Mrs. Phil Dunning, Jr., daughter of the roundhouse foreman and later master mechanic A.E. "Wink" Edwards, tells the story of one of the more outlandish episodes of shop tomfoolery:

"Roy Dickerson" suns himself at his final home in Montgomery's Oak Park. Credit: Old Alabama Rails Collection

"Of course they had an alligator there. There was a little round fountain that had a little wrought iron fence around it. Somebody brought that thing over there—I don’t know who it was—and put it in there. And then it got to where they had a real hard time with it escaping, and they named it Roy Dickerson. Roy Dickerson was a famous prisoner who was great at escaping back in those days. Well, after he had escaped quite a few times and had gotten up close to town and scared the daylights out of people and somebody called the police and the police knew where it came from. They’d call the shops and somebody would go over there, lasso him, put him in something and bring him back. Well, it reached a stage where the police told Daddy, ‘You’re going to have to get rid of him.’ So Daddy went down to see the mayor. Now we lived right across from Oak Park. Daddy told him what we really needed over there is to put an alligator pond, and he would donate the first alligator. Well, he talked him into it and old Roy was the first one in there, and they got quite a few more."

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The following is from a letter written by Mrs. Phil Dunning (Cecil) about the two photographs accompanying this story:

The snapshot of “Roy Dickerson,” the alligator, was taken by my husband, Phil, in Oak Park, Montgomery, Al., in March 1942. Ol’ Roy is beside the alligator pond that was built after my father donated him to the City, and his “wandering days” were over. Thank Goodness!

The other one is not in good condition and was cut out of the Western R.R. magazine [The Courier]. That’s my Dad when he was still the Roundhouse foreman at the Western shops. My sister is on Dad’s right and the smaller “tow-headed kid” on Dad’s left is me. This was in July 1926.

Dad is wearing a “straw skimmer” in this pic. In case you aren’t familiar with this type hat, and most young people nowadays aren’t, it’s a flat top, flat brim hat. It is like the one that Ol’ Roy crushed with one bite when Dad leaned over his little pool at the Shops one Easter afternoon and the skimmer fell off. My mother, sister, and I thought it was hilarious. Daddy didn’t!! That happened around 1930.

Here’s a story told by Mr. Harold Royster, policeman for the railroad, about Charles Wickersham, president of the WofA/A&WP from 1900-1947: "Once when I was brand new on the job, the 99 came in and directly I saw this old man walking around the yards with his hands behind his back. Just wandering around the yards. I walked up to him and said, ‘Old man, you gotta git yo butt outta here.’ The man looked at me and said, ‘Son, I’m Charles Wickersham.’ I replied, ‘Yeah, and I’m President Roosevelt. You gotta get movin’.’

"Wickersham said, ‘Let me show you my card.’ So he showed me his pass, and I said, ‘Sir, you can go anywhere you want to!’

"Later I was wondering if I was gonna get paid back for saying what I said. But again when I was walking the yards and saw Mr. Wickersham sitting on the deck of the 99 [one of the WofA's office cars], he called me over. He called to his aide, and said, ‘Andre, bring this young man some of those cold grapes out of the refrigerator. He’s been working hard in that hot sun.’

"That was a Monday, and on Friday I had to go to Atlanta. I got called in to the superintendent, not knowing what he wanted. Mr. Wickersham was there and he handed me a letter of commendation for taking care of the yards and offered me a box of Havana cigars, saying, ‘Don’t be shy, take a handful!'

Mr. Royster passed away on November 12, 2000.

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