TIME: Almanac 1995

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<text id=93TT1755> <title> May 24, 1993: The Great A Train Robbery </title> <history> TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993 May 24, 1993 Kids, Sex & Values </history> <article> <source>Time Magazine</source> <hdr> CITIES, Page 49 The Great A Train Robbery </hdr> <body> How a 16-year-old stole a train--and the hearts of New Yorkers By SOPHFRONIA SCOTT GREGORY--With reporting by Massimo Calabresi/New York When the story broke, it seemed to be yet another horrific New York City fable: delinquent teen commandeers an eight-car subway train, taking 2,000 passengers on a three-hour joyride on the A line, the longest in the system. But as it turned out, the tale of Keron ("Keno") Thomas, 16, was not of the "Honey let's call that broker in Westchester this city really is going to hell" variety. It was that other type of urban story, the kind that continues to propel big-city dwellers forward each day, a tale of hard work and self-starting (albeit misguided) initiative, of taking matters into one's own hands to make dreams come true. Keno loved trains. When he was 12, his family left their native Trinidad to live in New York City--and Keno became enthralled with the subway system. "He'd never seen anything like it before," says his sister Melissa, 13. He collected transit uniform shirts and equipment, read motormen's training manuals, drew pictures of the different trains and rode the subway for hours at a time. At home Keno would sit at a desk and, using a stapler as a make-believe throttle, pretend to drive through routes, calling out stops and taking on passengers. "For hours he would do this," says his father Francis Thomas, a construction worker. Keno learned all about the system by hanging out in the subway dispatcher's office in Brooklyn, where he picked up the transit jargon and befriended motormen. Keno, stocky and stout, convinced one of them, Regoberto Sabio, that he was a 25-year-old motorman, and would ride Sabio's route with him. "He didn't show me an ID card or anything like that," Sabio later told a reporter, "but there was nothing in his mannerisms that made me think he was anything but another motorman." By riding with Sabio, Keno learned firsthand how to drive the trains, what tools he needed to release a train's brakes and how to talk to a conductor. Then came the day Sabio went on vacation. That Saturday Keno called Manhattan's 207th Street station on the A-train line and, pretending to be Sabio, requested a shift. When he showed up, he signed in using Sabio's Transit Authority pass number. He received a mild admonition for wearing jeans instead of his full uniform, but, says Lieut. Robert Valentino of the New York City transit police, "he looked like a motorman and he acted like a motorman, so they gave him an assignment." Keno dutifully studied the route out to Brooklyn before the 3:58 p.m. departure time. He was nervous at first. The electric-powered train was made up of eight R44 cars--and Keno had been only on the older R38 models. Undaunted, he boarded the train, alerting the conductor with the requisite buzz and closing the doors. "I had waited four years for this moment," Keno would later tell authorities. "It was very exciting." He handled the train with the greatest care, making all the proper announcements and easing the train into the proper position at each station. Twenty-four miles later, he pulled into his final destination in Brooklyn. He was one minute ahead of schedule. The trip back into Manhattan went almost as well. But five stops before ending his adventure, a slight incline sent the train speeding downhill, exceeding a 20-m.p.h. speed limit. Before Keno could slow train, he went through a speeding signal and tripped an emergency brake. The train hissed to a dead stop. All he had to do was get out of the train, get onto the tracks and reset the brake. But Keno was afraid of the dark subway tunnels, the rats and exposed high-voltage lines. For a full 30 minutes he sat panicked as the conductor and Transit Authority supervisors, still not knowing his identity, coached and chided him. Finally a rail inspector arrived and repowered the train. At the terminal, Keno was sent for the mandatory drug test that motormen take in the event of a serious gaffe. However, he fled before reaching the Transit Authority offices. Early last week, detectives tracked Keno down at his parents' home in Brooklyn. Only then did they discover that the offending motorman was a 16-year-old boy. Now Keno sits at home, ashamed of what he did and worried about what will happen to him next. "He wanted to show people that he could drive a train, and someday he wanted to become a motorman," says Melissa. "He accomplished his goal and everything, but in the wrong way." At first, a Transit Authority spokesman insisted they would "throw the book at this kid," charging him with reckless endangerment, forgery and criminal impersonation. Says Valentino: "We were fortunate in that no one got injured." Still, Keno's popularity may allow for more lenient treatment. Much of the city seems willing to forgive the misadventure. New Yorkers were astonished--and, in a way, flattered--that anyone could be obsessed with their much maligned subways. Movie-of-the-week packagers are lining up for Keno's signature. Said ex-Mayor Ed Koch: "If I were the judge, I'd explain to him that he did place people in danger. Then I would ask the [Transit Authority] to give him an internship." That would be a dream come true for Keno Thomas. But such an ending is up to the lawyers and the courts. And that's another kind of story. </body> </article> </text>