Dirty Dougherty

Dougherty, Oklahoma, beautiful and quiet. 

In my thirty-eight years of railroading I worked thirteen different jobs as I climbed the corporate ladder and then climbed back down. The Santa Fe Railroad had some interesting and unique people take part in making it a proud and successful entity and I have had the privilege of knowing many of them. They range from Gandy Dancers to Presidents.

One such person was Don Flick. Don worked for me as a Gandy Dancer (Trackman) on several of my gangs in Texas and Oklahoma back in the mid 1970's. On the railroad Don was known as Dirty Dougherty as very few railroaders were called by their actual name. The Dougherty part was because he was from Dougherty, Oklahoma. The Dirty part, well, you only had to see him to understand that part. It wasn't that he had bad hygiene. He would arrive for work every morning clean and most presentable. But, after he had worked no longer than fifteen minutes or so he would have become one with the dirt, grease and creosote associated with the work he was performing. He got close to his work.

Don was a heck of a man in his younger days. He stood six feet six inches tall and weighed three hundred plus pounds and by his own admission had weighed as much as four hundred and fifty pounds. He had bright red curly hair that came down to his shoulders. His full beard was very full and very red.

He had full red eye brows and there wasn't much space between his eye brows and his hairline. I can recall the first time I worked with Don. He had already been given the Dirty Dougherty tag but I didn't know how well he accepted that name so I called him Don when addressing him directly. Then, after he had been with my gang for several days it happened. We were having a particularly tuff day and I turned to Don and said, "Damn it Dirty Dougherty get over here and give us a hand." As soon as it came out of my mouth I realized this might not be good. There was silence for what seemed like an eternity as Don slowly turned and walked toward me.

I know you have seen these outdoor adventure movies when the star is approached by this huge Grizzly Bear and as the Grizzly gets close he rares up on his back legs and looks like he is ten feet tall. That's the feeling I had. He walked up to me and gave me what I felt was a chilling glare. Then he said, "That would be Mr. Dirty Dougherty to you" and a big ole smile came across his face. That was the day we became friends.

One evening I was home with the family in Cleburne, Texas, as I was fortunate to be working in the Cleburne area for a while. There was a heavy knock at the front door and before I could get out of my easy-chair my three year old daughter, Shanon, ran over and opened the door. Her mouth fell open and the color left her face as she stepped back, pointed and said, "Sasquatch." I swooped her up in my arms and peered around the door. It was Dirty Dougherty.

He had dropped by to let me know that he wasn't going to be at work the next day account having to go home to Dougherty and take care of some family business. I invited him in for a glass of tea. That evening I saw another side of Don as he talked to and held my daughter as they laughed and he held Shanon's favorite doll. It was amazing to see this huge man setting there talking in a childish manner and showing a softness that seemed perfectly natural to him.

In September 1976 my gang had moved to Wayne, Oklahoma where we were inserting a few new ties into the track. I had visions of moving up into a management position in the Safety Department and this was an important day in that quest. The head safety guy of Santa Fe and the Assistant General Manager of Safety were going to come by and visit with my gang and me. I had informed those on the gang of the visit and asked them to work safely, do their jobs well and that I wasn't concerned about anything and they shouldn't be either.

The dignitaries arrived shortly after lunch and we were walking through the worksite when the Director of Safety said to me, "Shouldn't you have two men carrying a tie?" I turned and there was Dirty Dougherty carrying a two hundred plus pound tie under one arm.

I hollered to him, "Say Don, let's double up on them ties!"

He responded, "I gotcha Boss, sorry about that."

We continued our walk though the work site and as we turned to walk back, there comes Dirty Dougherty with a crosstie under each arm and a big ole smile on his face. You got to love him.

He's gone now. I miss Don Flick. May he rest in peace.