A Vintage RR Depot Bench turned Cookie Cooling Station, Donated to the City History Museum – Now on Stop Over at Local Bank

An Unexpected Journey took a vintage Union Pacific and Frisco railroad depot bench to a temporary destination as a cookie cooling station, where it was rerouted to the City of Pacific History Museum. It is now on a stop over in the lobby of a local bank a few hundred yards from its original location.

Christina Borcherding, made her father-in-law Brian Borcherding, who now resides at Pacific Care Center, two promises. She promised him she would stay in the house and take care of him as long as he lived there. And that she would make sure that the railroad depot bench that had occupied the front porch of his house for more than 40 years would be returned to the City of Pacific for the museum it plans to install in the Red Cedar Inn.

The sturdy wooden bench, now shows the scuffs and scars of a long life. It sat at the center of the Pacific Depot that served both the Union Pacific and Frisco railroads for who knows how long.

Don Brocato remembers it well. His grandfather’s grocery and produce store stood about a city block from the station on the south side of the railroad tracks. As a preteen boy he was in the station every day. “It was a great place to hang out.” He said.

He recalls there were actually two wooden benches. They stood back to back in the center of the lobby. That’s where people sat as they waited for the train. “A lot of people sat on that bench,” Don said.

But Young Brocato’s interest was drawn to the two dispatchers stationed at opposite ends of the depot. Chick Sally was the Frisco telegrapher and Fred Dickey operated the telegraph for the Missouri Pacific (later Union Pacific). The two were always there clicking away at their Morse Code keys, sending and receiving train schedules and telegrams. The railroad telegraph office was the original public communications center of the town and the two telegraphers entertained a never ending group of visitors, eager for a clue of what was happening in the other towns along the rail lines.

Don also remember Vernon Borcherding, “an outside man,” who had the job of maintaining the switches, that enabled the trains to switch from one track to another or onto a siding. “He was a big shot,” Don recalled. 

“In all likelihood he was a tower operator, who would have remotely thrown the switches for the movements of trains,” said local railroad guru Jim Schwinkendorf.  This was pretty serious stuff. The switches had to be thrown in exact sequences, as they were interlocked by a mechanism in the tower to avoid conflicting train movements.

This would involve – locking certain switches – unlocking certain other switches – changing their positions – locking them back up – and finally giving a train an appropriate signal to proceed through the plant.  

“Do it wrong and out of sequence, and the plant would lock up.” Jim said. “The operator would have to ‘run time,’ a mechanical timer with a knob that would not unlock the plant until the plant timed out and was released (unlocked), and then he was able to do things right!!!!!” 

“All of this was to ensure the safe movement of trains where it was possible to have a collision or route a train the wrong way,” Jim said. “To me, being an operator held more responsibility for the individual, and he lined his plant for train movements at the direction of a train dispatcher or other operating supervisor.”

The stately brick railroad station – south of St. Louis Street and east of First Street – was easily the most prominent and the busiest building in town, when 40 or 50 passenger trains a day eased up to the entrances on each side of the station. The Missouri Pacific trains stopped on the north side of the building, Frisco passengers boarded or disembarked on the south side. 

When the Missouri Pacific decided to tear down the landmark building in 1977, Borcherding was allowed to take one of the wooden lobby benches as a memento.

He took it to his house at 3101 West Osage where it sat on the front porch for more than four decades. Local residents recall the bench, especially at Christmas time when it was loaded with fresh baked cookies. Vernon’s wife Marge was a marathon Christmas cookie baker. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, the aroma of fresh baked cookies wafted from the bench where Marge had set them to cool.

After both Vernon and Marge passed away, their won Brian lived in these and kept his eye on the bench.  He always said it needed to go back to the City.

“He said that was where it belonged,” his daughter-in-law said.

Pat Dubuque at First State Community Bank overheard a conversation that the bench had been donated to the City but there was no place to store it until the museum opens in 2022. She quickly volunteered to have it stored in the bank lobby.

“It was a wonderful feeling for my son and me to get the bench back to the City,” Christina said. “We look forward to seeing it on display in the Red Cedar museum when it opens.”