Along The Path
©2025, George J. Irwin. All rights reserved.

The present location at which Colleen and I live is the farthest distance from which I have lived from an active railroad line. While in the city where I was born, I was across the street from the Harsimus Cove freight line of the then-Pennsylvania and Penn Central to the waterfront of Jersey City... now just a memory and a disputed bit of real estate. During my time in the suburbs, we were about two blocks from a freight and former passenger line that is probably more active at this writing than it was then, although it’s taken on the unflattering but accurate name of the Chemical Coast Line. When I moved up here, my first floor apartment window looked out on a "running track" that served a generating station but was once part of the Rome, Watertown and Ogdensburg, also as the "Hojack" for reasons that have never been clear. Big diesels would come by in the middle of the night with long drags of coal filled open hoppers, loud enough that it seemed like they were coming right through the bedroom. I suppose I should have been concerned about the possibility of a derailment, which might have put one of those loaded hoppers in my bedroom.

The first house I owned was, as the crow flies, just about a kilometer from the main line through Rochester, known as the Water Level Route after the name it carried while part of the New York Central Railroad. ("Water Level," by the way, does not mean "flat.") It wasn’t within sight but it was within hearing range; if the wind was even somewhat right I could hear the growls of diesels pulling freight and Amtrak passenger trains through town.

After my first marriage fell apart, I spent I few years in an apartment from which I could barely see a bypass single track line that avoided Rochester. It was and is known as the "West Shore," which makes no sense at all until you know the history: it was part of the New York, West Shore and Buffalo. The "West Shore" was with respect to the Hudson River, whereas the New York Central had the east shore of the Hudson locked up. The West Shore was an attempt by the arch-rival Pennsylvania Railroad to invade the Central’s territory. The Central retaliated by starting a line deep into the Pennsylvania’s home state. That near-war was put to a stop by one James Pierpont Morgan, and the Central wound up with the West Shore. Parts of it are still operated, though none farther west than the bypass that ran past where I was temporarily located.

And that leads to where Colleen and I are now. After she moved in with me we knew we needed a house, however modest. Following a search we purchased a property with most of the features we wanted, but at somewhat of a cost: it was more than a mile and a half away from trains. That closest line was again the Water Level Route, but this time the wind has to be really right for us to hear the familiar sound of diesels. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss being nearer to trains other than the model ones in the basement. A mile and a half probably seems like nothing for many railfans, I’ll admit.

But note: I said "active railroad line." Throw out the word "active" and I’ve never been closer.

The Rochester and Sodus Bay Railway was organized in 1898 to connect its two namesake locations with what is more properly known as an interurban but would be more commonly called a trolley. The western end of the venture took advantage of an already existing line which served the Glen Haven Amusement Park on the west side of Irondequoit Bay. The R&SB was completed in 1900, mostly following the old Ridge Road which itself followed a Native American trail. Roads in the neighborhood where we now live, if they existed at all, were not paved, but the coming of the trolley meant the building of houses along and near the right of way. Then the coming of the automobile meant the end of trolleys (although the purchase of many lines across the country by bus companies, fronted by automobile manufacturers, hastened this decline). The Rochester and Sodus Bay’s full run ended in June, 1929, with the line cut back to only local service west of Irondequoit Bay. The last run of what was still known as "The Glen Haven Line" was on the evening of July 19, 1933. By then only a few people patronized the forlorn trolleys. Busses replaced them and the line was quickly torn up.

That’s not the end of the story. Much of the former Glen Haven Line was repurposed or reclaimed by nature. But a small section of the right of way, spanning the distance between two main roads in our neighborhood, was purchased by the local electric utility for use carrying power lines. And part of that section runs right behind our present residence. It no longer carries trollies, of course, but plays host to dog walkers, people out for a stroll, children playing, and a small variety of wildlife such as birds, squirrels, outdoor cats, and the occasional deer. Well, there is also a particularly annoying and aggressive weed—the likes of which I have only seen along railroad property, in use or abandoned—with which we’ve done battle each year. So far, it is holding its own despite our efforts, and encouraged by the lack of effort of a certain local utility, which only mows the path twice a season at best. It’s left to residents to keep the trolley path navigable, and we and our neighbors, on this block anyway, do what we can.

I own two books on the subject: Trolleys to Glen Haven by Charles R. Lowe and Rochester and Sodus Bay Railway Company 1889 to 1929: The Royal Blue Line by William R. Gordon. Among the photos in the books are those taken within feet of our residence, one of which shows houses that still stand across the street. (But not ours, as it was built some twenty years after the trolley line’s demise.) Some street signs in the neighborhood include the depiction of the front of a blue trolley car atop the street name. I wonder how many other residents understand the reference.

So while this is the farthest I’ve ever lived to an active rail line, it’s the closest I’ve ever lived to any rail line at all, past or present. It doesn’t take much for me, standing on the path behind the backyard, to imagine trolleys plying the tracks toward Glen Haven and beyond.

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