“All along the southbound odyssey, the train pulled out of Kankakee and rolls along past houses, farms and fields. Passin’ trains that have no names and freight yards full of old black men and the graveyards of rusted automobiles.”

Inspired while riding on an Illinois Central train from Chicago to Mattoon, Illinois, Steve Goodman wrote the song “City of New Orleans,” chronicling a daylong rail journey from Chicago to New Orleans.

The train, originally known as the City of New Orleans, was a daytime route started in 1947 as a companion to the Panama Limited (in existence since 1911). As an overnight train, the Panama Limited pulled Pullman sleeper cars, while the City of New Orleans handled only coach passengers. In 1971, Amtrak took over passenger operations from the Illinois Central, combining both services (pulling both coach and sleeper cars) into a single overnight run. Because it was an overnight train, leaving Chicago around 8 p.m., this hybrid retained the moniker of Panama Limited — thus retiring the City of New Orleans label. However, in 1981, some say as a publicity grab to capitalize on the popularity of Arlo Guthrie’s version of Goodman’s song, Amtrak revived the City of New Orleans name and retired the Panama Limited. That ends your history lesson for today, boys and girls (keep your notes…there might be a quiz).

Although the City of New Orleans originates in Chicago, my travelling companion and I considered ourselves purists and opted to travel by rail from the Center of the Universe to Union Station in Chicago — boarding the train at the historic Michigan Central Railroad Depot. This magnificent stone edifice, built in 1892 (sorry — guess the history lesson wasn’t quite over), is considered by many to be the architectural crown jewel of the former Michigan Central Railroad. Built in an inspiring Romanesque style and beautifully reminiscent of the by-gone days of rail travel our station was featured in several movies, such as “Continental Divide,” “Midnight Run,” and “Only the Lonely.” It still serves the Wolverine and Blue Lake trains (originating in Dearborn and Port Huron, Michigan, respectfully). While both trains are a somewhat cost-effective mode of transportation for getting folks from one place to another (and back again), they offer little in creature comfort, nostalgic appeal, or timeliness. They are just uncomfortable, crowded boxes on rails — with a propensity for running late.

The Union Station in Chicago is a beautiful and iconic beaux-arts structure, taking up more than nine city blocks on the west side of the Chicago River. Most of it is underground, beneath skyscrapers, city streets, and angry cabbies locked in mortal duels with Uber drivers. Opened in 1925 (uh-oh…more history), the Headhouse is centered around the Great Hall — a cavernous atrium, topped with a 110 foot-high barrel-vaulted skylight ceiling. Surprisingly, it is sparsely furnished with, perhaps, a dozen rows of wooden benches (possibly original equipment from 1925 — this will not be on your test). I chose a spot near the center of the hall, sat on one of the antique benches and marveled at the size and majesty of the space. I gazed in awe at the grand staircase and recalled a great scene from the movie “The Untouchables.” However, my biggest reaction came when I realized how many people were not “worshiping” with me in this Cathedral of the Rail. At one point, this massive hall must have been the pinch point of all rail travel in the Midwest, with thousands of travelers ebbing and flowing across its marble floors, daily. These days, the primary use of the Great Hall is for people taking selfies.

Although the Great Hall is no longer the main waiting room for arrivals and departures, the real action is on a lower level, in another large (but completely uninspiring) space. This area is not glamorous, has no take-your-breath-away architectural features and is furnished with hard plastic seating modules arranged to function (deceptively) as cattle pens. It is a cold, austere space, with the ambiance and aroma of a 1970s’ era Trailways bus station in Cheyenne, Wyoming.

The announcement came a short time before departure, signaling my traveling companion and me to board the train, claim our seats and casually head for the upper-level observation car to enjoy a couple of adult beverages while watching the sunset over the Illinois prairie. Soon after, the City of New Orleans was chugging along the southbound track — and we were along for the ride.

Larry Wilson is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His essays stem from experiences, compilations and recollections from friends and family. He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.