As I was staring out the window of this old side tracked Pullman railcar gazing over the panoramic Mars type landscape of Carrizo Gorge, Cookie came out of the galley and asked me what I wanted for breakfast with his Brooklyn accent. I said bacon & eggs over easy with plain bread would be fine thanks. He said it will only be a minute and I'll even join you. A short time later Cookie came out with a warm plate of bacon and eggs with bread just as I asked for. As he leaned over to place the plate on the table his greasy sweatshirt lifted away from his belly and I couldn't help notice what looked like a number of old bullet holes healed over in his stomach. Hummm, I thought maybe they were wounds from WWII and maybe he would talk about himself during breakfast. How wrong could I be!
  After recently reading an article about the possibilities of re-opening Carrizo Gorge my thoughts wandered back into the mid fifties when I was attending Vocational School as an apprentice plumber. The setting was at the old four story red brick Industrial vocational building on the corner of Union and Market Street downtown San Diego. Many of the men attending the school were Korean Veterans being trained as tradesmen on their G. I. Bill.  There were many characters of other status that were also attending, some of whom were of dubious character.
  I became acquainted with one fellow I'll call Willy who had been working for the San Diego & Arizona Eastern Railroad at Carrizo Gorge Repair Facility just outside of Jacumba, a town of about 200 folks at that time. The old Barbara Worth Hotel was still in one piece and even had a few customers. A sleepy little town that claimed healing waters that flowed from a sulfur spring.  They also had an old gas station with a wooden pump handle as many of you remember grabbing the handle to pump the gasoline into an upper measuring tank with as much gasoline as you wanted to pay for, then placing the nozzle in your gas tank emptying that amount. I remember the wooden  handle because it broke off in my hands just as it filled to my amount. The wood had rotted at the stem.
  One evening during school and during a 15 minute break, Willy was chatting about his past work on the San Diego & Arizona Eastern Railroad at Carrizo Gorge. I was fascinated with his story about repairing the tunnels and the type of work he did on the long curving trestles that spanned the gorge. I mention to him "I sure would like to visit and explore the area some time." He said  "I'll take you up there this weekend and even introduce you to some of the workers."  Being a back country explorer I told him "I would really enjoy that."
  The following weekend we headed for Jacumba in my old 38 Ford Deluxe four door sedan with the "suicide

doors."  We finally reached the town of Jacumba, then we headed north from town into the gorge area on a winding dirt road. I was awed at the rock formations and the desolation of the gorge. It was a beautiful spring day and some wild flowers were in full bloom.
  We came to the side track where the old Pullman Coach was parked and we got out. A fellow, Willy called Cookie came to the door and waved at us to come on in, good to see you again Willy. You guys have breakfast yet?  No, and we're sure hungry after that long trip up here. We stepped up into the well-kept coach with a galley. This was where the workers lived, slept, and ate during the week. All of them except cookie remained behind. It was so desolate I just assumed Cookie liked the deafening quiet up here and all alone.
  Cookie came out of the galley and asked us what we wanted for breakfast? I couldn't help notice his Brooklyn accent. I said bacon and eggs over easy with plain bread would be fine thanks. He said it will only be a minute and I'll even join you. A short time later Cookie came out with warm plates of bacon and eggs with bread just as I asked for. As he leaned over to place the plate on the table his greasy sweatshirt lifted away from his belly and I couldn't help notice what looked like a number of old bullet holes that were healed over on his hairy belly. Hummm, I thought maybe they were wounds from WWII and maybe he would talk about himself during breakfast.
  As it turned out he was anxious to hear all about ourselves but held back on discussing himself at all. That was OK with me since I was anxious to get trekking into the gorge to do some exploring. We finished our breakfast and thanked Cookie for his hospitality. He waved us off and we headed into the gorge. After about a mile trekking down the roadbed Willy talked about some of the history of the rail line within the gorge and how he came to work there.
  I asked him about Cookie and what looked like old bullet holes in his stomach. Willy said your right he did get shot, but not in any army . . . he was a past member of the infamous Al Capone Gang that got caught in a shootout. He was wounded, found a doctor and was on the lam until he could quietly slip out of town and hide from it all. He found his way to California and Jacumba. He hired on as a cook and this became a perfect place of refuge from those who wanted to kill him in Brooklyn.
  We both quietly trudged on, passing through tunnel after tunnel, #15 being one of the longest.  We both rested at the head of the incredible curving Carrizo Gorge Trestle in silent wonderment of it all.  Suddenly it dawned on me that I had just been fed breakfast by a gang member of Al Capone.