Railroad Magazine, Vol. XXIII, No. 1, December, 1937, Paged 63-64
Grudges Against the Railroad
By Watson B. Berry
A whole book could be written about grudges against the railroad, especially in the early days when “robber barons” like Jay Gould, Jim Fiske, Daniel Drew, Russell Sage, etc., cheated the traveling public, the shipping public and the investing public.
It is well known how such men manipulated railroad stocks to their own advantage, how they charged extortionate rates, and how they put huge profits into their own pockets instead of improving the service and paying decent wages.
Thousands of passengers were killed or maimed in accidents caused by penny-pinching officials, and thousands of small investors were victimized by stock juggling. And many land-owners felt they were unjustly deprived of land which railroad builders had “confiscated” by due process of law.
No wonder the old-time corporations were regarded with suspicion and hatred. No wonder many farmers “sold” their livestock to the railroads at fancy prices by making gaps in the right-of-way fences and letting their animals roam the tracks to almost certain doom. No wonder shyster lawyers recovered big damages at the hands of sympathetic juries. No wonder slightly injured passengers took to their beds, sued the railroads, and won settlements far in excess of what their injuries warranted.
The other day two veteran engineers at Rouse’s Point, N. Y., were discussing the old Ogdensburg & Lake Champlain Railroad and its successor, the Rutland’s O&LC Division. One of the men remarked that in its entire 87 years the O&LC had never killed a passenger nor had a major accident.
“The nearest thing to it,” he continued, “happened near Wood’s Falls about 56 years ago, when four persons were killed, not at one time but as a result of one accident and a grudge growing out of it;” and he told the story.
“Two children playing on a culvert were killed by a westbound express. Instead of blaming herself for letting them play on the track, their mother denounced the engine crew. Shortly afterward - on March 1, 1881 - we had an early thaw. The water was up over the tracks on Rouse’s Point bridge and the ice was going out of rivers all along the line. The crew of the westbound express out of Rouse’s Point (Jim Chambers, engineer, and Petrie, fireman) had orders to run slow.
“Now, it happened that the track was washed out over the very culvert where the youngsters had met death. The mother knew it, too; knew that if the train wasn’t stopped before it hit the culvert there would be a wreck. But that woman wanted revenge, and she let the train pile up, killing both Chambers and Petrie, although as she learned later - neither of those two men had been members of the crew whose train killed the children.”
Grudges against the railroad are not always tragic. Take the case of Asa O. Bushnell, of Derby, Conn. Those of you who lived in Derby in the spring of 1890 will recall that Henry I. Hazelton was editor of the town’s newspaper, The Derby Transcript, as well as local correspondent for The Sun and other New York papers. Henry was always on the lookout for big news. But nothing important seemed to happen till the night the Derby station of the old Naugatuck branch of the New Haven was robbed by safe-crackers.
The local police could find no clue. Hazelton said to himself:
“If I can get the inside of this, maybe I can land a good job on one of the New York papers.”
He knew everyone in Derby, including Mr. Bushnell, who lived in a little house near the depot. The newspaperman was aware that Bushnell had a grudge against the Naugatuck, because when the road was built it had taken part of Asa’s land; the tracks were laid between Asa’s home and
the river, depriving him of his boathouse and free access to the water.
Acting on a hunch, Hazelton walked down to Asa’s house. The old gent was contentedly puffing his corncob pipe.
“Asa,” began the reporter, “I suppose you’ve heard of the station robbery?”
“Yep,” said Asa. “Know all about it.”
The reporter pricked up his ears. “You do, eh? Why haven’t you told the police?”
“Don’t want to help the darned old Naugatuck any,” Mr. Bushnell replied.
“Still sore on the Naugatuck?”
“Sure am.”
“Tell me what you know.”
“Well, bub, I know you're editin’ The Derby Transcript and I hope you'll print what I tell you. Now, I saw that robbery. I was a-settin’ up around two o’clock in the mornin’ with a tarnation toothache. I
seen two fellers a comin’ up the tracks. They come right up to the depot and pried up a winder and climbed right in. Pretty soon they got out a dark lantern and began drillin’ away on the safe.
“I never seen a safe drilled before. It was real interestin’, After a while they poured some stuff in the holes and went down the tracks a piece. Then come a puff of smoke in the depot and they come back and I could see them scoop up the change. They went off down the tracks toward Bridgeport, and I hope they got away. I think they was real nice boys.
“Before the railroad was built I had one of the purtiest places in Derby with a little arbor down by the river. The railroad spoiled my place. And, bub, if anybody would blow up the whole darned road, it would suit me perfect. Put that in the paper. Say that Asa O. Bushnell told you that the whole damned Naugatuck Railroad could go to hell.”
Next day The Sun printed a front-page story of the Derby robbery; and a week later Henry Hazelton was launched on a brilliant newspaper career that is not ended yet. All because of one man’s grudge against a railroad.
