Way back when, few insurance companies would write policies for railroaders — their jobs were considered too risky. Early in the 20th Century (and before the various “Safety First” campaigns that we still see today), a dozen railroaders – on average — died on the job each day. On any given day, tens or hundreds more were injured or maimed.
So railroaders set up their own group insurance plans and mutual benefit associations. The idea of a pension was not new. But an industrial pension program so that employees could expect to retire (rather than work until they died) was largely a railroad innovation. The first plans emerged in the early 1880s and led to the creation of the Railroad Retirement Board in 1934, which was the model for the Social Security Act a year later.
Credits: Pix and text from Working on the Railroad, Kalmbach 2011 – Submitted by Gary Ostlund
At 70 miles per hour, this Kansas City bound Piggybacker will disappear across the Oklahoma prairie as quickly as the sky darkens in the vivid sunset. You probably have never heard of Avard, but to a railfan, this is a “hot spot.” This line in northwestern Oklahoma was the Santa Fe mainline. Now as the Burlington Northern Santa Fe’s “Transcon,” these rails see more action than ever, over a hundred trains a day. Gary Ostlund
Photo credit: Tom Post, David P. Oroszi collection
Eastbound just exited Tunnel #11 atop the Continental Divide – Pipestone Pass. We recently discussed the train whistles, and to a short extent the signal calls. Two longs, a short followed by another long is a highway grade crossing warning. Three longs alert the whole train crew the intent to put the train in a reverse movement. Switchmen and brakemen on the ground would usually communicate by hand signal, or by kerosene lanterns in darkness, and respond to whistle signals as appropriate. Widespread railroad radio communications only goes back to the 40s & 50s.
When a train made an unscheduled stop out on the mainline, for any reason, a flagman was dispatched from the caboose. He was equipped with a flag, lantern, fusee (flares) and track torpedoes. It was up to him to make the train secure from any following movement. How far to the rear was dictated by the highest speed allowed on that track segment.
Upon removal of the cause for the delay, the engineer would “whistle-in” the flagman. After waiting for a reasonable time the train would slowly get underway, assuming the flagman recovered from his position and was aboard the caboose.
There were instances where the flagman may not hear the call; canyons, heavy tree foliage, unrelated noise, like highways, waterfalls, storm conditions, etc., even other trains, like across the river. More than one flagman got left behind. A good Conductor would not let that happen. His method to prevent abandonment was to open the air-brake valve and disallow the brakes from releasing. The engineer would know what is happening by the lack of air-pressure building in the train-line.*
Getting left behind up in the mountains or out in the desert had to be on the mind of that lonely flagman. I guess worse than that would be stranded adjacent to an alligator-filled Southern swamp, in the middle of the night. I don’t think they paid these guys enough.
* A discussion on air-brakes may be in order, for another day. Notice the Milwaukee Road used “Bay-window cabeese.” Photo credit: Tom Post, David P. Oroszi collection, May 1973, fourteen months prior to wires coming down. (rear cover The Milwaukee Railroader mag. 2nd Qtr. 2014) – Gary O. Ostlund
Summit of Continental Divide, at Donald siding, Pipestone Pass, Montana – 1973 – We have at least three things going on here. The eastbound freight will soon descend about 2 thousand feet into the Jefferson River valley. The grade is a steep 2% compensated. The 3-unit set of boxcab helpers were apparently on the point climbing out of Butte, and not needed for regenerative braking. They ducked into the siding when the train stopped, it’s nose barely out of the tunnel, just out of view to the left. The Speeder (putt-putt) will follow the train vigilantly watching as a fire preventive.
During fire season down bound trains were shadowed by water-equipped speeders. Even with the motor/units up front applying regenerative braking some air-brake use is often needed. That involved brake shoes pressing on spinning wheels, with sparks always swirling along the right-of-way.
This scene was in the Summer of 1973 at Donald, the summit of Pipestone Pass and the Continental Divide. The train climbed out of the Clarks Fork River drainage that leads to the Columbia River and the Pacific Ocean. Ahead the train drops into the Missouri River watershed leading to the Mississippi and Gulf.
The helper crew, Engineer Fred Coombes and Fireman Del Hart are still in the cab hidden by the boxcar. Del Hart is the former engineer that wrinkled up the Little Joe E-78 in Sixteen Mile Canyon on May 23, 1966. Hart was fired, rehired after good union representation, but restricted to fireman status on the Butte Helper, only. He eventually retired from that position, and has since passed. I knew both Coombes and Hart. Coombes lived in Butte, Hart had a place about half way up the pass adjacent to the mainline.
Coombes was #1 seniority in the division, and a fellow church member. He knew I was an avid railfan, but straight-laced as he was, he never even let me up in the cab the many times I saw him hooking up and trekking over the pass. He retired when the electrics ended in 74, and moved to Seattle with his wife of many years. I once asked him why as #1 on engineer’s roster that he didn’t bid on some glamorous hotshot freight run. With a twinkle in his eye he stated; “ I sleep in my own bed every night.”
In a year the Milwaukee electrics will be history, and in 1980 the entire system west of the Red River of the North will shut down. The roadway behind the helper is Old US Highway 10, by then downgraded by I-90, about 7 miles the way the crow flies to the north. The Milwaukee Road favored bay-window type caboose, and the tri-level auto racks are open to the elements. Why they are now completely enclosed, and the wreck of the E-78 are stories for another time. – Gary O. Ostlund
Above: Hands-on Whistle Display at the Museum of American Railroads, State Fairgrounds, Dallas, TX – 1998
The working display of steam whistles was a popular attraction at the Museum of American Railroads in Dallas. An air compressor rather than live steam provided the real whistling, with a lanyard for each type shown. This very noisy display commanded a lot attention……, the kids loved it, some big kids did too.
Railroad engineers don’t blow the locomotive whistle just for the fun of it, although that’s what you might have thought in years past, when you heard unusual series of dots and dashes coming from a steam whistle or air horn. In the era prior to radio and other modern communications the locomotive whistle signals were extremely important in safe train movement. Most of the many signals are no longer used, even the flagman’s job has been eliminated along with brakemen and most switchmen, along with the caboose.
“Whooooooooo Whooooooooo whoo Whooooooo,” is the most familiar train whistle used as a warning for the highway grade crossing. That last Whoooooo is to be the moment the engine actually crosses the highway. As an aside: Dash-Dash-Dot-Dash is the Morse Code letter “Q.” That signal was used by the Queen of England’s yacht when entering a harbor, to announce her arrival. (probably also meant get the heck out of the way…)
Another whistle signals still in use today is: three long bursts for “I’m about to back up.” You may hear that signal down at the harbor too when a large ship is about to move astern.
Steam whistles used by American railroads were almost always chosen for their ability to be heard over great distances and to stand out over other noises and whistles of the day. Not all American railroads used deep sounding whistles. The Pennsylvania, for example, used a shrieking single note or “banshee” sound. Most mainline railroads preferred either a three-note or six-note whistle with the most popular being the three-chime version.
Fast moving steam locomotives generally had an air-horn to supplement the whistle, as at speeds of 80 -90 even a hundred miles per hour, the air-horn provided warnings at a greater range.
Credits: Photo by Mitchael K. Ostlund – Excerpts from Trains Magazines Feb 50 and Sep 2014 – Note: The Museum has since moved from Dallas to Frisco, TX. The fate of the display is not known. – Gary O. Ostlund
Way back when, few insurance companies would write policies for railroaders — their jobs were considered too risky. Early in the 20th Century (and before the various “Safety First” campaigns that we still see today), a dozen railroaders – on average — died on the job each day. On any given day, tens or hundreds more were injured or maimed.
