The Unloved Passenger

Unlike airlines, which promise to make the going great, and bus lines, which urge travelers to leave the driving to them, U.S. railroads have increasingly been able to fend off passengers with shrinking schedules and slovenly service. Now both the public and the Government are fighting back.

> Consumer Crusader Ralph Nader charged last week that railroading "is the only industry I know of where a company has made toilet maintenance part of its cost-cutting program." In an angry demand for Government action, Nader continued: "The railroads have tried to make toilets so dirty that people just won't use them. That is just part of the total effort to drive passengers away."

> The Justice Department decided that the abrupt cancellation of an Omaha-to-Billings, Mont., train last summer at remote Hemingford, Neb., was outrageous enough to file criminal charges against two Burlington Lines executives. When an expiring court injunction permitted abandonment of the service, they had the train flagged down in mid-run, stranding several irate passengers. The executives were accused of failing to provide service for tickets previously sold; if convicted, they would face fines of up to $5,000.

> The Interstate Commerce Commission refused to allow the Louisville & Nashville to scrap the only remaining train between St. Louis and Atlanta. If patronage was poor, the ICC said, it was due "in no small measure to a marked deterioration in service." Neither food nor beverage vending machines, noted the indignant commission, were provided on the 609-mile run.

In an industry that lost $200 million on passenger service in 1968, horror stories of unconscionable service and rachitic equipment are a valuable asset. They help trains to become "un-derpatronized"--and therefore eligible for cancellation under ICC rules. There were 1,400 intercity passenger trains in 1958; now there are only 488. Every road in the U.S. is out to emulate the half a dozen carriers, from the Boston and Maine to the Frisco, that have succeeded in eliminating passenger business entirely. President Louis W. Menk of Northern Pacific might have been speaking for the industry in November when he told a House committee: "I make no mistake about it. I want out."

The 61-27 Limited. To speed the way, the railroads have adopted a number of plans calculated to make the going miserable. Penn Central has walled up the main entrance of its Detroit terminal and removed the baggage lockers inside. A sign in a Union Pacific train advises passengers that "on days livestock is to be carried, Train 82 runs about a half-hour later than the schedule shows." The Southern Pacific, the nation's most profitable railroad, has employed classic tactics to depopularize the once elegant Los Angeles-to-New Orleans Sunset. Phone calls for departure and arrival information go unanswered, and printed schedules are hard to find. Anyone venturesome enough to get aboard can expect 44 hours in a coach seat (no sleepers) and meals from a bank of vending machines.

The railroads practice all sorts of tricks with timetables to discourage traffic. The Chesapeake and Ohio schedules its trains between Detroit and Grand Rapids to arrive after 2 a.m. The Southern Pacific's Lark reaches Los Angeles from San Francisco 35 minutes too late to connect with the eastbound Super Chief and 20 minutes after the last train to San Diego. Passengers on the Baltimore & Ohio's night train from Washington to Detroit are put off at Fostoria, Ohio at 5:30 a.m. and loaded aboard busses for the last leg of the trip. Then there is the nostalgia-tinged "last run," epitomized by the New York Central two years ago when, with much hoopla, it sadly announced the end of the Twentieth Century Limited between New York and Chicago. Actually, the train still runs, complete with Pullmans, dining and lounge cars, but it is now known merely as Train 61-27.

Not Just Buffs. There is ample evidence, experts say, that fast, modern rail service could fill a vital need between at least 75 U.S. city-pairs 200-300 miles apart. The Penn Central's high-speed Washington-New York Metroliner has been operating with 75% of its seats filled, despite bugs in the computerized reservations system. For years the Seaboard Coast Line has been running New York-Miami trains that are popular, comfortable and profitable. The Florida Special, which cleared $300,000 last season, is booked for weeks in advance by passengers who enjoy such amenities as color TV and a recreation car where airline-style "hostesses" put on fashion shows.

Such successes collide with the industry-fostered notion that passenger-service advocates are just sentimental buffs. In 1968, the railroads carried a substantial 92 million passengers, not counting commuters. Yet there is no denying one industry contention: the debt-laden railroads cannot afford costly but needed improvements.

At present, the passenger's future is in the hands of Congress, which is considering a dozen bills to improve railroad service. The main features of most of them are contained in a bill being prepared by the Senate Commerce Committee. At a cost of up to $445 million over the next four years, the bill would provide funds for new equipment, subsidies for money-losing operations, and an office within the Department of Transportation to manage basic passenger services--in effect, a quasi-nationalized system. The plan is anathema to most proponents of private enterprise; yet, as even the railroads concede, it seems to be the only way that the U.S. can regain the quality of railroad passenger service that Europe and Japan still enjoy.

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