True stories of 19th century railroading

My guess is Post war period about 1867.

from A Treasury of Railroad Folklore (1953)

Brandy in Tin Dippers (a story originally related 1909)

In earlier railroad days there was not much said in regard to the use of whiskey and sometimes it was forced on us in place of water. In 1854 a bad cholera epidemic was raging in Nashville and when we roustabouts had nothing else to do we had to work in the freight house and were not allowed to drink water but instead a bucket of French brandy and a tin dipper were at each door and we had to drink that or nothing.

A railfan background makes this Buster Keaton comedy even more amusing

Ace posted:

Brandy in Tin Dippers (a story originally related 1909)

In earlier railroad days there was not much said in regard to the use of whiskey and sometimes it was forced on us in place of water. In 1854 a bad cholera epidemic was raging in Nashville and when we roustabouts had nothing else to do we had to work in the freight house and were not allowed to drink water but instead a bucket of French brandy and a tin dipper were at each door and we had to drink that or nothing.

Oh, how awful!  

Seems like Nashville was much closer to Chattanooga back then.

Why would you call them the "bad" old days of railroading?

Railroaders who started in the early years, and who lived to see the changes that the railroad went through, would argue with you. They came from a time when the engineer basically "owned" his engine; where railroaders were allowed to be individuals, and where management micro-oversight was practically non-existent.

Since you're into these older accounts, I'd highly recommend "Clear the Tracks" by Joseph Bromley for a clearer picture of what the true "golden age" of railroading was like.

I've heard that Engineman  had their own engines back when?  I suppose the fireman got to shine up everything but never  allowed run the engine.   I've also heard that Engineman & Conductors would not  even  walk on the same side of the street together... 

There has always been  a little friction between head end and tail end crews even when I started 1965.    I though it actually was  a pretty  good thing... kept everyone on their toes and on the job.    I still feel the friction right here on this forum.

smd4 posted:

Why would you call them the "bad" old days of railroading? ...

Because of all the trains on that route, and all the noise from military activities of the Great Rebellion, I would say it was NOT from 1861-1865.

with reference to the first post:

Dominic Mazoch posted:

Because of all the trains on that route, and all the noise from military activities of the Great Rebellion, I would say it was NOT from 1861-1865.

 I certainly agree with that. The story was apparently related first-hand in 1907 by an old guy recalling his youth, on a railway operated without telegraph. Better equipped railways began using telegraph about 1851.

In those days it was indeed a rare thing to run a round trip from Nashville to Chattanooga without a run off, however in those days we made such slow time that we seldom did much damage when we did leave the rail.

This part suggests the line was in poor condition, perhaps post-Civil War. But telegraph was in more common use in the Civil War era?

Ace posted:

smd4 posted:

Why would you call them the "bad" old days of railroading? ...

The book where this illustration first appeared - an 1889 book called "The American Railway, its Construction, Development, Management and Appliances," also has a companion illustration of a brakeman enjoying a spectacular sunset from his perch atop a boxcar, with the caption, "The pleasant part of a brakeman's life." (page 395). The text even suggests that "millionaires" might be envious of the freight trainman's life.

I highly recommend this book if you can find it, and if you enjoy the subject of 19th century railroading. It is magnificently illustrated.

Again, if you read period literature, you will find out that the railroaders who lived these times did not think of them as "bad."

Steve, I am a huge railfan but I also like doses of reality with my nostalgia. I am sharing excerpts from the library book I am currently reading, "A Treasury of Railroad Folklore". Some of these railroad stories are first-hand recollections by elderly men at about the turn of the century (1900), and I find them interesting for their insider perspectives.

from A Treasury of Railroad Folklore (1953)

In the Days of the Wood-Burners (originally from "Railroad Reminiscences" by J.H.French, 1900)

... There was one advantage in wood-burning -- you always had a tenderful of "replacers", and what those old-timers could do with engine wood, in the way of rerailing, was astonishing. And the wood served equally well to fill a gap in a broken rail (and there were many of these) to permit a train to pass over. Engine wood served almost as varied purpose, in its way, as the ladies' hairpin of today ...

If you would like more insider perspective of 19th Century railroading here are a few more you might want to consider

Brownie The Boomer – Brown

Fifty Years on the Rail – Thomas

Forty Years a Locomotive Engineer – Reed

Forty Years on the Rail – George

Little Engines and Big Men – Lathrop

No Royal Road – Custer

On the Mountain Division - Parson

Railroading in the Eighties – Roxbury

Southern Railroad Man – N.J. Bell

Travel on Southern Antebellum Railroads – Alvarez

Trips in the Life of a Locomotive Engineer - Dawson

Ace posted:

smd4 posted:

Why would you call them the "bad" old days of railroading? ...

"Another fifty feet an' she woulda made it, Colonel!"

http://www.americanyawp.com/text/15-reconstruction/

Ace posted:

with reference to the first post:

Dominic Mazoch posted:

Because of all the trains on that route, and all the noise from military activities of the Great Rebellion, I would say it was NOT from 1861-1865.

 I certainly agree with that. The story was apparently related first-hand in 1907 by an old guy recalling his youth, on a railway operated without telegraph. Better equipped railways began using telegraph about 1851.

In those days it was indeed a rare thing to run a round trip from Nashville to Chattanooga without a run off, however in those days we made such slow time that we seldom did much damage when we did leave the rail.

This part suggests the line was in poor condition, perhaps post-Civil War. But telegraph was in more common use in the Civil War era?

But the line was in the South.  Area tened not to grab onto tech advances.  However, telegraph line was along the line of the Great Loco Chase!  Andrews cut many.

smd4 posted:

The book where this illustration first appeared - an 1889 book called "The American Railway, its Construction, Development, Management and Appliances," also has a companion illustration of a brakeman enjoying a spectacular sunset from his perch atop a boxcar, with the caption, "The pleasant part of a brakeman's life." (page 395). The text even suggests that "millionaires" might be envious of the freight trainman's life.

I highly recommend this book if you can find it, and if you enjoy the subject of 19th century railroading. It is magnificently illustrated.

Again, if you read period literature, you will find out that the railroaders who lived these times did not think of them as "bad."  

Thank you for the online book link. Some sample text from pages 392 - 393:

"The danger of sudden accidental death or maiming is constant and great, and the bare record of the numerous cases is acutely suggestive of inexpressible suffering ... Though probably a thousand trainmen are killed in this country every year, and four or five thousand injured, by collisions and derailments, in coupling cars, falling off trains, striking low overhead bridges, and from other causes, no one brakeman, from what he sees in his own experience, realizes the danger very vividly ... coupling accidents are practically unavoidable ... the number of trainmen with wounded hands to be found in every large freight-yard is sad evidence of the fact."   [published 1889 before knuckle couplers and air brakes were in general use]

Just about every industry in those days had its dangers and perils. It was a different time. That doesn't mean that the people who lived in those days "sugar-coated" it.

To them, it was just life, not the "Bad Old Days." You're doing something just as wrong as sugar-coating the period: Looking at the time through the prism of the 21st century.

"Snakeheads"   (originally from "Seymour's Reminiscences" 1893)

"The first railroads that were built in this country were built with flat iron bars laid on longitudinal timbers. Very few locomotives were over ten tons weight, but with this light weight the bars would often tear out the spikes and the ends of the bars would turn up and we would call them snakeheads. They were very dangerous. There was always a spike hammer and spikes on the locomotive, and when a snakehead was seen ahead it would be necessary to stop the train and put in a plug and spike down the rail before the train could pass. I have seen the bars thrown twenty feet high, when the forward wheel of the locomotive would run under the snakehead.

One day one of the snakeheads ran right up through the floor of the car and passed up through the fleshy part of a stout young lady's thigh without touching a single blood vessel, and passed through the roof of the car about four feet, so that the lower end of it was clear of the track timber. The train was immediately stopped and the ladies in a house nearby came with camphor and stimulants, and a doctor was hastily procured who had to press with his greased hands the flesh of her thigh away from the bar of iron which was one inch in thickness, and then we had to cut away the wood of the floor and some of the roof so as to have no jar. Several men held the bar perfectly still between the doctor's hands until entirely clear of the lady's thigh. Such courage and fortitude was never exceeded, for the lady never uttered a word of complaint and it took one hour's time to carefully accomplish the work. The lady recovered and was married within a month."

That is an awesome--though horrifying--story!

Here's another one from the period

  "I had been on the engine for almost 14 hours on that New Years Eve in 1845.  Back then, with no cab for protection we stood out in the elements year round.  It had been bitter cold and when we rolled into the division point (and home) I was thinking of nothing more than home and fire.  Once in the yard masters office I was informed we were two engineers short and I would have to run the switch engine.   

I went back out to the yard, manned the switcher and got on with the business of switching cars. The rest of the crew wanted to be home before midnight so we were in a rush.  The cars fairly flew back and forth and the lights passed by like lightning, and everywhere was the creaking and rattling of the cars as they came together.  Half an hour later the train was assembled and I got down off the engine and started walking home. I was walking down the right-hand main track, because it was clean of snow and because I could see my house from it first.  I went along confidently, for I was coming from the station, and you know I was walking on the track for the trains coming in, so no train could run up on me from behind - none was expected from the front.  

  When I was half way through the cut, which as you know is on a curve, and in which I couldn't see a car length that night I heard a whistle behind me, and immediately the click and clack of the wheels of a slowly approaching train. I knew by the sound that the engine was pushing cars in front of it and it occurred to me it was probably the ten cars that had been sitting on the track in front of the station. I wasn't worried because I knew it would have to pass me on the left hand track. The train drew closer and I turned to give the engineer a wave and a shout of "Happy New Year." 

     But there was no train on the track on the left, and at the very moment I turned I felt a mighty push against my back, my eyes saw stars and I was slammed into the snow on the ties between the rails and ping-pang the cars began to pass over me.  As I lay there in a daze, trying to understand why the train had been on the wrong track it suddenly occurred to me that it had been the up-track which was covered with deep snow that morning, and that was why the train had come up the down-track.  I wasn't worried about the cars but I was worried about the engine.  Several of the engines were mounted high enough so that the ashpan would clear but if it was the Sirius I would be worse than a dead man because I would slowly torn to pieces and crushed.  I stretched myself out and drew in my breath and made myself as thin as a board. I could feel the engine getting closer and the ground began to tremble. I had my head pressed down in the snow and gravel and I twisted around to look.  Coming straight at me was the low slung ashpan of the Sirius. It caught me heavily on the back, pressed forward, and then rip, tear, something on me tore in two--and puff, puff, rolling, thundering and stamping, the engine passed over me.  

  How I ever got to my feet I cannot say.  I stood there trembling and saw the red lights on the engine disappear in the curve looking me in the eyes like death itself.  I felt myself all over and found that the two regulation buttons were missing from the back of my overcoat.  I stumbled back to the yard, looked up the nearest switchman, borrowed his lantern, and looked up the buttons in the snow.  After I found them I went home.  I walked in the door, my wife took one look at me and knew in an instant that something terrible had happened.  I told her what had transpired and held up the buttons and said," See there, your husband was only this far from death this evening."  My wife took the buttons and the next morning at breakfast she gave them back to me sewn to a cord to wear around my neck.  I wear them everyday and I'll carry them on me till death comes in earnest."

From Railroading in The Eighties – Roxbury

Steve, aka SMD4:

Thanks for the tip on "The American Railway" book. I found and purchased a reprint on eBay.

Readingfan, thanks for the link to Keaton.  Wish the ending wre there.  Must have been filmed on the CSX in the Carolinas.

Robert S. Butler posted:

Here's another one from the period

  I stumbled back to the yard, looked up the nearest switchman, borrowed his lantern, and looked up the buttons in the snow.  After I found them I went home. 

That's an interesting item from back when employees were "servants" and had to give all for their Dickensian employers. To our eyes, the victim seems overly anxious about retrieving the "regulation buttons", but property losses often meant a write-up and the cost deducted in instalments from pay .

I once read of an old-time engineer being fined for destroying the engine-house doors when, in his fatigue, his locomotive ran through them.

I seem to remember reading that in the last half of the 19th century, railroad employee deaths in the US worked out to an average of one a day, i.e., 3-400 a year. Partly because of fatigue, as there were no laws saying how many hours or days in a row an employee could be made to work without rest. There were stories similar to the OP's original post about a crew falling asleep while their train was running.

Telegraph's use in railroading started before the Civil War, but it wasn't universal until much later. I'm sure there were areas of the country running on timetable-only operations in the 1880's-90's.

Engineers having their own engines lasted into the 20th century, but I think was pretty much dead by WW1. Conductors having their own cabooses lasted into the 1950's-60's when you started to see "pool" cabooses (sometimes marked with a "P" - I believe BN did that in the 1970's.)

Here’s another one of my favorites

  The derail was as neat a death trap as human hands could devise. It was to be used only if the engine crews found that they had lost control of their train. A bluff at the end of the derail assured any engine crew a fine set of wings if they ever went on out to the end of the track.

   As I inspected the derail I made up my mind that conditions would have to be very serious before I threw that death trap open. There was an operator a Clough Junction. I could not see why it would not be possible to wire that station and have a runaway train turned in on to the branch line there and so give the engineer time to get control. All this had to be predicated on no trains between Clough Junction and my station.

    In spite of my hopes of never being called upon to throw the derail the signal came the second night. A mournful whistle far up the hill told me of a downbound freight in distress. I opend the wire to Clough Junction. "Any train upbound?" I wired swiftly. "Nothing upbound." Clough Junction was on the job. "Set switch for branch and hold everything. Runaway by me," I wired. 'O.K.." Clough Junction wired back.

  I picked up my white lantern and stepped out on to the platform. The derail signal had been repeated several times. I knew that the engine crew would jump as soon as they saw the derail set red. As the engine swung around the curve into sight of the station I waved a high ball. I made it a real high ball - a fancy flourish on the tail-tip being my own design. I repeated the signal, waving the train on down the mountain to safety. Two fiercely exultant barks of the whistle answered my second signal. The engine crew hadn't jumped.

   I got a flying glimpse of the fire boy shaking his clasped hands - sign language for "Thanks." Back in the office, safe from flying debris, I watched the runaway thunder by, sparks flying from every wheel - a roaring, swaying symphony of uncontrolled power. The tiny station fairly bounced up and down under the rush of the speeding train. A few minutes later I was called by Clough Junction. "Runaway stopped on branch. All O.K."

 From Railroadman – Chauncey Del French

Robert S. Butler posted:

Here’s another one of my favorites....

 From Railroadman – Chauncey Del French

That book by/about French is one of my favorites. It recounts his lifelong experiences as a Railroad man, starting as a telegrapher at a very early age. The account given above was about his brief assignment to a manually switched "runaway track" on a long mountain downgrade.

One of his first stories recalled a moving train he saw as a child. A man was walking along the flatcars but fell between the cars and was chopped to pieces, killed. French wanted to work for the railroad and vowed that he would never get killed on the job through such carelessness.

I recall another of his stories about working as engineer on a logging branch with extremely steep grades. Their train ran away out of control. The fireman jumped into stumps on the logged-out landscape. French climbed on top of the boiler hoping to ride it out or maybe be thrown clear if the engine jumped the track. To his surprise and relief, the engine stayed on the track, but he walked back up the track and found his fireman dead. He quit that job and moved on ...

I think French's working career ran from the 1870's to the 1920's. When he retired he was screwed out of any retirement benefits, before RR retirement was set up.

...and here's an aspect of 19th Century railroading that many are not aware of

  One matter of transportation has bothered us considerably. It is the question of how to get side-track privileges for a number of days or weeks without becoming a nuisance to the company’s men, as they are obliged to switch the cars on the house or industry track every day, and there isn’t an extra track to be found in every small town.

  The fact of hauling the car did not bother the officials much; it was the question of how they could allow us to be on a side-track for any great length of time without seriously hindering them in the prosecution of their business. It is generally known among shippers and those who receive much freight that the company charges two dollars for every twenty-four hours after the first forty-eight hours that a loaded box car is left on the track, and oftentimes ten dollars for a theatre or circus car.

   Thus you see that the railroads are very considerate to allow us to stay at all. It is only because of their desire to do all they can to help on a good cause. Noting this difficulty I conferred with the officials, and asked them if they could not have their section men build a short spur from the side-track and run my car on to it, then swing the side-track back into place and leave the chapel car on rails of its own, out of the way of all traffic.

  In answer to my request orders were given to have it done. It costs the company about eight dollars to build the track and take it up again when we leave town. We have offered to pay for it by they have never sent in any bill yet, and they have done this for us many times. This spur is only built when we stay in a town a long time, in order to erect a church or make the work permanent. It certainly obviates the difficulty and makes it far more pleasant for the missionaries and the railroad men.

From A Church on Wheels; or ten years in a Chapel Car - Rust

smd4 posted:

Why would you call them the "bad" old days of railroading?

Railroaders who started in the early years, and who lived to see the changes that the railroad went through, would argue with you. They came from a time when the engineer basically "owned" his engine; where railroaders were allowed to be individuals, and where management micro-oversight was practically non-existent.

Since you're into these older accounts, I'd highly recommend "Clear the Tracks" by Joseph Bromley for a clearer picture of what the true "golden age" of railroading was like.

We would call them the 'bad old days' of railroading because of the changed in attitude and the perspective we have these days. To train crew in 19th century railroading, things like being crushed between cars or losing fingers to pin and link couplers were part of the job, as were horrible train accidents caused by the lack of good brakes. Being on the roof of a freight car turning a brake wheel in a blizzard or at night is a frightening thing, but to them it was probably a nerve wracking part of the job, but it was that.

 Romanticizing the dangers of a job, or the difficulty of it, is something old men do looking back, sneering at the young whippersnappers with how easy they have it is part of looking back, it doesn't mean it was necessarily a golden age either. My dad saw that as he got older with people romanticizing the Great Depression, talking about how hard times made people come together and how facing adversity "hardened them", and my dad's comment was that all it did was make people have empty bellies, and those who romanticize it have either not lived it, and were relatively well off, or have deliberately forgotten.

It leaves out a lot of things to call that a golden age, it leaves that railroad workers were basically seen like intelligent cattle, that if they got hurt or killed it was sad, but plenty more of them where it came from, companies would routinely require workers to work longer hours, often for less pay, when the company wanted to make more money, and as is typical for business, saw safety as something that cost them money and didn't provide a return, and that if workers didn't like the conditions or money, there were plenty who would take the jobs. I'll also add that maybe the workers didn't quite see it as a time when they had their own engines entirely, one thing to remember is that some of the first attempts at organizing labor was with the railroads, the Brotherhood of engineers and firemen were one of the first attempts at organized labor in this country, and they organized over wages and hours, but also safety as well, they may have been resigned to the dangers, but doesn't mean they saw them as no big deal, either.

The irony, of course, is that things like rail crews with regular hours, with the knuckle coupler and the air brake, that trains became even more profitable, the true golden age of railroad profits happened well after the safety stuff was mandated by law, and after crew hours and such were regulated by labor deals and law and train crews had organized. The safety factors meant they could ship more goods with less lost time to accidents and of course the loss of the freight or people that caused lawsuits, which meant more profit...as Eddie Valiant said in "Who Framed Roger Rabbit" 'Pencil pushers, may they all die of lead poisoning'. 

Hi White, as he was familiarly called, was an engineer on the same road with me. He had been running there for over ten years and was universally acknowledged to be one of the most competent and careful men that ever pulled a plug on a locomotive.  He had had the usual number of scrapes for a man of his profession some terribly tragic and others quite comic in their termination. Of the latter was a trip he used to refer to as "making a morning call under difficulties."

  Hi used to run the morning express or "Shanghe Run" which left the Southern terminus of our road at 6 in the morning.  It was a fast run, making the length of our road (141 miles) in 3 and a half hours.  Hi ran the engine, the Columbia, a fast machine with 7 foot driving wheels and a strong inclination to mount the rail and leave the track on the slightest provocation.  About midway of the road there was a large brick house standing back about a rod or two from the track and on the outside of a very sharp curve. As Hi was passing the curve one day, running at full speed, some slight obstruction caused the Columbia to leave the track, breaking the coupling between it and the train leaving the coaches on the track.

  Away went the Columbia , making the gravel fly until she met with an obstruction in the shape of this very brick house, which the engine struck square in the broadside, and with characteristic contempt of slight obstacles crashed its way through the wall and on to the parlor floor, which, being made for lighter tread, gave way and precipitated the engine into the cellar beneath, leaving only the hind end of the tender sticking out of the breach in the wall.  Hi, who had jumped off at the first symptom of this furious onslaught looked to see if there were any dead or wounded on this charge of his heavy brigade. Seeing the both he and his fireman were safe he turned his attention to the Columbia which he found "slightly injured but safely housed" lying coolly among pork barrels, apple bins, and potato heaps evidently with no present probability of continuing its present course. By this time the people of the house, who were at breakfast in the farther part of the building when the furious incursion upon their domestic economy took place, came rushing out, not knowing whether to meet friend or rebel foe.  Very naturally, the first question shouted at Hi, who was renewing vegetable matter for present rumination (i.e. taking a chew of tobacco) was, "What's the matter?"

   Hi coolly surveyed the frightened group and replied, "Matter - nothing's the matter I only thought I would call on you this morning and pray.  Don't put yourself to any trouble on my account!"

From Trips in the Life of a Locomotive Engineer – Dawson - 1863

from:  A Treasury of Railroad Folklore (1953)

Way back ... in the 1830's, when the engineer had no cab ... sheltering his eyes in time of severe storm with a shingle; when cars were lighted by candles if the train was caught out after dark, which wasn't often; when the Michigan Central's water tank at Chicago was filled by a windmill; when there were turn-tables ... so small that even the little engines of that day and their tenders had to be turned separately; when the rule was that in case of a breakdown en route, the brakeman must borrow a horse from the nearest farm and go in search of "help", whatever that might be (perhaps a blacksmith); and in case a train didn't show up at a terminal for a couple of hours after it was due, the agent was to go out along the line on horseback looking for it ...

We hear of other curious practices before the railroads settled down into the modern routine: of conductors choosing their own brakemen, engineers hiring their own firemen. Throughout most of the Nineteenth Century, an engineer had his own engine ...

As the conductors collected a great many fares on the trains, some of them became suspiciously prosperous ...

Freight conductors also collected the charges on freight, often by guesswork, as there were seldom any scales in the stations, and quite as often no tariff sheets ... For a long time, some roads got along with very few station agents, and freight conductors often had to seek out the consignees, perhaps far out in the country, to collect charges on a shipment, while the train waited. They collected in advance whenever possible ...

As for the freight brakeman, of other days, his lot was almost too pitiable to contemplate; skidding about, perhaps in zero weather, on the roofs of wildly swaying freight cars, often covered with ice or snow, twisting brake wheels for dear life; and in early decades with no caboose in which to take shelter, nothing but the little engine cab - after they appeared - which was usually pretty crowded; losing a finger or two, perhaps half a hand in a link-and-pin coupling or missing his footing and losing a leg or his life. Today the air takes care of his braking, and he rides in a caboose which has many of the features of a club car.

pic from "Our Hospitality"

To add to that, it is little known that the earliest railroads were considered "public highways"   and operated like toll roads.  Anyone with a (horse-drawn) wagon or carriage that fit the track gauge could pay a fee to use it. 

Interestingly, I believe that a similar situation now exists in the U.K.   The tracks are owned by one company and private train companies (passenger and freight) pay for time slots to use them.  Can anyone verify this ?

Keep 'em coming, Ace. Great reading.

....and let's not forget the night operators at the stations....

" (For my first job) I was given a pass to Alfreda, Kansas (near the border between Kansas and Colorado) and directed to assume charge of the night office at that point at the magnificent salary of $37.50 per month.  When I arrived I saw that the only things in sight were a water-tank, a pump house, and my telegraph office.  The office was simply the bed of a box-car, taken off the trucks and set down with one end towards the track. A small platform, two windows, a door, and the signal board perched high on a pole completed the outfit.  I arrived at six-thirty in the morning and there wasn't a soul in sight.  The only house around was two miles up the track and the nearest town was 12 miles in the other direction.   

  About a month after I started work we had our first real storm.  It was a black night and before I left for work the pumper, who checked the water tank pumps up and down the line, mentioned that it was "goin' to be a woild night."  I knew of the Kansas reputation as a cyclone state and my box-car office was not well adapted to stand a hurricane.  I began my work taking and sending train orders. About twelve-thirty in the morning my door slammed open and a man stepped quickly in. He wore a long overcoat and a slouch hat pulled well down over his eyes. He gruffly asked "What time is there a passenger train east to-night."  

  I answered that the Overland Flyer was due at about half past one but that it would not stop at Alfreda.  Quick as a flash he pulled a revolver and poking it in my face, said "Young man, you turn your red-light and stop that train or I'll make a vacancy in this office mighty d---d quick."  I decided discretion was the better part of valor so I did as he ordered.  Meanwhile the door again opened and three masked men entered and it was then that I knew they intended to rob the Overland Flyer.  

  I was standing with my back to the table and, listening to the click of the telegraph, I head the despatcher say that the Flyer was 30 minutes late from the west.  I put my hand quietly behind me and let the right rest on the key. I then carefully opened the key and had just begun to speak to the despatcher when one of the men suspected me. I stopped, closed the key, and was trying to look unconcerned when two of the men jumped me and bound and gagged me "to stop all chances of trouble."  They tied me securely, and thrust a villainously dirty gag in my mouth.  When this was done the leader said,"Throw him across those blamed instruments so they will keep quiet.  They threw me face downwards on the table so that the relay was just under my stomach, and of course my weight against the armature of the relay stopped the clicking of the sounder.  

  My left hand was in such a position that it just touched the key and I found I could move my hand slightly.  So I opened the key and pretended to be struggling quite a little.  The leader came over and punched me in the ribs and ordered me to stop.  I became passive and then when they were once again engaged in earnest conversation I began to telegraph softly to the despatcher.  With the relay shut off with my weight there was no noise from the sounder and I sent so slowly that the key was noiseless.  I told the exact state of affairs and asked that the Flyer not heed my red light and go on through.  I sent the message twice and then waited.  The cords and gags were beginning to hurt and the minutes dragged slowly by.  All of a sudden I heard the long calliope whistle of the engine on the Flyer as she came down the grade.  She gave two short blasts, indicating that she had seen my red light and was going to stop.   

  I couldn't believe it.  My message hadn't gotten through. As soon as she whistled the men went out and left me lying across the table.  I heard the engine stop at the tank and then, in about a second, I heard the most delightful, liveliest fusillade that I had ever heard in my life....a posse was on board and the robbers were foiled.  One robber was shot and two were captured.  The fourth, whom the others called "Bill" ran back toward my house and I heard him say,"I'll fix that d----d operator." Then BANG! crash, and a bullet buried itself in the table not two inches from my head.  I wasn't killed but I did pass out. When I came two I was surrounded by a crowd of passengers and trainmen...and a doctor who happened to be on board.  

  The next evening when I returned to work the telegraph was sounding a message for me-close up my office and come east on the Flyer and report for duty the next day at the despatchers office.    That is how I won my first promotion"   

From Tales of the Telegraph-1899-Brady

Kent Loudon posted:

To add to that, it is little known that the earliest railroads were considered "public highways"   and operated like toll roads.  Anyone with a (horse-drawn) wagon or carriage that fit the track gauge could pay a fee to use it. 

Interestingly, I believe that a similar situation now exists in the U.K.   The tracks are owned by one company and private train companies (passenger and freight) pay for time slots to use them.  Can anyone verify this ?

Yes, it's a whole mess of operating companies now. I think there's one outfit that does track maintenance and signalling, somebody else that does station operation, and then the train companies themselves, plus a regulatory agency or two. Probably some overlapping, but things seem to change very time they have a major mess-up, bankruptcy, management scandal, etc. 

http://www.networkrail.co.uk/aspx/773.aspx         http://www.networkrail.co.uk/  

   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Railtrack

from   A Treasury of Railroad Folklore   (1953)

In the Link and Pin Days

... Freight cars had only hand brakes and link and pin couplers; this meant the cars had to be coupled by hand.

Dan watched a group of boomer (transient) brakemen and switchmen come in the yards and ask for work. The yardmaster asked them to hold up their hands in lieu of references. If the applicants had several fingers missing, the yardmaster knew they were "old timers" and would be able to go on the job as experienced workers and not students.

My ADHD demands that I read everything I see or have time too. junk shop find a box of mid 30's to aug of 1940 RailRoad Magazine.  Killer stories of old time railroading.   Boomer Jones stories  Slippery  Buck and the streamliner  real railroad story section black and white pics  A double headed GS4 daylight on an  S curve, or the pic of one of NYC enclosed shay switchers, they had five.  But the best part is reading the personals in information booth,   Addresses or info about these four old-time switchmen will be appreciated:  "Ole Melly Boy" Walker,  "Hook and-Eye Red" Bertrand,  "one-Round Petey" Snell, and "Just One More Grove" Green.  Years ago I worked with these "imbibers" at the Forbes & Frieberts yard, Cicero, Ill.   GABE ("Old Butsy Boy") Huber, Stevens Hotel Chicago.  Just the names sound like A Hangover Movie.  So old... no address needed.

How the "Nickel Plate" Railroad got its name

There are various different accounts about who first coined the phrase in the 1880's, ranging from Jay Gould to other personalities or newspaper accounts. In any case, back in those days "nickel plate" typically referred to something that was expensive or of high quality. It became a convenient moniker in place of the full name "New York Chicago & St Louis" or initials "NYC&StL" (especially considering that the road never actually got to New York City).

Another theory about the origin of the "Nickel Plate" name is that the "nickel" part derived from the initials "NYCL".

Phoebe Snow jingles (from about 1900 - 1914)

Says Phobe Snow, about to go, upon a trip to Buffalo
"My gown stays white, from morn to night, Upon the Road of Anthracite."

 The man in blue now helps her through
And tells her when her train is due.
"He's so polite. They do things right
Upon the Road of Anthracite."

Now Phoebe Snow direct can go
From Thirty-third to Buffalo.
From Broadway bright the "Tubes" run right
Into the Road of Anthracite.

Now Phoebe may by night or day
Enjoy her book upon the way -
Electric light dispels the night
Upon the Road of Anthracite.

The evening flies till Phoebe's eyes
Grow sleepy under mountain skies.
Sweet dreams at night are hers till light
Dawns on the Road of Anthracite.

No trip is far where comforts are.
An observation Lounging Car
Adds new delight to Phoebe's flight
Along the road to Anthracite.

This scene reveals a chef on wheels
With care preparing Phoebe's meals.
He too, wears white, from morn till night
Upon the Road of Anthracite.

On railroad trips no other lips
Have touched the cup that Phoebe sips.
Each cup of white makes drinking quite
A treat on Road of Anthracite.

Miss Snow draws near the cab to cheer
The level-headed engineer,
Whose watchful sight makes safe her flight
Upon the road of Anthracite.

Miss Snow, you see, was sure to be
The object of much courtesy,
For day or night they're all polite
Upon the Road of Anthracite.

The stars now peep at her asleep,
While track-men keen their night watch keep.
For Phoebe's flight must be all right
Upon the Road of Anthracite.

Ace, I've appreciated the excerpts from your book. Thank you.

Dan Weinhold