Delectations

Imagine yourself in the happy position of stepping out onto the platform at Los Angeles Union Passenger Terminal or Dearborn Station in Chicago. Stretched before you is a long streak of silver, glimmering with allure in the half-light of dusk. The windows of bedrooms and roomettes glow cozily, promising rest and comfort, a home away from home. Up ahead multiple diesel units, anxious to be off across the continent, chant impatiently. You pass by Pullmans—Pine Beach, Indian Squaw, Regal Court—until you reach your own. At the vestibule is your porter, resplendent in dark-blue livery, ready to show you to your bedroom. Once aboard, you soon feel a gentle tug signaling the beginning of your 2,222 mile journey through the infinite variety of America.

This is the Santa Fe’s Super Chief, a train worth talking about. It is clean, impeccably maintained, well-staffed and equipped in the grand manner through which it originally gained its fame.

KZ

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Karl R. Zimmermann

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Imagine yourself in the happy position of stepping out onto the platform at Los Angeles Union Passenger Terminal or Dearborn Station in Chicago. Stretched before you is a long streak of silver, glimmering with allure in the half-light of dusk. The windows of bedrooms and roomettes glow cozily, promising rest and comfort, a home away from home. Up ahead multiple diesel units, anxious to be off across the continent, chant impatiently. You pass by Pullmans—Pine Beach, Indian Squaw, Regal Court—until you reach your own. At the vestibule is your porter, resplendent in dark-blue livery, ready to show you to your bedroom. Once aboard, you soon feel a gentle tug signaling the beginning of your 2,222 mile journey through the infinite variety of America.

This is the Santa Fe’s Super Chief, a train worth talking about. It is clean, impeccably maintained, well-staffed and equipped in the grand manner through which it originally gained its fame.