Guitars, model trains and the mafia

“I almost forgot my fatherly duties,” our son David said as he brought a huge, black garbage bag into the living room. An hour later, the bag bulged with bows and wrapping paper, but the piece de resistance came when Amy, our daughter-in-law, disappeared into their bedroom and came down the hall carrying an unwrapped electric guitar. She brought one finger up to her lips and leaned it beside the Christmas tree where Sam, our grandson, couldn’t see it.
When she escorted Sammy around the tree, he paused for a nano second in disbelief, but it took only a few more seconds for him to pick up the guitar and start strumming.
“It was your guitar teacher’s idea,” Amy said. “She called to tell me guitars were half price and then went with me to pick out the best one.”
Sam, 14 with a mop of curly brown hair and a huge smile, is now as tall as Ted. The rest of Christmas Day, he serenaded us with rock ‘n roll tunes, Christmas songs, and even, “Take Me Home, Country Roads.”
I don’t know if David, who’s always had a sensitive ear for music, was grateful that the cord for the amplifier was missing, but I could tell the greatest present he and Amy received was Sam’s joy in his gift. That evening he told them, “This is the best Christmas ever!”
I agreed. Busy but best. A few days before Christmas, Ted, Kenidee, and I had traveled to St. George to spend time with our family there, including our children, grandchildren, niece, and great niece. Then, on the 23rd, we started toward Lee’s Summit, MO, located in the infamous Jackson County, to celebrate Christmas with David’s family, and if wrapping paper was an indication, it was a blow-out success.
The day after Christmas, with all the paper safely tucked in the dumpster, the missing amplifier cord was easily remedied by a trip to Sam’s guitar teacher.
Then, since David had to work, the rest of us decided to brave downtown Kansas City and visit the KC Union Station where we’d heard they had a model train display, always a magnet for Ted who loves trains. I have to admit, I was leery of the Kansas City metropolitan area and not just because of the traffic.
As a teenager, I’d often heard terrifying stories about crimes perpetrated by the KC crime family, also known as the KC Mafia. It began in 1912 when two DiGiovanni brothers bolted from Sicily and made their way to Kansas City where they set up operations. Unfortunately, years later, the Union Station came in for its share of Mafia-related violence.
The Union Station opened in 1914, its classical Beaux-Arts architecture designed by Jarvis Hunt, but it was functional as well as beautiful. In its heyday, nearly 80,000 trains passed through it annually with tracks connecting it to every part of the nation.
However, in 1933, an attack occurred, one that changed the way the FBI operated. Outside the station, the Mafia machinegunned four law officers, including one FBI agent, while they were escorting Frank Nash to the U.S. penitentiary in Leavenworth. They also killed Nash.
At the time, FBI agents did not carry weapons. The KC Massacre, as it’s known, was complicated and controversial with some experts thinking the attack occurred not to free Nash, but to silence him because of his extensive underworld contacts. A year later, because of the deaths, Congress authorized the FBI’s right to bear arms.
None of that was on our minds, though, as we filed into the Union Station along with dozens of other families. The building was all decked out for the holidays, but it hadn’t always been so magnificent. Train traffic decreased after WWII, and by the 70’s, the station, mostly abandoned, had fallen into disrepair. Finally, in 1996, the city decided to renovate it to the tune of 250 million dollars.
The renovated version features 850,000 square feet, tiled in marble, with the Great Hall’s ceiling topping out at 95 feet and decorated with three 3,500 pound chandeliers.
In addition to being an actual train station for Amtrak passengers, it now houses a number of family attractions, including the hands-on Science City, shops, restaurants, theaters, a planetarium, the KC ballet, and the model train gallery. The train displays, built by volunteers, feature eight scales from the tiny Z to the large G, with 80 trains running simultaneously.
Amy, Sam, and I paused by the miniature worlds, plotted to look like Kansas and Missouri landscapes except some gnomes had been placed on bridges or by cows. One display even included a tiny drive-in theater with cars lined up to watch the screen.
Sam worried about losing his granddad who kept on keeping on, photographing display after display, but we eventually caught up with him after we exited the gallery. I have to admit, with the lights, the beauty of the station, and the model train displays, it was as close to magic as I’ve come in a long time.
Later, after we returned to Blanding, I thought about the different concepts of families. Although the KC Mafia still operates some businesses, both in KC and Las Vegas, its numbers have dwindled. What a different experience those “made” members have compared to a normal family, even with all its issues, bound together by love and sacrifice. This year, one sacrifice for Sam’s family included the gift of an electric guitar—and amplifier.