The Historic Springfield depot on the White River State Trail
By Chris Brookes
The first railroad line connecting Lake Michigan
and the Mississippi River ran through Springfield, Wis. in 1855.
It was an important stop – not just a jerkwater, whistle stop,
or tank town. A mail route, a retail line for grain, wool, lumber,
milk, and butter, and a passenger stop with a real depot, the hub
of the community until…“FIRE!”
The old wooden building burned down on August 12, 1910, after 55
years of service.
I am the new depot, and I’m 95 years old
now. I’m the Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul (CM&SP)
Depot. For years I weathered under summer sun, seasonal rains, and
winter snows, my paint fading and dust collecting. Robins’
nests bearded my eaves, and raccoon families burrowed below. All
around me the community withered. My vacant windows stared at neglected
tracks tangled with brush and trees. Small critters had the right-of-way
for years. Wildflowers followed the tracks. Warblers whistled instead
of engines. Cows grazed unafraid of the frightful cowcatcher. The
last train passed me by more than 20 years ago.
If my walls could talk—oh, the stories they
could tell! I remember the milk train switching the dairy car to
the siding at Schinke’s creamery, the work train bringing
gandy dancers to level the tracks, the snowplow V-ing through drifts,
and the Kansas City Flyer delivering and picking up mail without
even slowing down. I remember the 12-car derailment dumping grain
and ripping out rails, the 1920 flood that washed away the roadbed,
and the stone tunnel being replaced by the timber bridge. Mostly
I remember the people – the station agent translating the
clicking telegraph into news, baseball scores, and election results,
and the folks coming in daily for that information. The youngsters
waving at the engineer and staring wide-eyed at the circus train.
The whole community gathering to send boys off to war and welcome
them home as men.
My days as a depot ended in the 1950s. The owners
of the feed mill and lumber yard, members of the Schinke family,
bought me, moved me off railroad property, covered my hardwood floors
with linoleum, and ran their businesses from my ticket office for
twenty years. I’ve been sitting here ever since, holding in
all these memories for a new generation. What’s to become
of me? Cleared away as an eyesore, a relic of the past?
Just before the turn of this new century, I knew
something was up. Men and machines tore out the tracks and covered
the roadbed with limestone gravel. People prowled around discussing
location, transportation, regulation, preservation.
Hey, over here! I’m the halfway point on
this stretch. Ride your new-fangled bicycles uphill from here, past
farms and downhill through villages. Listen to the native birdsong
in the country quiet. Go autumn leaf peeping among the hardwoods.
Try mushing a dog sled over the frozen, snowy trail. Travel at a
slower pace and appreciate the scenic surroundings I’ve enjoyed
all these years.
Then come inside. Remember bygone days in Springfield.
I’ve kept the waiting rooms—men’s and women’s—and
agent’s office, the freight room, ticket window, and chalkboard
intact just for you. After 4,000 nails were pulled, my hardwood
floors were revealed. The pot-bellied stoves and telegraph wires
have been removed, but friends, families, and even strangers soon
warm to conversations within my walls. Today you can chat over coffee,
lunch, snacks, or browse through gifts, crafts, railroad memorabilia,
and photos of Springfield history. Where else can folks reclaim
this heritage? The homespun hospitality of Pedal & Cup, owned
by the current generation of Schinkes – Tim and Karen—have
brought business back to Springfield and made me, the 1911 CM&SP
Depot, the connection between past, present, and future along the
White River State Trail. My snazzy coat of red paint makes me feel
young and confident, ready for another century of serving the public.

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