Most investment professionals have no free time after work and family. However, some of us do. We may be retired, unemployed, or promoted to portfolio manager (which, as we all know, takes very little time and does not over-tax the intelligence). We are fortunate to be securities analysts because we get paid nicely for doing the most interesting job on the planet. So, it only seems fair that if we get some free time, we pick one of the millions of personally satisfying opportunities for community service.

One way to contribute is to be a trustee of a non-profit organization. Some people do this merely to get their name in the annual report, and if you donate a few thousand dollars a year, everybody thinks it is fine. The real fun, however, is getting involved in the operations of the institution. Some organizations are easier to move into than others, but most are short on skilled management and all need money. The Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago, where I am a trustee, is willing to listen to outsiders. They classify trustees’ ideas as either good or great. A good idea is one that will make the museum more interesting. A great idea is a good idea accompanied by a check to pay for it.

Museums, colleges, and hospitals are always hoping for very large checks (and if you can provide such support, I hope you will). But if you happen to be in the pre-billionaire stage of your career, you can still participate by targeting small projects. For instance, my first gift to the museum was a few additional benches. The latest project was not expensive but really fun.

For 47 years, the museum has had a magnificent steam locomotive inside the Transportation Exhibit. The museum decided to put a mannequin inside the cab of the locomotive to represent the engineer, and by the adroit use of a moderate contribution, my son got me the job. First, I was plunked down in a chair (while my children and grandchildren watched) and had a rubber mask of my face made. A few weeks later I was offered a chance to record an audio script to give the dummy a voice. I soon realized that this created much more of a project than just posing for a mask. To be able to talk convincingly, I had to know everything there was to know about the engineer, the history of the New York Central System, and what it was like to drive a steam locomotive.

How do you find out interesting information about the life of a long-dead working-class employee of a bankrupt and vanished railroad? The same way a financial analyst researches anything else: Read documents and newspaper reports, take field trips, and talk to industry experts. Then use your judgment to correct typos and errors, fill in missing material with reasonable guesses, and make a coherent story.

The engineer’s name was Charles H. Hogan. The basic life story of Charlie Hogan is straight forward. Born in 1850 near Batavia, New York, Charlie went to work for a predecessor of the New York Central railroad system when he was 14 years-old, and, except for four early years on the Union Pacific, continued to do so until his death in 1939. Imagine a career of 75 years of service in one company! That might not be a world record, but one world record he surely set was in May 1893 when, as the engineer of the Empire State Express, he broke the speed barrier of 100 miles per hour for the first time in human history. That is why his locomotive is a prized artifact at the museum.

Engineer Hogan made his record run at age 43, having been a locomotive engineer for 25 years. He was asked about his early memories by a reporter from The Buffalo News. The newspaper story said that his strongest memory was that of meeting Abraham Lincoln in 1864. Of course, I was very excited to read this, because a link to Lincoln would add enormous interest to my audio script. The Lincoln story needed more detail, so I tried to find additional information about how this meeting occurred. There were no other mentions of Charlie meeting Lincoln in any other writings. In 1864, Charlie was only 14, and there is no evidence that he left upstate New York in this period. So, Lincoln must have come to him. There are not any books about Charlie Hogan but there are a lot of books about Abraham Lincoln, so I did some research at the public library. I hypothesized that when Lincoln was running for re-election in 1864 he might have made a campaign speech in upstate New York. That didn’t happen. In those days, it was considered undignified for a sitting president to actively campaign for re-election. Because the Civil War was raging in 1864, Lincoln never traveled beyond Washington and Northern Virginia. Hypothesis disproved. That left only one explanation.

Lincoln was assassinated in April of 1865. His body was transported on a special funeral train that took a circuitous route through the sorrowing nation, starting from Washington and ending at the president’s final resting place in Springfield, Illinois. The funeral train stopped for a full day in Buffalo. A great tent had been built in the town hall and Lincoln’s body was displayed in the open casket. Thousands of people lined up to pay their respects to the great man. So when young Charlie joined this crowd and saw Lincoln’s craggy face close-up, in a coffin surrounded by flowers, guards in fancy military uniform, and choruses singing, this tragic and dramatic event certainly would have become one of the strong memories of his early life.

Analysts have to pay very close attention to what people say or write. The reporter’s words on meeting Mr. Lincoln were not false, but required re-interpretation.

The accuracy of the Empire State Express speed record was a subject of controversy at the time, and the controversy continues to this day. The speed record claimed was 112.5 mph, but there was no speedometer anywhere else on the train. The speed measurement was done by journalists and railroad officials seated on the train and carrying stopwatches. Mile posts were set along the track so one could calculate the speed. Most of the timing was done by employees of the railroad, and since the whole idea of building the 999 and trying for a speed run was a public relations stunt designed to sell tickets, there was an obvious bias for the timing squad. One of the enthusiastic gentlemen shouted out 32 seconds exactly! And 32 seconds exactly converts to 112.5 mph. This is a classic example of an unaudited figure. The time has been reasonably disputed ever since, and 32.00 is much too round a number to inspire confidence that it was a good datum. But engineer Hogan wrote a letter supporting the 112.5 mph figure, so I will stand by my man. Again, an analyst has to apply a skeptical reading of investor relations releases.

Any good analyst goes on a field trip. I spent an hour in the cab of the 999 trying to identify the various controls and gauges. According to the historical record, Charlie was complimented as an engineer who could run with the Johnson Bar in the company notch. It took some time to find out what that meant (not that you should care). There were two white ropes mounted on the ceiling of the cab, one on each side. I guessed that one blew the whistle and the other rang the bell. There was a glass partition across the cab, a wall about three feet high. To figure out which rope did what, it was imperative for me to scale the wall, which was considered an interesting feat by several people in the cab. But I made it, and going to the fireman’s side of the cab and yanking the cord, I was rewarded with a loud clang of the bell. I gave it two more tugs just for the joy of hearing a brass locomotive bell in full voice.

What was the most interesting thing I found out doing this research? I think it was the way they went about setting the speed record. No one had ever driven an engine anywhere close to 100 mph, so there was no data to show that the 999 would stay on the track or that the machinery would hold together. The 999 was a one-of-a-kind locomotive that was built only a month before the speed run. It was an untested engine of a novel design. Today, I am sure if a modern railroad was introducing a new high-speed locomotive, they would set up an elaborate protocol. That’s not the way the New York Central and Hudson River Railroad did it (i.e., no crash dummies). They sold tickets on the Empire State Express as usual. The four cars were filled with passengers and some railroad officials. The train ran as usual from New York City to Syracuse. There, the first engine was uncoupled and the 999 took over. Charlie and his fireman, Al Elliott, took the Empire State Express down the track, gradually increasing the speed. On that first run, on May 9, 1893, the Empire State Express set a new world record of 103 mph. The passengers aboard were thrilled to be on this historic run. The next day, the train was filled with a new set of excited passengers and railroad men, and Hogan and the 999 set the 112.5 mph record. No lawyers were on board. One has to admire the careless enthusiasm of that vanished era.

The point of this essay is not railroad history. It is to get you to do some volunteer work with a non-profit organization. Use your skills on the investment committee or just show up and help wash the dishes. You will get a lot of fun and pride by doing it.

If you want to meet Charlie Hogan in person, he hangs out at the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago and welcomes visitors.

FYI, Tom Mulroy is Wanger Investment Management’s new COO. His grandfather was an engineer for the New York Central railroad. I wonder if he knew Charlie...

Ralph Wanger, CFA, is Senior Advisor to Wanger Investment Management, Inc.