In 1961, They were barely old enough to drive, but Robby’s Grandpa had just given him a ‘49 Chevy for his 17th birthday. Robby was thrilled to take his friends wherever they wanted to go.
Less than a block away from their high school, Franklin Central, was a railroad track. Trains would come and go early in the morning and late at night, waking the families that lived close. And sometimes, the trains would pass in the afternoons distracting students from their studies, and keeping people from getting home a little bit faster after school and work days were over.
One Wednesday afternoon on the way home from school, Billy crammed four of his friends into that little red Chevy and they headed home for supper. They sang and laughed as they listened to Patsy Cline and Chubby Checker on the radio, As the chorus of “Crazy” played, a train barreled down the tracks.
The train’s horn sounded, and the tracks rattled. Robby stopped and looked both ways, but it was too late. The train’s impact tore the clothes off of each one of them; stripped of their lives too soon. They never had the chance to move past that railroad and follow their dreams. Fifty-six years later, five crosses, one for each of those kids headed home in the red ‘49 Chevy, still stand tall along the railroad at the crossing of Franklin Road and Edgewood Avenue.