by James Burke

When the economy of the country slumped at the end of the 1920s, the Rio Grande Southern Railroad was already in trouble. Its roundabout route from Ridgway to Durango was completed in 1891, when silver was still the shining star of the San Juans.
 

The mines of Rico and Telluride were more important targets of the railroad than the tying together of the outermost terminals.

Business blossomed during the bonanza year 1892, filling passenger and freight train each way daily. The repeal of the Sherman Silver Purchase Act in 1893 ended all that—mines and related businesses closed, passenger trains were cut back and replaced by mixed trains (a coach or two tacked onto the end of a freight train.)

Eventually, the economy of the San Juans recovered somewhat as gold was found to fill the silver void—at the bottom line, if not in terms of tonnage. But, the fortunes of the Rio Grande Southern never flourished again. She struggled to survive. One lucrative contract was the United States Mail. But to meet an acceptable schedule required a dedicated train. And a dedicated steam train required a five-man crew—and very few passengers were appearing to help pay wages.

The saviour was conceived in 1931—"The Galloping Goose." An unlikely combination of an automobile and a boxcar, its name arose from its appearance navigating uneven track. It only required a crew of one, "the Motorman," and accommodated not only the mail, but a few passengers too. "The Goose" was immediately seen as the Southern’s needed solution.

Ultimately, the flock expanded to seven geese. For twenty years, they honked their way into local affection and world-wide fame. When, in 1952, the inevitable could no longer be avoided, the Geese went to roost in various welcoming communities. Goose Five came to rest on ground that she knew well, where the old depot stood in downtown Dolores.

—And decades of quiet closed in.

Some 40 years later, Goose Five began to stir in the minds of those who admired her most and mourned her immobility—The Galloping Goose Historical Society of Dolores.

In 1987, this organization assumed the responsibilities of cosmetically maintaining the grounded goose and soon thereafter, thoughts of her resailing surfaced. Typically, the task was far less simple than its conception. Her gizzards and livers had not functioned for forty years. Skeptics had a field day. But devotees weren’t distracted.

Came that 1998 day the goose was gone from Dolores. Rumor was she took flight in the night, and nobody knew where to. —But the society knew. And so did the Chama, New Mexico folks. She was spotted honking around Windy Point and over Cumbres Pass. She came to roost by the old roundhouse that night amidst the cork-popping partying of her supporters.

To the ultimate relief of the downtown Dolores folks she found her way back home. But not forever. Her affections are far more fickle than they were for 40 years. She’s probably setting primly by the restored Dolores depot, but don’t be alarmed on any day to find her roost unfilled.

In August of 1999, she went flying by on the hIgh Line, soaring above the rapids of the River of Lost Souls. She may be seen on Silverton Streets, or attending Antonito, and don’t be alarmed if she should charm Durango’s Quiet Lady.

The news is good—and never would have flown in ‘52. When all the Ridgway folks were sure the geese were forever gone. The skeptics down Dolores way must recognize success. Devotees overcame the odds.

—The Goose is Loose ‘Agin!’

Copyright 2000-2006 James Burke

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