In the fifties, when I was just a few years old, (4?) my father and I were invited by my Uncle Charley to the B&OCT's Robie Street roundhouse where he worked to see the last steam engine assigned there. It was a Sunday, and we were dressed up from coming from church, and I remember being told not to touch anything because everything is dirty, and I'll ruin my nice clothes.
But I digress, the locomotive was a 2-8-0, or 0-8-0, and was hissing quietly in a stall. It did work all night, but we missed it in action.
I remember liking it a lot better than the diesels, as it could sit here quietly while the diesels were chanting away. I didn't like the noise. I was a weird child, I know. Pictures were taken of me posing on the pilot steps, I'll have them scanned someday.
Other attempts to see steam were on the GTW, as they ran 4-8-4s on passenger service into Chicago until 1960. Dad was no railfan, and never thought to get a train schedule, but a distant whistle would call us track-side, but the result was always smoke behind a cut of cars on an elevated right of way.
One day in an industrial/commercial part of the city, we were stopped by a flagman at a shallow angle crossing, were a steamer crossed the street and coupled on to boxcars at a factory. The resulting jolt, shook burning cinders into the ashpan. This image was burned into my memory for all time.