Southern Dutchess News, January 3, 1990
The train wreck in 1871 at New Hamburg resulted in 22 deaths and raised many questions about the safety of trains, risk of human error and the quality of equipment. John Perillo is a local historian who researches significant events in the history of southwestern Dutchess County.
February of 1871 began amidst a two week record breaking cold wave. Subzero temperatures continued throughout the night of the 6th as a 25-car freight train known as "Extra Number Three" left Greenbush, New York, bound along the Hudson River for points south. The wheels and axles were inspected prior to departure.
The extreme weight of a train laden with oil filled tank cars and the fact that iron wheels become brittle in the bitter cold, meant that the possibility of an accident would be ever-present. Edgar Underwood, the conductor, took the usual precautions, but being a practical man he didn't feel that it was necessary to obey the new safety rule of stringing a bell rope through the cars to signal the engineer in an emergency. The train was, in his opinion, "too long" for a cold night, Underwood's brother, Charles, the middle brakeman, rode in the caboose with the conductor and rear brakeman. It was customary for the brakemen to take alternate turns in the caboose on cold nights, but on an oil train, there just isn't much room to move safely from car to car.
At the 30th Street depot in New York City, the "Second Pacific Express", pulled by an engine named the "Constitution," was leaving for Albany, Buffalo and points west. Although due to leave at 8 p.m., it was six minutes behind time. John Toucey, the railroad superintendent, told the engineer to take it easy and not to try and make up any lost time. Most of the road now had steel rails, but a few sections were still of iron and would surely be brittle on a night like this. Both trains headed for their destinations. The express was running further behind time because as the fireman had put it, "she just wasn't steaming right." He blamed the cold night and perhaps bad coal.
The oil train exited the tunnel just north of the New Hamburg station. It was 10.17 p.m. Dan Carroll, the station switchman, noticed sparks flying out from under one of the oil cars near the middle of the train. It was a broken axle. Carroll did not see a middle brakeman to warn about the damage, so he signaled the men in the caboose.
As the damaged car passed the switch just south of the station, the axle parted. The car bounced up and down as the train went along. The men in the caboose tried to signal the engineer, but there was no bell rope. They tried to signal the front brakeman with lanterns. Re was supposed to be watching the rear of the train for signals, but was busy shoveling coal for the fireman who would let him do this on cold nights to keep warm. The conductor and brakemen worked frantically at the brakes in an effort to stop the train, but it continued toward the drawbridge over the Wappinger Creek.
The car struck a bridge piling, parting violently from the car in front of it. It flipped over and came to rest at an angle across the northbound track.
The engineer, who had been slowing down to stop for water, felt the jolt and the load lighten. He told the brakeman not to apply the brakes because he believed that the rear part of the train would run up on him. He didn't know then that the remainder of the rear of the train had already come to a stop on the bridge. Dan Carroll knew that another freight would probably be on the heels of this one, so he ran back to stop it. Meanwhile, the engineer, realizing that the rear of the train was not coming up on him, brought the train to a stop.
Knowing that something was wrong and that the express would be there any minute, he grabbed a red light and yelled to the flagman to the tower to do the same. They ran down the track to signal the danger.
The express was 17 minutes late by now and about a mile south. The men at the tower could see the Constitution's big headlight approaching as they tried to warn her. Passengers on the express were beginning to settle down for the night. On the Buffalo sleeper, Reverend Fowler and his wife had put their three children to bed. Arthur and Julia Pease were in the parlor chatting with George Benedict and Albert Gillett, all of whom were acquainted.
The engineer of the express could faintly see two red lights and a white light, but he couldn't be sure, because the headlight of the oil train overpowered the lanterns. Besides, he knew that trains usually stopped at the Old Troy tower for water, so he thought it to be just a precaution.
He asked the fireman if he could see, but after staring into a glowing furnace all night, he wasn't much help. The engineer took no chances. He signaled the brakemen with three blasts of the whistle. He ordered the fireman to apply the patent brakes, but they didn't seem to hold. He threw the engine in-to reverse. The fireman, realizing that the train wouldn't stop in time, leaped to safety. Brakemen and conductors alike were applying brakes throughout the express.
Patent brakes, which were designed for coaches, were no match for the large sleepers. The train's speed slackened, but it didn't stop.
The locomotive plunged into the derailed tank car. There was an explosion upon impact. A blazing inferno ensued which could be seen throughout the countryside. The baggage and express cars, thrown from the track, were destroyed in the explosion. The Buffalo sleeper was laying on its side on the bridge and burning. The next two sleepers were also ablaze, but the passengers were evacuated.
All of the tank cars and the bridge became engulfed in flames. The passengers and crew uncoupled the last three cars and pushed them off the bridge to safety, a feat which would have been impossible had the patents taken hold. Within seconds, the burning bridge collapsed, sending the Buffalo sleeper and the other burning cars to the icy waters below. No one escaped. Only the crackling of the flames could be heard. Within seconds, the Pacific Express was reduced to a pile of rubble.
William T. Garner Engine Company sped to the scene from nearby Wappingers Falls. Rescuers were beginning to arrive from all over New Hamburg. Conductors from other freight trains began the gruesome task of recovering bodies, while the local people opened their doors to survivors. The superintendent of the railroad went to the scene to take personal charge of the recovery operations. A work train with a crane was dispatched from Poughkeepsie, while a baggage car was placed on a side track to be used as a temporary morgue.
Telegraph lines from New York to Chicago echoed with word of the disaster. The newspapers were filled with rumors. Many of the state's legislators were on the train. although none were involved, Tammany Hall feared a loss of a Democratic majority in the Legislature.
"Passengers Roasted Alive" exclaimed the New York Times. Death tolls ranged as high as 70. Doctors were sent to the scene by the railroad to aid the injured. A special train was also sent to carry the survivors on to their destinations. By noon, 19 bodies had been recovered, while grapplers searched for more. The telegraph inquiries became so numerous that the railroad had to establish an information bureau in New York to deal with them. Bodies were sent to Poughkeepsie by rail, put on sleighs and taken to Mallory's undertaking parlor, where relatives were beginning to arrive to claim their dead loved ones.
Dr. Charles Andrus, Dutchess County coroner, along with Tristram Coffin, the district attorney, began to empanel a jury for a coroner's inquest. Meanwhile, the Railroad Committee of the State Legislature announced that they would begin hearing testimony about the accident..
Northbound trains were bypassing the area via the Dutchess and Columbia Railroad to points north. The sleeper was raised on February 9 and the bridge reopened. The 3:10 out of New York, and bound for Montreal, was the first train to pass. Passengers strained for a glimpse as the train slowed.
Many who were reported killed were now being heard from. A more accurate account of the names of the victims was being compiled. Three people remained unaccounted for: Doc Simmons, the engineer, Lawrence Mooney, the brakeman, and an unknown man said to have been riding on the engine.
A woman named Sarah Bennett arrived at New Hamburg saying that she was looking for her husband who was believed to have been on the express. She was taken to Poughkeepsie to identify some clothing. She claimed to have seen his hat, but the name on the inside proved to be different. Managing to evoke the sympathies of the local citizens, a collection was taken for her and her child. She spent the money on alcohol, and after becoming quite drunk, was proclaimed an imposter. She took a south bound train, but was arrested by railroad detectives at Tarrytown and returned to Poughkeepsie. She was later released and sent on her way.
At the wreck, chains were being attached to the engine in order for it to be raised by a crane. The attempt proved unsuccessful. Under the direction of the railroad's master mechanic, they raised the engine about six feet through the use of hydraulic pumps and screw levers. They then had to reinforce the scaffolding. The engine remained suspended on chains, swinging in the tide while all work had to be stopped because of the severe snowstorm.
On February 13, the locomotive was raised, but no bodies were found aboard. A diver sent down to probe the debris discovered Mooney's body. Simmons and the other man were later found. He turned out to be James Humphrey, an out-of-work engineer. He was receiving a courtesy ride to Albany to look for work. In his pocket were two watches. One was stopped at 10:22, the other three minutes later.
The jury at the coroner's inquest continued to hear testimony and was expected to soon deliberate. They were told to consider the following facts:
Did the crew of the oil train faithfully perform their duties? Would the broken axle have been discovered had the middle brakeman been at his proper post? Would he have been able to signal the engineer? Would the forward brakeman have been able to see the signals from the rear of the train, had he not been shoveling coal? Was the conductor of the oil train guilty of allowing the brakemen to be at places other than their assigned posts?
Was he guilty of not stringing the bell rope? Were proper procedures used? Should the men on the ground have run down the track with the signals or to the tower? Does the rule that the tower lights only be changed when the bridge is open, apply in an emergency? Was Doc Simmons wrong in signaling for brakes prior to reversing the engine (a rule of the railroad)?
Jurors heard ten days of testimony, many times conflicting. Who then was wrong?
Was it the crew of the oil train who were not at their proper posts?
Was the ground crew wrong in not giving adequate signaling? Was it the engineer on the express for not recognizing the signals and using "by-the-book" procedure to stop the train?
On February 22, the jury arrived at a verdict. They placed full blame on the engineer of the express for not signaling for brakes and reversing the engine in the exact order as prescribed by the railroad rulebook.
It seemed to be an easy way out, blaming a dead man. What about the oil train? Was it a fact that of the seven men on the jury, one was a public official, two others were officers of railroads, and the others were all well-to-do citizens and perhaps even stockholders of railroads?
The testimony continued in Albany, but was so conflicting that blame could not be placed. It was decided that a report would be prepared for both houses of the Legislature in order for them to draw their own conclusion. The report was, however, "accidently" destroyed in a fire at the printer's office. This made the matter too late to be acted upon by the Legislature and therefore dropped from discussion.
The New York Times of April 15, 1871, in reporting the outcome of the Legislative hearings, summed up rather sarcastically: "The great railroad Legislature of 1871 has made another claim to the title."
*****
The configuration of each train: Extra Number Three - one engine and tender, six express oil cars, two box cars, two tank cars, one stock car, seven tank cars, four cattle cars, two box cars, one caboose.
The Second Pacific Express - one engine and tender, one express car, one baggage car, five Wagner sleeping cars, one coach car.
The car with the broken axle was the lead tank car in the group. Extra Number Three.
Killed in the collision: George S. Benedict, William C. Curry, Walter H. Forbush, Agnes S. Fowler, Mary P. Fowler, Rev. Morell J. Fowler, Morell W. Fowler, Robert H. Fowler, Rollin Germain, Albert A. Gillett, James Humphrey, Capt. H.R. Lovell, Lawrence E. Mooney, Dr. Samuel J.G. Nancrede, Arthur W. Pease, Julia T. Pease, Lucias A. Root, Edward Simmons, James Stafford, George R. Thompson, Robert Vosburgh, Peter H. Vosburgh.
The Great New Hamburg Fire - 1877
This account of a fire which threatened the town of New Hamburg in 1877 was compiled from contemporary newspapers.
It was just past midweek, about 9 p.m. in the riverside village of New Hamburg. The date was May 3, 1877. A typical spring in the Hudson Valley. The annual shad migration on the river had been in full swing, while those businesses and industries which had closed or slowed for the winter were, by now, geared up for the new season.
The village was quiet at this hour. Many of the people had begun to settle in for the evening. Occasionally. a barking dog or the creak of a sloop, rocking at anchor, could be heard.
Frank Luyster, a boarder at the Madison House, was suddenly awakened by a woman boarder who told him that something was burning. After hurriedly dressing, he searched for the fire, discovering it in the alley between the Madison House (a hotel) and Frank Myers's store, opposite the railroad depot.
It was a pile of discarded boxes and straw from egg barrels. Frank Myers's store, which was said to be one of the finest country stores in Dutchess County, was an integral part of the community. The local citizens, as well as commercial enterprises, had depended on it since 1860.
Luyster tried in vain to stamp out the fire which had by then spread to the store. The kerosene room caught fire. Suddenly there was a violent explosion! Uncontrollable flames raced throughout the building. A general alarm was sounded. People raced from their homes to the conflagration and organized a bucket brigade.
Numerous attempts were made by courageous men in an effort to save some of the store's contents, but smoke and flame were just too intense. Containers of every description were used to bring water to the fire, but to no avail.
The fire had spread south to the Madison House, as well as north and around the corner to a two-story frame house on Main Street belonging to Frank Myers and occupied by J.E. Millard. A rider was sent to Wappingers
Falls, two miles away, to summon the nearest fire department, William T. Garner Engine Company.
Meanwhile, the efforts were being made by guests at the Madison House to save furniture and belongings. Items of every shape and size were being hurled from windows and the piazza. The Madison House, which had just been purchased by Jacob Madison, former owner of the Hughsonville Hotel, had been renovated for the spring and summer season.
William Barker, who was renting a tin and stove shop in the north end of the Madison House, managed to save only a few items. Before the fire department had arrived, the fire had spread to a double-frame house in the rear, which was also owned by Myers and occupied by John W. Lent and John Rafferty. It then spread to another of Myers's houses, which was occupied by Patrick Evans, as well as Myers's barn, store house and shed. In addition to Myers's property, a two-story frame house belonging to John Brooks and a one-story house owned by Walter Millard were also ablaze.
By 9:45 p.m., all were beyond saving.
The fire department arrived not a minute too soon. The Presbyterian Church stood next in the path of the flames. Hose was stretched from the river, and a stream of water was trained on the church. The flagpole in the
village square was in flames and had to be cut down for fear it would further spread the fire. Villagers worked frantically to help John Brooks and Walter Millard save whatever belongings they could. Onlookers were
arriving from Chelsea, Marlboro and Wappingers Falls. It looked like the whole village would go up.
Flames were beginning to spread across the street to James Dearin's meat market. Friends and neighbors alike put wet blankets and carpets on the front of the building in an effort to save it, while the fire department
struggled to contain the blaze.
The fire had become quite a spectacle. Some factory workers from Wappingers Falls who had been drinking rum were beginning to get out of hand. Detectives Scanlon and
Lawrence from the Hudson River Railroad managed to subdue the offenders.
In spite of all of the drawbacks, the fire was gradually brought under control. Dan Carroll, station master of the railroad depot, allowed victims to store their belongings at the warehouse for safekeeping while
neighbors opened their doors to the homeless.
The area continued to smoulder throughout the night.
Although the railroad detectives and most of the crowd had gone on their way, the men who were drinking remained. Around 3 a.m. they began to get rowdy. They broke into Myers's peddler wagon and stole some goods. They
also stole some clothes from the Lent family. They then demanded entry into the railroad depot, but Dan Carroll refused. They kicked and beat him, breaking two of his ribs. Townspeople managed to drive them off and
bring Carroll to his home in Old Troy.
The following morning all returned to survey the damage, and perhaps to speculate on the cause of the fire. Frank Myers believed that the fire started in the store and spread to the alley. Others suspected arson.
Myers said that he would rebuild immediately. John Lent and his wife were somewhat less composed. He became drunk, while she became hysterical. She ran to the river screaming that she would kill herself but then stopped,
threw up her arms in despair, and collapsed. She was taken to a friend's home to calm down. He was brought there to sleep it off.
Except for poor Dan Carroll, no one was hurt. All the animals were rescued.
Some of the people managed to rise from the ashes, while others were never heard from again.
The final tally of the damage was that the Myers family lost all of their clothing, a gold watch, furniture, four buildings, a barn, storehouse and a shed, valued at $17,000 in goods and $16,000 in buildings. He was
insured for $12,000.
John Brooks sustained losses valued at $3,000. He was partially insured. William Barker's losses were $1,500, but he was fully insured. Walter Millard's losses were $1,300, but he was not insured although his cow and
barn were saved.
Others involved sustained heavy losses, saving only some furniture. None were insured. Madison was wiped out, only some furniture remained. He chose not to rebuild. It was a bitter lesson.
New Hamburg did not have a fire department. The City of Poughkeepsie wanted to sell them "Perseverance Engine." They didn't accept. They did, however, have to pay Wappingers Falls for their services.
J.E. Millard married Frank Myers's daughter, but then died shortly after. Frank Myers, who was also the New Hamburg postmaster, remained in business until his retirement to Florida in 1895. He served for several years
as Town of Poughkeepsie supervisor.
A visit to present day New Hamburg is an architectural trip back to the Nineteenth Century, until you get to the area around Main Street and the train station where buildings are somewhat modern If anyone asks "why?", tell them about that spring night in 1877.
[Thanks to Dick Buckey for providing this article.]