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What happened on the Long Island? Losses ran so high that its owner, the Pennsylvania Railroad, had the road thrown into bankruptcy. Even that brought no outside help. Not until two accidents in a year (1950) killed 109 commuters did New York State decree a twelve-year, $65 million rebuilding program. To give the road money for new equipment and better service, it excused it from all state taxes, many local taxes, allowed it to raise fares at will. The Pennsy agreed to give up for twelve years payments due it on $62 million in Long Island indebtedness. The plan halved the Long Island's tax bill, saves the road $2.3 million a year. President Goodfellow points out that the sum "is almost, but not quite, enough to build one mile of a six-lane expressway on Long Island." Encouraged by such success, New York State is trying partial tax forgiveness for other roads, to the tune of $1.5 million a year.
Break with Tradition. Even given higher fares and tax relief, most U.S. railroads have yet to learn one basic lesson. It is that the transportation industry, in the words of Keneth M. Hoover, chief engineer of the San Francisco's Bay Area Rapid Transit District, "is in the business of selling rides, just as the corn flake business is in the business of selling corn flakes." One man who has learned this lesson well is Ben Heineman, the lawyer turned railroader who is chairman of the Chicago and North Western Railway. Heineman took over a $2 million-to $3 million-a-year money loser in 1956. For the commuter, fares went up, but Heineman gave him better service, more modern equipment. Last year the North Western made about $40,000 profit on commuters, has the healthiest and most promising commuter operation in the U.S.
Last week Heineman announced another step forward: the road will borrow $21 million to replace all the road's remaining obsolete equipment with the most modern equipment available. Says he: "We refused to believe, that the North Western, with the exercise of imagination, couldn't lick this commuting problem. It is our obligation to perform this social function, but just staying in it wasn't enough. We have broken a vicious circle by breaking with tradition." But not even Ben Heineman has been spared the commuter's fondness for taking out all his ills—from a bad breakfast to a grouchy boss—on the railroads. Three months ago, commuters waiting at the North Western's Fort Sheridan station were speechless when a brand-new commuter train pulled in. Like urchins examining a Cadillac, they climbed aboard, bounced on the soft seats, gazed in wonder at the fluorescent lighting. Then the train started, and they noticed that the new type of brake, while safer, had an unfamiliar squeak. Muttered one: "You'd think that they'd have brakes that didn't squeak on equipment as expensive as this." Said another, "Yeah—is that what our last fare increase went for? It's a helluva way to run a railroad." Some roads have actually found that the heart of the commuter can be touched.