Day 129 - Subway Story

Subway Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

Martin’s favorite subway line in Los Angeles was the Red Line. There were several reasons for that – the neighborhoods that it went through, the interesting design of the stations, the art projects in the underground stations and above at the various landmarks, and mostly because it was an actual underground rail system. There were several rail lines in L.A. and some of them had a station or two underground, but none were built entirely underground. There was actually the Purple Line, but Martin could remember when that was still considered part of the Red Line, so he didn’t really count that as being separate. In his mind, if a subway line used the same cars and went to the exact same stations and stops and at one point had actually been a branch of the Red Line, then it could hardly be considered a separate subway line. But even if he was willing to concede that the Purple Line was an actual underground rail system, he still thought the Red Line was better. It just was. It had better stations and better neighborhoods and a better history.

It had been ridiculously expensive to dig the Red Line. And all things considered, it didn’t really go that many places. Martin remembered reading that at one point it was the most expensive subway line ever built. He was sure that wouldn’t last, inflation and building costs would see to that. But still, it was a massive undertaking, with many delays and failures and various geotechnical difficulties along the way, and yet, it had still somehow managed to be built. The Northridge earthquake couldn’t end it. Politicians couldn’t end it. Methane gas explosions couldn’t end it. It was the subway line that didn’t know how to quit. In a city of cars and highways and traffic congestion, someone had decided to build a pointless subway system, and they did. Some said it didn’t go anywhere. Some said it wasn’t functional and that the citizens would never go for it. But public works were public works and need and logic and functionality weren’t always the main goal.

One nice goal appeared to have been to connect tourist travel locations and various arts districts with Union Station, the major transit hub in downtown. For that goal alone, it was worth all the effort. A visitor to the city could have a real nice time seeing (some) of the sites of Los Angeles.

Martin played guitar, but he preferred the banjo or the ukulele. He was a street musician hobbyist, never getting the required permit to panhandle in public. It didn’t matter that much, he never made enough through playing to come anywhere close to being a professional or needing the requisite paperwork. One nice thing about the Red Line was that it had stations underground that were not the most heavily patrolled subway stations in the world. He could play, ride the rails to another location and play some more and almost never be stopped or questioned by security or the police. It was a fun way to spend an afternoon and a fairly good way to stay impoverished.

It had been said that the banjo and ukulele were happy instruments and that even the saddest of lyrics came out sounding happy when accompanied by them. Martin didn’t believe that. He set out to prove just how very sad they could be. There was, of course, hardly any money in writing morose and depressing banjo songs, but he was hardly making any money before, so that didn’t really matter to him. To him, the important part was the goal and the attempt to get there. It was a diversionary tactic to keep his hobby going.

It should be noted that “Dueling Banjos” is perhaps the most depressing banjo song of them all, but that really comes more from its association with the movie “Deliverance” and less to do with the fact that the song is actually sad. The song is really rather energetic and happy sounding, but the connotation of backwoods rape certainly soiled the song’s impact and reputation.  

Martin recorded his own version of “Dueling Banjos” without permission from its creator, much as the movie had done. Martin felt it only right to also not ask for permission. He didn’t know if he could really do the song any more harm than had already been done, but doubted his version would do it any good. Martin was pretty sure he was the only person in L.A. to be performing a punk-goth version of “Dueling Banjos” at various subway stations. It was not a stunning success.