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The scenes among the wounded
were as suggestive almost as the wreck in the valley. The two
hotels nearest the station contained a majority of these, as
they were scattered about on temporary beds on the floors of
the dining-rooms, parlors and offices. In one place, a man
with a broken leg would be under the hands of a surgeon, who
rapidly and skillfully went at his work. In another, a man
covered with bruises and spotted over with pieces of plaster,
would look as though he had been snowed upon, except when the
dark lines of blood across his face or limb told a different
story. In some other corner, a poor woman moaned from the pain
which she could not conceal, while over all there brooded that
hushed feeling of awe which always accompanies calamities of
this character.
Towards morning, the cold
increased and the wind blew a fearful gale which, with the
snow, that had drifted waist-deep at points along the line
made all work extremely difficult.
At 6 o'clock, the beds in the
sleeping-car of the special train were made up and such of the
wounded as could be moved were transferred there.
Harper's Weekly Magazine - January 20,
1877
Ashtabula, Ohio Train Disaster in
December, 1876. Illustration from Harpers Weekly, January,
1877.
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Our illustration shows the
scene of the terrible railroad accident at Ashtabula Creek on
the night of December 29, 1876. The train, consisting of
eleven cars drawn by two engines, reached the bridge over
Ashtabula Creek about eight o'clock, and was moving at a low
rate of speed. The engines had crossed in safety, when the
bridge, without warning, gave way, and the whole train, with
the exception of the leading engine, the couplings of which
broke, was precipitated into the ravine, a distance of
seventy-five feet. The banks are steep, and the furious
snow-storm that had been raging for several hours rendered it
difficult for those who hastened to the scene of the disaster
to reach the wreck. To add to the horror of the situation, the
cars took fire from the stoves, and many passengers who were
not killed outright by the fall were burned to death.
Imprisoned by heavy fragments of the broken cars, or unable to
move on account of injuries, men, women, and children met
death in this agonizing form. Some, it is supposed, were
drowned.
Help arrived early from
Ashtabula village, but nothing could then be done to save
life, except to remove the wounded, who had already been taken
from the cars, to places where they could have surgical
attention. The heat from the burning wreck was intense, and in
the confusion of the moment the means which might have been
used to extinguish the flames were not thought of until too
late. At the water-works, within 150 yards of the burning
cars, lay 500 feet of hose, the coupling of which exactly
fitted a plug within pistol-shot of the fire, the plug being
connected with a powerful pumping apparatus, and there being
sixty pounds of steam in the pump boiler. The hose could have
been pouring a stream on the fire within five minutes but for
somebody's fault or stupidity.
A survivor of the disaster, Mr.
Burchell, of Chicago, describes the scene in vivid colors:
"The first thing I heard was a cracking in the front part of
the car, and then the same cracking in the rear. Then came
another cracking in the front louder than the first, and then
came a sickening oscillation and a sudden sinking, and I was
thrown stunned from my seat. I heard the cracking and
splintering and smashing around me The iron-work bent and
twisted like snakes, and every thing took horrid shapes. I
heard a lady scream in anguish, I Oh! help me!' Then I heard
the cry of fire. Some one broke a window, and I pushed the
lady out who had screamed. I think her name was Miss Bingham.
The train lay in the valley in the water, our car a little on
its side, both ends broken in. The rest of the train lay in
every direction, some on end, some on the side, crushed and
broken. The snow in the valley was nearly to my waist, and I
could only move with difficulty. The wreck was then on fire.
The wind was blowing from the east, and whirling blinding
masses of snow over the terrible ruin. The crackling of the
flames, the whistling wind, the screaming of the hurt, made a
pandemonium of that little valley, and the water of the
freezing creek was red with blood or black with the flying
cinders.
The number of persons killed
can not be accurately stated, as it is not known exactly how
many there were on the train, and it is supposed that some
bodies were entirely consumed in the flames. The official list
of the killed and those who have died of their injuries, gives
the number as fifty-five, but it is supposed to be somewhat
higher.
On this page we give a diagram
showing the construction of the bridge, which was of iron. It
was built about eleven years ago, and was supposed to be a
structure of great strength. It had been, tested with the
weight of six locomotives; heavy trains had crossed on both
its tracks at the same time; it was believed to be well
constructed of the best materials. Yet suddenly it fell under
a weight far below its tested strength. No wonder that the
traveling public anxiously inquire, "What was the cause?" Was
it improperly constructed? Was the iron of inferior quality?
After eleven years of service, had it suddenly lost its
strength? Or had a gradual weakness grown upon it
unperceived? Might that weakness have been discovered by
frequent and proper examination? Or was the breakage the
sudden effect of intense cold? If so, why had it not happened
before in yet more severe weather? Is there no method
of making iron bridges of assured safety? And who is
responsible (so far as human responsibility goes) for such an
accident—the engineer who designed the bridge, or the
contractor, or the builders, or the railroad corporation? Was
the bridge, when made, the best of its kind, or the
cheapest of its kind? Was the contract for building "let
to the lowest bidder," or given to the most honest, thorough
workmen? These and a hundred similar queries arise in every
thoughtful mind, and an anxious community desire information
and assurance of safety. The majority of people can not, of
course, understand the detailed construction of bridges, but
they do desire confidence in engineers, builders, contractors,
manufacturers, who have to do with the making of them, and in
the railroad companies, into whose hands they are constantly
putting their own lives and the lives of those dearest to
them.
Illustration from Harpers
Weekly, January, 1877.
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