You've heard the voice of Arlo Guthrie singing about the "disappearing railroad blues," and maybe you've heard Willie Nelson’s dusty, weathered version too. It's a song that feels like it has existed forever, like a piece of American folklore found in a dusty attic or carved into the side of a boxcar. But it isn't a traditional folk song from the 1800s. Who wrote the City of New Orleans song? That credit goes to a scrawny, incredibly talented kid from Chicago named Steve Goodman.
It's one of those rare tracks where the songwriter isn't nearly as famous as the song itself. Steve Goodman was a folk music prodigy with a wit that could cut through steel. He wrote it in 1971 while riding the Illinois Central train with his wife, Nancy. They were headed down to visit her family in Mattoon, Illinois. While Nancy slept, Steve looked out the window and started scribbling on a sketch pad. He wasn't trying to write a legendary anthem; he was just observing the passing world through a screen door.
The song is basically a rhythmic diary of a dying era. Steve saw the card games in the club car, the "graveyards of rusted automobiles," and the conductor's weary face. It was a snapshot of a rail line that was literally being phased out as he sat on it. Honestly, it's a bit of a miracle the song ever reached our ears.
The Chance Meeting at the Quiet Knight
Steve Goodman was a regular in the Chicago folk scene, playing clubs like the Quiet Knight. One night in 1971, Arlo Guthrie—son of the legendary Woody Guthrie—was in town. Goodman approached him and asked if he could play him a song. Arlo, likely tired and looking to get a drink, made him a deal. He told Goodman that if he bought him a beer, Goodman could play for as long as it took Arlo to drink it.
It was the best beer anyone ever bought.
Goodman played "City of New Orleans." Arlo sat there, stunned. He knew immediately that the song was a masterpiece. He asked Goodman for a demo tape. According to legend, Goodman didn't even have a proper recording; he just taped himself playing it and handed it over. A year later, Guthrie's version hit the Top 40, and the rest is history.
Steve Goodman was only 23 years old when he wrote it. Imagine that. You're barely out of college, sitting on a train, and you accidentally pen the definitive song about the American rail system.
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Why the Song Felt So Different
Most train songs before the 70s were about the power of the engine or the tragedy of a wreck. Think "Casey Jones" or "Orange Blossom Special." But Goodman’s perspective was melancholic. It was about the loss of something.
The Illinois Central was a lifeline for the South, particularly for Black families moving north during the Great Migration and people traveling between Chicago and New Orleans. By the time Goodman hopped on board, Amtrak was taking over. The "City of New Orleans" train was literally being retired.
He captured the specific Americana of the mid-century:
- The "old men in the club car" playing gin.
- The "magic carpet made of steel."
- The rhythmic "hobo's lullaby."
It’s tactile. You can smell the stale coffee and the iron.
The Willie Nelson and John Denver Connections
While Arlo Guthrie made the song a hit, Willie Nelson made it a standard. In 1984, Willie’s version won a Grammy for Best Country Song. By then, Goodman was gone. He had passed away from leukemia at the age of 36, just months before Willie’s version climbed the charts.
Steve had been fighting the disease since he was 20. He was often called "Cool Hand Luke" by his friends because he never let the illness stop his frantic, joyful performing style. He knew he was on borrowed time. Maybe that’s why "City of New Orleans" feels so fleeting and precious. It’s a song about things passing away, written by a man who knew he was passing away too.
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John Denver also covered it, as did Judy Collins, Johnny Cash, and even Jerry Reed. It’s been translated into dozens of languages. There’s a famous French version called "Salut les amoureux" by Joe Dassin, which is basically a love song. It’s wild how a song about a train in Illinois became a romantic ballad in Paris.
Technical Brilliance in the Songwriting
When you look at the structure, Goodman was doing some heavy lifting. The song moves through time—morning, afternoon, and night—paralleling the journey of the train.
- The Morning: Starting in Chicago with 15 cars and 15 restless riders.
- The Afternoon: Rolling through Mississippi and Tennessee, seeing the "sons of Pullman porters."
- The Night: The final stretch into New Orleans, where the "darkness becomes a song."
The chord progression is classic folk, but the melody has a soaring quality that makes it feel much larger than a standard three-chord tune. Goodman was a master guitar player, known for a percussive, fast-paced style that mimicked the clack-clack-clack of the tracks.
Common Misconceptions About the Lyrics
A lot of people think the "sons of Pullman porters" line is just a bit of poetic fluff. It’s actually a deep nod to labor history. The Pullman Company, based in Chicago, hired Black men to work as porters. It was a prestigious but grueling job that helped build the Black middle class. By including that line, Goodman acknowledged the social fabric of the rail line he was riding.
Another one? People often get the destination wrong. The train didn't just go to New Orleans; it was a 921-mile run. Goodman captures the geography perfectly. When he mentions "passing trains that have no name," he’s talking about the freight trains that would pull onto sidings to let the passenger "City of New Orleans" blast past.
The Legacy of the Real City of New Orleans
The train itself still runs today, operated by Amtrak. It still leaves Chicago’s Union Station and heads south through Memphis to the Big Easy. If you ride it today, you’ll likely hear someone humming the tune.
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Steve Goodman never became a household name like Bob Dylan or Neil Young. He was a songwriter’s songwriter. He wrote "Go, Cubs, Go" for his beloved Chicago Cubs, which is still played at Wrigley Field after every win. He wrote "You Never Even Called Me by My Name," which David Allan Coe turned into the "perfect country and western song."
But "City of New Orleans" remains his crown jewel. It’s a song that proves you don't need a massive marketing machine to create a legend. You just need a beer, a sketch pad, and a window seat on a train.
Exploring More of Goodman’s Work
If you really want to understand the man behind the song, you have to listen to his live albums. He was funny—hilariously so. He could improvise entire verses about a broken string or someone sneezing in the front row.
- Check out the album "The Essential Steve Goodman."
- Look up his performances on Austin City Limits. * Listen to his song "Lincoln Park Pirates" to see his satirical side.
Knowing who wrote the City of New Orleans song is just the entry point. Once you find Steve Goodman, you find a whole world of folk music that is smart, cynical, and deeply human.
To truly honor the history of this track, start by listening to Goodman's original version from his 1971 self-titled album. It's faster and more nervous than Guthrie's version, and it feels more like a real train ride. After that, dig into the biography Steve Goodman: Facing the Music by Clay Eals. It’s a massive, deeply researched book that gives the man the credit he finally deserves.
Don't just stop at the radio hits. The real story is in the liner notes and the live recordings where you can hear Steve's foot tapping against the floorboards, keeping time with a world that was moving a little too fast for him.