Editor of "The Railway Age" and one of the official time-keepers on
the train.
[Illustration: VIEW BACK ON THE TRACK.--A SNAP-SHOT TAKEN BY MR.
ROBINSON FROM THE REAR PLATFORM OF THE LAST CAR WHEN THE TRAIN WAS
RUNNING AT ABOUT EIGHTY MILES AN HOUR.]
When, on August 22d last, a train was run over what is known as the
West Coast line (of the London and Northwestern and the Caledonian
Railways) from London to Aberdeen, a distance of 540 miles, at an
average speed, while running, of 63.93 miles an hour, the English
press hailed with a jubilation which was almost clamorous the fact
that the world's record for long distance speed rested once more with
Great Britain. From the tone which the English newspapers adopted, it
appeared that they believed that the record then made was one which
could not be beaten in this country, but that the former records of
the New York Central represented the maximum speed obtainable on an
American railway with American engines.
Undoubtedly the West Coast run was a remarkable one. But English
judges were mistaken as to the permanence of the record. It was left
unchallenged for just twenty days--or until September 11th, when the
cable carried to England the unpleasant news that the New York Central
had covered the 436.32 miles from New York to East Buffalo at
an average speed, when running, of 64.26 miles an hour--or about
one-third of a mile an hour faster than the English run.
There was still left to the Englishmen, however, a loophole for escape
from confession of defeat. It will be noticed that the distance from
New York to Buffalo is rather more than 100 miles shorter than that
from London to Aberdeen. It was yet possible for the Englishmen to
say: "We are talking only of long distance speeds. We do not consider
anything under 500 miles a long distance." The record, in fact, for a
distance of over 500 miles was still with England.
There are not many railways in the United States on which a sustained
high speed for a distance of over 500 miles would be possible. In
England the run is made, as already stated, over the connecting lines
of two companies. In this country, while not a few roads have over 500
miles of first-class track in excellent condition, there is usually at
some point in that distance an obstacle (either steep grades to cross
a mountain range, or bad curves, or a river to be ferried) sufficient
to prevent the making of a record. On the Lake Shore and Michigan
Southern, from Chicago to Buffalo, there exists no such impediment,
and between the outskirts of the two cities the distance is 510.1
miles. It was in an informal conversation between certain officers
of the Lake Shore and Michigan Southern Railway that the idea of
attempting to beat the record on this piece of track was first
suggested.
In making comparison of different runs there are other matters to be
taken into consideration besides the mere distance covered and
the speed attained. It is not possible to exactly equalize all
conditions--as, for instance, those of wind and weather, or of the
physical character of the track in the matter of grades and curves.
Entire equality in all particulars could only be attained in the same
way that it is attained in horse-racing, viz., by having trains run
side by side on parallel tracks.
Certain conditions there are, however, which are more important
and which can be equalized. One of these is the weight of the train
hauled. The English load was a light one--67 tons (English) or 147,400
pounds. This was little more than one-quarter of the load hauled by
the New York Central engine on its magnificent run, when the weight
of the cars making the train was 565,000 pounds. With the types of
locomotive used on the Lake Shore and Michigan Southern it was not
possible to haul at record-breaking speed any such load as this. It
was enough if the load should be about double that of the English
train. This was attained by putting together two heavy Wagner parlor
cars of 92,500 pounds each and Dr. Webb's private car "Elsmere," which
alone weighs 119,500 pounds--or more than three-fourths of the weight
of the entire English train. The total weight of the three Lake Shore
and Michigan Southern cars was 304,500 pounds.
The last important condition to be taken into consideration is the
number of stops made. It should be explained that when speed is
reckoned "when running" or "exclusive of stops" (the phrases mean the
same thing), the time consumed in stops is deducted--the time, that
is, when the wheels are actually at rest. No deduction however, is
made for the loss of time in slowing up to a stop or in getting under
way again. On the run of the Lake Shore and Michigan Southern, for
instance, an irregular or unexpected stop was made when the train was
running at a speed of about 71 miles an hour. The train was actually
at rest for 2 minutes and 5 seconds. That allowance, therefore, was
made for the stop. It is unnecessary to say that the secondary loss of
time in bringing the train to a standstill and in regaining speed was
much greater; but for these (aggregating probably five or six minutes)
there was no allowance. It is evident, therefore, that the number
of times that a train has to slow down and get under way again is an
important factor in the average speed of a long run. In the English
run two stops were made. The schedule for the Lake Shore run provided
for four stops. A fifth stop, as has already been stated, was made,
which was not on the programme.
[Illustration: JOHN NEWELL, LATE PRESIDENT OF THE LAKE SHORE AND
MICHIGAN SOUTHERN RAILWAY.
From a photograph by Max Platz, Chicago. President Newell died August
24, l894, and is said to have fairly sacrificed his life to giving the
Lake Shore the best railway track in America. The proud record made,
in this speed run, is largely the fruit of his labor.]
These, then, were the conditions under which the now famous run of
October 24, 1895, was accomplished: A train weighing twice as much as
the English train was to be hauled for a distance of over 500 miles,
making four stops _en route_, at a speed, when running, greater than
63.93 miles an hour. Incidentally it was hoped also that the New York
Central's speed of 64.26 miles an hour would be beaten.
No public announcement was made of the undertaking in advance, for the
sufficient reason that the gentlemen in charge were well aware of the
difficulty of the task in which they were engaged and the many
chances of failure. They had no desire to have such a failure made
unnecessarily public. No one was informed of what was in hand except
the officials and employees of the Lake Shore road, whose coöperation
was necessary, one daily newspaper (the Chicago "Tribune"), the
Associated Press, and two gentlemen who were invited to attend as
official time-keepers, Messrs. H.P. Robinson and Willard A. Smith--the
former being the editor of "The Railway Age," and the latter the
ex-chief of the Transportation Department at the Chicago World's Fair.
General Superintendent Canniff of the Lake Shore was in charge of the
train in person.
[Illustration: THE TEN-WHEEL ENGINE 564, WITH WHICH ENGINEER TUNKEY
MADE THE RUN FROM ERIE TO BUFFALO, ATTAINING A SPEED OF 92.3 MILES
AN HOUR.]
It was at two o'clock of the morning of October 24th that the train,
which had been waiting since early in the evening on a side track
in the Lake Shore station at Chicago, slipped unostentatiously away
behind a switch engine which was to haul it as far as One Hundredth
Street, where the start was to be made. Here there was a wait of
nearly an hour until the time fixed for starting--half-past three.
There was plenty to be done at the last moment to occupy the time of
waiting, however. There were last messages to be sent back to
Chicago; last orders to be sent on ahead; telegrams containing weather
bulletins, which promised fair weather all the way to Buffalo, to be
read; and, finally, the preparations to be made for time-taking.
One of the time-keepers, taking two stop-watches in his hand, started
the split-second-hands of both with one movement of his muscles,
exactly together. To one or other of these timepieces all the watches
on the train were set.
In one of the parlor cars, as nearly as might be in the middle of the
length of the train, two tables were set, one on either side of the
aisle. The time-keepers had agreed to relieve each other at each stop
at the end of a division, one being always on duty, and the other
close at hand to verify any record on which a question might arise.
The time-keeper on duty sat at one of the tables, watch in hand.
Opposite to him was a representative of the railway company, with no
power to originate a record, but to check each stop in case an
error should occur. Across the aisle sat the official recorder, a
representative of the Wagner Palace Car Company, and opposite to him a
representative of the daily press.
For two minutes before the time for starting, silence settled down
upon the car. The shades were pulled down over every window. Inside,
the car was brilliantly lighted with Pintsch gas; and the eyes of
every man were on the face of the watch which each held in his
hand, and his finger was ready to press the stop which splits the
second-hand. The two minutes passed slowly, and the silence was almost
painful as the watches showed that the moment was close at hand.
Suddenly the smallest perceptible jerk told that the wheels had
moved, and on the instant the split-hand of every watch in the car had
recorded the fact. "Three--twenty-nine--twenty-seven!" announced the
time-keeper.
"Three--twenty-nine--twenty-seven!" echoed the representative of the
railway company.
"Three--twenty-nine--twenty-seven!" called the recorder as he entered
the figures on the sheet before him.
"Three--twenty-nine--twenty-seven!" said the member of the press.
The start had been made thirty-three seconds ahead of time, and each
member of the party settled himself down to the work ahead.
Over each division of the road the superintendent of that division
rode as "caller-off" of the stations as they were passed. It was
necessary, during the first hours of darkness especially, that some
one should do this who was familiar with every foot of the track--some
one who would not have to rely on eyesight alone, but to whose
accustomed senses every sway of the car as a curve was passed, and
every sound of the wheels on bridge or culvert, would be familiar.
The first station, Whiting, is only three and one-half miles from
the starting-point. The night outside was intensely black, and it
was doubtful whether even the practised eye and ear of Superintendent
Newell would be able to catch the little station as it went by. With
one eye on our watches, therefore, we all had also one anxious eye on
him where he sat with his head hidden under the shade that was drawn
behind him, a blanket held over the crevices to shut out every ray
of light, and his face pressed close against the glass. The minutes
passed slowly--one, two, three, four, five! Whiting must be very near,
and--but just as we began to fear that he had missed the station, the
word came:
"Ready for Whiting!" and the response,
"Ready for Whiting!"
A few short seconds of silence, and then:
"Now!"
Instantly the muscles of the waiting fingers throbbed on the
split-stop; but no quicker than the roar told that the car was already
passing the station.
"Three--thirty-four--forty-five!" called the time-keeper.
"Three--thirty-four--forty-five!"
"Three--thirty-four--forty-five!"
"Three--thirty-four--forty-five!"