The Historic Casey Jones Home and Railroad Museum will host its annual Casey Jones Birthday Celebration later this month.
Festivities include an opportunity to meet the granddaughter of the late Casey Jones. Nancy Howse will be at the Casey Jones Museum signing autographs and greeting guests from 1 to 3 p.m. March 14.
Admission to Casey Jones’ original historic 1890s home will be free during the daylong celebration. Door prizes will be given and light refreshments served.
The museum is located in Casey Jones Village off the U.S. 45 Bypass at I-40 exit 80A in Jackson. Hours of operation are 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. To read more about America’s legendary railroad hero, visit http://www.caseyjones.com.
Interesting how this rule-violating, life-endangering egomaniac has somehow become a “hero”. A hero of what? Corporate greed?
I note that all of the accident reports put the entire blame on Jones. What troubles me about this is that there was a deliberate encouragement by the railroad management for this sort of operating. They apparently deemed it more important to be on time than to be safe.
When I was a kid – so we are talking 1950s here – I had a yellow plastic kiddee record of train songs that I loved. And even on a children’s record, for Casey Jones they included this part of the lyrics which I have always found rather fascinating:
"Mrs. Casey Jones sat at her bed a-sighing Just to hear the news that her Casey was dying. "Hush up children, and quit your crying’, For you’ve got another poppa on the Salt Lake Line."
So what are they saying – that Casey’s wife cheated on him, that he was not the actual father of what he thought to be his children? Interesting …
Also back then there was a Casey Jones tv show where needless to say, Casey did not die week after week.
Casey Jones had a reputation for getting trains over the road. Railroad management then and continuing into the end of the passenger era turned a blind eye for speed violations if the schedule was met. The Pennsylvania was notorious for this. Heaven help you is you ran late and heaven help you if you did not make up the time and heaven help you if broke a speed restriction. The engineer was the linchpin for schedule keeping and had a target painted on his back by management. The point in fact was, if you know what happened that night, was that he told Sim Webb to jump as it was apparent how the story would end, while making every effort up to the moment of his death to slow the speed and the resulting carnage of the impact…he could have"joined the birds" and chose not to while, at the same time, advising his fireman to save his life…
G’day, Y’all:
Maury Klein wrote in one of his books that when the New Haven RR took Yale fans to new Haven for the openng of the Yale Bowl that it required engineers to have a little chat with the (as I recall) division superintendent if they were three minutes late. Well, you knew where your boss’s intentions lay. Wouldn’t you push the throttle up a notch or two to keep from getting written up?
Casey Jones was called in for that run by IC because the higher ups knew he would do all he could to get it back on schedule. If they had told him not to worry about the schedule but run it safely, he would have probably done that and no one would have ever heard of him.
Incidentally, Casey’s granddaughter, Pat Jones, lives not too far from me here north of Atlanta. A mutual friend gave me her phone number and I called her. Of course, she knows no insider information, only what most everyone else knows. I did have a good time talking to her, though.
Keep in mind at the time of the accident Casey had been running trains for something like 18 hours straight. Could be his judgment was somewhat impared. As far as his being an out-of-control and dangerous engineer, the Trains magazine article on him at the 100th anniversary of the crash noted that not only did he die (as noted in an earlier post) trying to stop the train or at least slow it enough to limit the damage, but that his death was the only one to occur while he was running a train. That was unusual for the time when railroad deaths were a common occurance, he actually had a very good safety record.
One regretful aspect of this story that your post has brought out, were his long and I am sure unpredictable hours of service, a situation that has not been improved upon much except for the obligatory lip service by stakeholders. Sim Webb’s story is interesting especially in light of the era in which he was in train service. link below.
Driving that train, high on cocaine,
Casey Jones you better watch your speed.
Trouble ahead, trouble behind,
And you know that notion just crossed my mind.
Yes I have always heard that he was a highly competent, excellent engineer. But in that old, wild era, speeding to make the time was officially sanctioned as long as nothing went wrong. Meeting that difficult criteria is what made a good engineer. Unfortunately, on that fateful night, there was a kind of perfect storm of things going wrong that conspired to bring about a wreck as is often the case with wrecks.
Casey Jones may be criticized for overplaying his role in the context of that era, but a much better example would be the engineer responsible for the “Wreck of no. 97.” I believe his name was Brody, but I would have to look it up to be sure. As I recall there was a need to call a subsitute engineer for that run. While the choice was being contemplated, Brody, angling for the call, bragged, “I’ll put no. 97 into Spencer on time, or I’ll sink it into hell.” Talk about confronting fate!
They gave him his orders at Monroe, Virginia,
Saying, “Stevie, you’re way behind time.
This is not 38, but it’s Old 97,
You must put her into Spencer on time.”
He looked 'round and said to his black greasy fireman,
“Just shovel in a little more coal,
And when I cross that old White Oak Mountain
You can just watch Old 97 roll.”
It’s a mighty rough road from Lynchburg to Danville,
And the lie was a three-mile grade,
It was on that grade that he lost his air brakes,
And you see what a jump that she made.
He was going down the grade making 90 miles an hour,
When his whistle began to scream,
He was found in that wreck with his hand on the throttle,
He was scalded to death by the steam.
Our local paper prints daily excerpts from years past (5, 10, 25, 50, etc). One that appeared yesterday cited an order that NYC crews were to stop “making up time” due to the number of accidents that had been attributed to exactly that reason in the past year.
On the other hand, I recall reading an account of the 20th Century Limited (or some other crack NYC train) wherein the engineer was told not to arrive in Albany before a certain time…
The best first person story, bar none, was in Trains Magazine. It was written by Dave Crosby (sp?) and was his account of a last opportunity to see what a duplex drive T1 could do. He had that chance on a late mail train…they tore up the speed restrictions and blew past a tower just about knocking the operator over…They were both called on the carpet about speeding…and were warned as such…the last thing the supervisor said was “good job…”
I recall hearing a story about Mrs Jones staging a white-hot hissy fit about that stanza - which was not part of the original lyrics, but was added by some boltheaded stranger to the family at a later date. She was present at a live performance, had told the ‘artists’ about her objections beforehand, but they started to sing it anyway. If the tale is true, she outdid the entire quartet in volume, and her rhetoric singed the fringe on the stage curtain.
One soldier, who was on the train during the wreck, recalled that, “a hundred and fifty good fellows will look back to their detention in this ‘wheelbarrow city’ as one of memory’s pleasant pictures.”
