about your attraction to destruction? Well, beats the landscape of South Gate.
