First, to explain the term to those not familiar with it: There's much doubt and confusion about this wonderful expression for a member of a track-laying or maintenance crew. It is first recorded in 1918. Since then it has had various slang meanings, including a petty crook or tramp, an Italian, a jitterbug, or a womaniser or active socialite. But the original sense referred to a worker who tamped down the ballast between the ties using a special tool. This involved vigorous stamping on the tool while turning in a circle, an action which might be taken to resemble dancing. The tool was seemingly called a gandy, but where the name came from is a mystery. It would seem it was based on some bit of railway slang now lost to us.

In the summer of 1947, Vinci was pregnant with our first child, and I had just finished my first year at Iowa State University. Vinci was working at the Telephone Company for 35 cents per hour, and I couldn't expect much better at the majority of summer jobs in Ames. It was decided I would take a job as a 'Gandy Dancer' through the summer; I needed a break from school, and the railroad job would start at 87 cents per hour. This would require long days, because I would have to drive about 25 miles each way. I was able to supplement the cost by providing transportation to others taking summer employment with the railroad.

Our first day on the job, we were told that regardless of the weather we should report to work at 8AM, but if it rained we would not work but still get paid. Sounded good, but the sun never went behind a cloud for 90 days. If there was sunscreen in those days, I hadn't heard of it, and I blistered and peeled until there should have been nothing left of my nose and ears. And hot -- it was almost unbearable. One blistering day in July, one of the real 'Gandy Dancers' -- a Mexican -- apparently got drunk during lunch hour, lay down in the sun and passed out. They found him about 5PM, severely sunburned despite his dark complexion.

About a month into the job I got a promotion, operating what they called a ballast machine, which dug out all the rock and earth between the ties, in preparation for adding new material. Except for the heavy dust and additional heat from the machine, this was a Godsend because it paid $1.12 per hour. Another factor in the heat was the drive home aftter work. Our car at the time was a 1934 Studebaker, which had a fibreglas timing gear. I mention this because the fiber portion of the gear would gradually slip on the metal hub, which retarded the timing, finally causing the engine to run hotter. During the evening commute, I would have to change from right to left foot on the accelerator, as it would get so hot I couldn't hold it there very long, and the radiator would be near boiling by the time I reached home. Each evening I would have to pull the distributor, and rotate the distributor gear by one tooth to advance the timing. This would allow us to make the trip again the next day.

Later that year I found a 1935 Hudson Terraplane for $35, but that's another story. I believe I sold the Studebaker for $15. Other than the daily routine with the timing, it served me well throughout the summer, as I never missed a day of work.

I didn't realize it then, but I have paid dearly for that summer in the sun. The Dermatologist told me long ago the early extensive exposure is responsible for all of my skin cancer problems lo these many years. If it could be calculated, I have probably paid him 10 times my income for the entire summer of 1947.

To all young people reading this, take heed, as the sun can be foe as well as friend.

Copyright 2001 H. Thomas Flanagan