Article by Scott Clay

In March of 2002 I became the foreman of Gang 3043 at West Chicago Yard, and soon after Ritchie caught the bid as my machine operator (and eventually became my right hand man). His work ethic was a great motivator. For some reason he liked spiking by hand as opposed to using the hydraulic spiker--and he always got me to grab a maul and join him. No matter how rotten the task at hand or how crummy the weather conditions, he always made the best of it and we had a good time.

Ritchie worked most of the season with me that year until he bid to DeKalb to get closer to home. After a dispute with a supervisor, I eventually bid out to a job in Peoria. I kept in touch with Ritchie even though we weren't working together. Even after he was furloughed, I could usually expect to hear from him at least once a week.

Early in 2003 he caught a bid on the same gang I was working in Peoria, and we were reunited. We worked together until we received our five-day notices that this gang was being eliminated. In the meantime, the supervisor with whom I'd had the disagreement with called me at home to inform me of a vacant foreman position he had coming up at Belvidere, and asked if I would consider coming back. I took the job, and Ritchie went to work on the massive Global III intermodal yard project at Rochelle. Within a couple of months, Ritchie came to Belvidere as my machine operator. After about three months of stories of Chicago and several Thermos bottles of coffee later, he bid to a flagging position at Elburn for the Metra expansion project going on there. This change was short lived, as he ended up becoming the foreman at West Chicago, and because the Belvidere and West Chicago territories are connected we worked together almost daily. As both gangs only consisted of two people, we usually teamed up to perform work in these areas.

About mid August we began a tie renewal project on the Ingallton industrial spur in West Chicago. It's a crummy little piece of track that was once part of the Chicago Great Western mainline and owes its continued existence to the Master Halco Fence Company that receives several loads of lumber weekly. This track had been neglected for too long, and most of the ties had reverted back to the earth. Ballast was almost non-existent, and wide gauge plagued the line. The spur was nearly inaccessible from UP rails--our switch job has to use trackage rights on the Elgin, Joliet & Eastern to gain access. MoW forces have to gain access through the back lot of the fence company.

Our crew consisted of Ritchie, myself and the "two Joes" (Joe H., and Joe L.). When I introduced this story, I mentioned that Ritchie never shied away from a task, no matter how rotten. This was one of those rotten times. The spur is bordered on both sides by dense brush and trees, so you don't get even the slightest breeze to cool you off. Being mid-August, it was real sticky, and we were getting stung constantly as every third tie seemed to contain a large hornet's nest. But we managed to make the best of it and got the job done. Some of my fondest memories of Ritchie are from this time, which is where the accompanying photo was taken.

About halfway through this project, around early September, Ritchie started to take ill. He complained of pressure in his forehead and numbness in the right side of his face, and said he had blurry vision in his right eye. After much prodding by his wife and us, he finally went in to have it checked out, and found out he had a brain tumor above his right eye. As stubborn as he was, he wanted to hold off on the surgery and wait until we were furloughed to have it taken care of so he could finish the work season. Thankfully he decided to schedule his surgery sooner and take a medical leave. He had surgery to remove the tumor in mid-September and made a full recovery. Ritchie was looking forward to returning to work early in 2004.

During this time, we established a routine of where every other Friday I would go to see him after work and fill him in on what was happening "on the property." Then we would usually order some pizza and spend several hours visiting and sometimes play cards. The whole time, his main focus was getting back to work. I never fully realized until after his passing how much he truly loved this job.

In late November I took over the foreman position in Rochelle, and wasn't able to see him as often. Then with the furloughs and people using up their vacation at the end of the year, we were so short-handed that it became impossible to go visit him. But Ritchie was going through a dilemma of his own--on one of his subsequent tests after his surgery it was discovered that he had cancer in his abdomen. He began an intense regiment of radiation and chemotherapy, yet we stayed in contact by phone and he always let me know how things were going. Through all of this, his positive demeanor never changed. He was upbeat as ever, so I figured he had this thing beat cold.

In mid-January I got bumped out of Rochelle and returned to my former position at Belvidere, and began to stop in to see Ritchie again. He continued to paint an optimistic picture concerning his condition. Toward the end of April he planned a vacation to California and informed me he would be returning to work on May 3, and that he was coming to work for me at Belvidere. I was looking forward to having my friend at my side again.

When Ritchie came back to work, he looked pretty rough and had lost a lot of his strength. But he was happy to be back and still tried to work like he had before. But he wore out easily, and sometimes I thought I might have to hold him down to keep him from hurting himself. Although he sometimes resented it, I usually tried to assign him as lookout out of concern for his safety.

A couple of weeks after he returned to work, he dropped a bomb on me one morning. He confided in me that his cancer was not gone and he was terminal. He wasn't going to sit at home and wait for it to happen, he was going to continue to come to work where he was happy. Shortly after this conversation, he began to slide downhill. Friday June 11 rolled around, and Ritchie asked to leave work early because he didn't feel well. The next day he was hospitalized with internal bleeding.

At this point he was given days, maybe weeks to live. He was sent home under the care of hospice nurses, but he refused to believe it was over. Ritchie continued to be optimistic and believed he would beat it, and he still held out hope of eventually regaining his strength and returning to work. During the next several weeks I made every effort I could to visit, even if only briefly. July 15th was the last time I saw him. He was happy, wasn't in any pain, and was busy preparing supper. I visited with him for awhile, then when I had to go he gave me a hug and said "Come by next week, I'd really like to see you one more time." One more time--I never thought about those three words until much later. I believe he had accepted his fate and knew it would be soon. The following week I had to work out of Rochelle, but planned on stopping in on Thursday to see him. On the morning of Thursday, July 22, I received the phone call that Ritchie had passed quietly the evening of the 21. He was laid to rest on July 26 in Elgin, Illinois.

Ritchie was the kind of guy that you either liked or you didn't. He was loud and outspoken, and made some people uncomfortable with his brutal honesty. He lived hard, worked hard, and in the end, fought hard. He was a son, a husband, a father, and he was my friend, and I feel lucky to have known him.

Work safe.

In memory of Richard W. Florczak 1952-2004

About the Author
Scott Clay, 34, was born and raised in Oxnard, CA, and currently resides in Illinois with his wife Anne Marie. He is employed by Union Pacific on the Chicago service unit as a track foreman, and has been with the railroad since 2000. His interest in trains started after a gift of model railroad equipment at age 7, and has since grown from there. Scott Clay is also the moderator of our Union Pacific forum.

The views contained in Track and Time belong solely to the author, and do not represent the views of the Union Pacific Railroad.