ALL ABOARD! GUARD A FRIEND TO PASSENGERS.

Byline: SUE DOYLE Staff Writer

CANYON COUNTRY -- About 400 people come and go each day on the train from the Via Princessa stop, but there's one person there who never gets on board.

That's 77-year-old Frank Meacham, a private security guard who keeps an eye on the depot while commuters head off with round-trip and one-way tickets in hand to places like Los Angeles, Burbank and Lancaster.

His day begins and ends in Canyon Country, starting at 4 a.m.

And from his tiny office where a clock whistles like a train on the hour, he watches over commuters' parked cars, helps people with tickets and then gets them safely on board the Metrolink trains.

But mainly, the blue-eyed extrovert greets the people passing through.

``Of course, you get to meet all the pretty girls, and the ugly ones, too,'' he said with a grin.

Most commuters don't make it past the Canyon Country man without a high-five, hug or pat on the back. He knows their faces, knows their routines and can tell what's on their minds.

``Where's the wife today?'' he asked one man. ``Good morning, Sue,'' he said to another passenger and then waved at the train engineer pulling into the station.

Suddenly frantic commuters running late for the train darted past. Some hauled boxes of important papers, files and reports -- materials for their busy days in their cubicles and behind office doors.

Seconds before the train doors slammed shut, they jumped on, and the silver commuter train rumbled away down the track.

And Meacham stood on the platform alone.

It's been six years since he first put on his brown security uniform and stepped into the one-room office. A microwave and hand-held poker game sit on his desk, next to a window where a can of bug spray and an American flag stand on the ledge.

For about 40 years, he operated a sheet metal shop in North Hollywood. But in 1999, he suffered a heart attack and needed five-way bypass surgery. It was his birthday.

Concerned about his health, his wife, Lucille, and children, Frank and Cynthia, urged him to sell the business. He did.

But then doctors told him to keep busy.

``I took this on to get out of my wife's hair,'' he said. ``I don't know why I do it. But I do.''

Birds sang to morning glories as the sun peeked over the horizon. It was still early in the morning, and the hot summer sizzle had yet to set in.

Meacham sipped on coffee from his thermos and looked at his wristwatch. Soon the train heading to Lancaster will come, he said.

Meanwhile, it's quiet. But days at the station aren't always tranquil.

There have been loud drunks passing through, women running away from abusive husbands and one woman who exposed herself after being pulled off the train for unusual behavior.

His experience with trains began long ago, as a bored kid growing up in Cincinnati, Ohio. Pulling watermelons from his father's garden, Meacham and his friends would hurl the fruit at passing railroad cars and laugh as they splattered to bits.

Of course, the pranks went unknown to his father, an engineer for more than 40 years with the Pennsylvania Railroad.

Meacham snickered as he recalled the story and looked again at his watch. His arms are tanned deep golden brown from the long hours he stands outside.

The Lancaster train was minutes away, he said, and looked around for Amber, a young girl who comes to the station every day with her mother. The child always insists that Meacham pick her up and validate her ticket.

As the train approaches, the platform again fills with businessmen and women along with some residents heading for summertime adventures downtown. Meacham gives them a nod and a wink before sending them off.

Then Theresa Jackson walks up. The 33-year-old has taken the train from this station for three months and usually begins her morning with a greeting from Meacham.

``He's the nicest person,'' the Canyon Country woman said. ``I can't think of a nicer way to start the day than with a big hello.''

CAPTION(S):

4 photos

Photo:

(1 -- color) Frank Meacham, 77, waves goodbye to riders on the Metrolink from the Via Princessa Metrolink station. Meacham, below, is always ready to greet riders with a friendly smile.

(2 -- color) - Frank Meacham, security guard, Via Princessa Metrolink station

(3 -- 4) 77-year-old Frank Meacham gives out lots of hugs, left, in the morning at the Via Princessa Metrolink station, then watches the flow of people from his guard shack. ``He's the nicest person,'' says Theresa Jackson, a regular passenger. ``I can't think of a nicer way to start the day than with a big hello.''

David Crane/Staff Photographer