tales of olde Ipswich
I was rather sad the other day when I went over to Rowley to see what was left of the old railroad depot. It had burned the night before—probably set by vandals.
The Rowley depot was one of the last to be standing and now there are only a few left.
Although it hadn't been used for years, oftentimes when I was over that way I would pause to look at it. I have always had a warm spot in my heart for depots. Often-times the waiting rooms were far from anyplace you would want to spend much time in. They were seldom swept and the settees or seats were covered with papers or gum. But in spite of this, one somehow liked to sit and watch the trains go by.
It was here that while waiting for the train you and our friends discussed everything from town politics
to business. You met all types of persons and many a time I have entertained myself by reading the posters on the wall. They would tell about snow trains, or special bargain trips and the doings in the local' and; Boston theaters could always be found posted on the walls of the station. And coming in from the cold and standing beside that station stove, loaded with soft coal, really did something for you. You could sit and listen to the ticking of the telegraph, which seemed to add a sort of music to the background.
Finally, you would see the baggage trucks loaded with suitcases and mail bags being rolled out to the siding. This was always a signal that- the train was due and that it was time to leave the warm waitingroom and head for the train. The gates were being lowered and soon the steam locomotive with 'railway cars would roll in.
How everybody would rush to get on first to get a seat. In the smoker, where the fumes were so thick you could-cut them, there were card games going in full swing.
Somehow, as you were rolling out of the station you looked back and felt as if you were leaving an old friend behind.
Well, they are all gone now—the depots, the baggage and the locomotives. And if one has lived through this era, it makes that person sort of yearn for the old depots
HAROLD D. BOWEN