Between Northstar stops, a dream ride

Nine senior citizens in wheelchairs and two others navigating walkers inched beyond the Walker Methodist Health Center's "Therapeutic Recreation Schedule" sign that listed bingo, a popcorn social and "Piano with Vincent" among the day's activities.

Vincent isn't just a musician. He's a conductor.

With his oversized pocket watch and chain, navy blue vest and a comforting voice that invites you to come aboard, Vincent Roberts looks very much like the Northstar commuter train conductor he is. He rides the rails from Big Lake to Minneapolis before the hint of dawn, and heads back again during the evening rush hour.

But during the nearly six hours between the final morning train's 8:10 a.m. arrival at Target Field and its first westbound departure in the afternoon, Roberts comes to the south Minneapolis care center to play gospel songs for a captive audience that includes his mother, Gladys Roberts, 83, a resident there.

It's become a routine necessitated by a workday that often stretches beyond 14 hours. When Northstar's final morning train comes to its last stop, commuters aren't the only people who get off at Target Field. A dozen crew members make tracks in different directions.

Engineer Tom Dorr golfs. Some of the crew go to a downtown Radisson, to sleep or work out. Some buy standing-room tickets and watch a few innings at Target Field. A few who live in or near Minneapolis go home.

Todd Lippman, 54, a Northstar engineer who has worked for the Burlington Northern Santa Fe railroad for 36 years, heads to Sharing and Caring Hands, a block from the Metro Transit building, to serve breakfast and lunch to the homeless. He wears the same uniform -- white dress shirt, red striped-tie and vest -- that he wears during train rides.

Lippman, who lives outside Hudson, Wis., drives nearly 70 miles to Big Lake each morning, reporting to work at 4:22 a.m. His day often ends at 6:22 p.m. -- exactly 14 hours later. Like the other Northstar engineers and conductors, Lippman is paid by the mile, not the hour, said Amy McBeth, a Burlington Northern spokesperson. That means they're on their own, unpaid time each day between runs.

The work Lippman does during that down time energizes him -- and others.

"Todd is our bright light," said Mary Jo Copeland, Sharing and Caring Hands director. "He serves meals. He gives tours."

Lippman, a native New Yorker, graduated from high school at 16 (he skipped a grade) and left Queens for the unknown. Rather than accept a free ride from C.W. Post college, where his father was a professor, Lippman went to San Francisco with $50 in his pocket. By the time his circuitous route brought him to Minneapolis, he had nothing in his pockets.

"I know what it's like not to have a place to go, to have nothing," he said. "That's why I love doing this."

He may not be the most recognizable member of his family. That honor probably goes to daughter Bella, 7, the pig-tailed star of Target ads. But when Roberts steps off the elevator, everyone on the sixth floor of his mother's nursing home knows they're in for 30 minutes of down-home gospel bliss.

Sometimes he shares vocals with nurse's assistant Wanga Reed. Some of the audience members clap. And Gladys Roberts beams.

"It's unusual to have a job schedule that allows me to do this," said Vincent Roberts. "But it's a blessing. I live in Big Lake. Where else would I go during the day?"

He plays for 30 minutes -- enough to give his audience a boost without exhausting them. Then he packs up his keyboard, amplifier and microphone.

After a recent performance, he walked his mother back to her room and then prepared to do a few errands.

And after that?

"I've got a train to catch," he said.

Paul Levy • 612-673-4419