Not defending the piece but IIRC the blurb at the end of the story that the author (now deceased) was a former railroader who had worked for the NYC and the story was a fictionalized account of some of his experiences, pasting together a number of events that happened at different times with the “names changed to protect the innocent”…However when I started reading it I too thought it was a work of non-fiction recounting an actual wreck so maybe there should have been a note at the beggining of the article explaining that clearly…
One hundred thirty-five years after the Ashtabula Horror occurred, the facts of the event are well established, yet mists of mystery and stains of shame remain.
That is a very well written account of the “Ashtabula Horror”. I would speculate that it did indeed inspire safety improvements. Particularly interesting is the mention of the bridge design as being experimental, and therefore, not signed off on by its designer. It sounds like the train simply collapsed the bridge. It makes me wonder, why that train? Was there anything unusual about it that would have it play the role as the final straw? What sounds like it was unusual was the weather. Did that play a role?
It would be interesting to see a design drawing of the Ashtabula Bridge.
There was a time in the late 1800s when train wrecks became a national scandal.
The Bridge might have had Coldshort or Iron with alot of phosphorus in it that when cold is Very Brittle. Think about it Severe Blizzard Driving winds would make the Bridge Very Cold then throw in a Doubleheaded Passenger Train that Derailed on it for some reason guess what Bang it could have collasped.
I have been reading about the Ashtabula Disaster all day, and it is one very intense story. The first locomotive was almost across the bridge when the engineer suddenly felt like he was running uphill. He pulled the throttle out and his engine surged ahead, breaking its coupling to the second engine. The first engine made it across, but the second engine along with the entire train went down into the 80-foot-deep valley. The car stoves set the whole train on fire.
The rescue effort panicked in trying to decide whether to rescue people or put the fire out. They had a steam fire pump only a few hundred feet away with a head of steam in its boiler, but they decided to concentrate on rescuing people rather than fighting the fire.
Shortly after the wreck, the bridge designer and bridge inspector committed suicide.
The Ashtabula depot was just 1/8 mile west of the bridge. In the raging blizzard, as the westbound Pacific Express with over 200 passengers on board and eleven cars approached the bridge, it slowed to 10 mph to make sure there were no big snowdrifts on it.
When the bridge started to fail, and first engine was able to break away and get to the safety of solid ground on the west end, he blew his whistle and the passengers all went out to the depot platform expecting to board. They heard a mighty roar as the second engine and the first few cars fell with the bridge. The falling cars pulled the following cars forward, and one by one they all went over the brink and fell into the abyss. Shortly, a red glow appeared in the snow-filled sky above the bridge site as the heap of splintered cars caught fire.
I read about half of it last night, and I would say that if you want to experience this monstrous event without being physically harmed, read the book. But understand that this was written in an era that had different tastes in how an accident should be reported. Nevertheless, the book is incredibly well written with an unusual economy that electrifyingly conveys not only the details, but the emotions as well. Ashtabula was rocked to its soul that dreadful night in 1876.
From the Railroad Gazette monthly record of train wrecks:
June 1890
30th, on Southern Pacific, South Pacific Coast Division, at Oakland, Cal., a passenger train consisting of engine and one passenger car of a train of three ran into San Antonio Creek, the drawbridge at that point having been opened and only partially closed. Thirteen passengers were drowned. The engineer (Dunn) and fireman jumped off and saved themselves.
From the Railroad Gazette monthly record of train accidents:
February 1884
On the morning of the 15th a passenger train on the Bradford, Bordell & Kinzua road when near Bradford, Pa., in a side-hill cut, ran into a river of oil which had escaped from a bursted tank on the hillside, and running down the snow, had covered the bed of the railroad track for over a half-mile. The grade at that point is very steep, and the oil coursed down the bank as if it were a stream of water.
Here are some program notes from a very popular hymn arrangement in the United States. Note the last few paragraphs.
“ON A HYMNSONG OF PHILIP BLISS” - BAND VERSION
Expanded Program Notes: Horatio G. Spafford, a Chicago Presbyterian layman and successful businessman, planned a European trip for his family in 1873. In November of that year, due to unexpected last minute business developments, he had to remain in Chicago; but he sent his wife and four daughters on ahead as scheduled aboard the S.S. Ville du Havre. He expected to follow in a few days. On November 22, the ship was struck by the Lochearn, an English vessel, and sank in twelve minutes. Several days later the survivors were finally landed at Cardiff, Wales, and Mrs. Spafford cabled her husband, “Saved Alone.” Shortly afterward Spafford left by ship to join his bereaved wife.
It is speculated that on the sea near the area where it was thought his four daughters had drowned, Spafford penned this text with words so significantly descri
I too see a significance in the association of gospel music writer, Philip Bliss with this tragedy. Other sources also seem to hint at the powerful sense of good versus evil that was played out in the disaster. The participation of Philip Bliss seems to be a conspicuous part of that drama.
Like the sinking of the Titanic, there was a palpable foreboding that let up to the Ashtabula Bridge Disaster that wrecked the Pacific Express in 1876. In the case of the Titanic, the foreboding preceding the disaster seemed to be a psychological reaction to the exaggerated hubris that accompanied the launching of the ship. Everybody knows that pride comes before a fall. In the case of the Titanic, people saw the pride and worried about the fall. But with the Ashtabula wreck, the foreboding was directly related to the threatening nature of the raging blizzard.
Here are a few more knick-knacks from the Railroad Gazette monthly tally of wrecks and accidents:
February 1896
12th, 3 a.m., on New York & New England, near Bristol, Conn., an eastbound train broke apart in two places and the three sections continued running for a mile or two when the third section ran into the second, derailing 4 cars; some of the forward cars kept running, how
10th, 1 a.m., on Lehigh & Hudson, near Warwick, N.Y., the locomotive of a freight train which had just passed over a summit was wrecked by the explosion of its boiler. The boiler was thrown completely off the frame, and the train continued running for a mile and a half. The conductor, engineman, fireman and one brakeman were killed or fatally injured.
The boiler was found to have been over-heated. The firebox was of the Wooten pattern, and the crown sheet was blue
I have read most of the Trains special issue on train wrecks. Regarding the story called Little Things on page 76, I find no reference to this being fiction as has been mentioned here.
What I found most interesting was the piece by Harold B Norman called, HAS NO. 5 PASSED MILL CREEK? I not know who Mr. Norman is, but his description and analysis of the Grand Rapids & Indiana Ry. wreck is miles deep.