Prepared by Carl L. Kinney, Great Grandson of Peter Gain
The B & O Railroad was an important part of America’s success, a fact that cannot be disputed. The tracks that ran from Clarksburg to Parkersburg (Now known as the North Bend Rail Trail) was known as the Parkersburg Branch and was utilized by first the B & O Railroad and later the C & O Railroad, from 1857 until it was dismantled in 1989. It was essential to the progress of this area and was a sad day when the tracks were removed, marking the end of an era.
Mr. Kinney, who wrote the article I am submitting this week, grew up along the tracks and decided to gather a few of the spikes left behind as souvenirs. He gathered the spikes, then cleaned them; applied metal primer; and painted each one. He printed some brief historical information of each spike.
He said that working of these mementos brought back many memories of his life along the railroad in the West Union area. He decided to write the following narrative of some of the things he remembered:
“My memories of the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad date back to the latter of the 1930’s. Grandfather Lloyd and Grandmother Mary Jane Kinney moved from Block House Hill to McClain’s Heights–both in West Union–in the summer of 1936. Gladys, Opal, George, and I were all living with them at the time. I can remember, from McClain’s Heights, watching freight trains pass through. People would be sitting on top of or in the open doorways of boxcars, or on the empty flat cars. This was still, for us, “Depression Days”, and I assume these people were “bumming” a free train ride across the country, searching for jobs and homes.
I can remember, as a boy, walking barefoot along the railroad right-of-way in the summertime when school was out. Walking along the tracks from the west end crossing, past the Depot, through the east and crossing, I would go on to the dam to go fishing, or to swim in Middle Island Creek below the trestle. The rails would be too hot for my bare feet, so I would walk on the ties—skipping over those that had sun-heated creosote seeping out of them. The ties were nearly too close together to step on everyone, and almost too far apart for my short legs to step on every other one. Railroad walkers developed a peculiar gait.
Many times, I went to the house at the west end of the railroad trestle near the old Filtration Plant, to visit with Jim, Ray, and Paul Franklin Cupp, the sons of Paul and Ruth Cupp. It was on this trestle that I had two nerve-rattling experiences. On two consecutive evenings, I carried garbage out on the trestle to dump into Middle Island Creek for Mrs. Cupp. (I was staying for supper as I often did). Unfortunately, each evening, as I got to the center of the trestle, here came a train around the bend. I had to step over to a small platform, about 3-ft. x 3-ft. in size, made to hold a 55-gallon drum of water for fire protection. I can still feel that little rickety platform shaking as that heavy train crossing the trestle shook and rattled it. I was a bit shaky myself, both during and after the experience. Twice in a row—not too wise.
During World War II, I can remember military guards being posted at the trestle on one occasion. I don’t know the reason—whether because of important passengers, important shipments, or suspected sabotage.
I used to go to the Depot sometimes, to meet Uncle Ralph and Aunt Iva Kinney, coming down from Grafton to visit us. Uncle Ralph was a water plant operator for the B & O, so he had a free pass to ride the railroad. Other times, I would go to the Depot just to see the trains stop, unload or pick up mail, freight, and passengers. Wirt Davis would push out the hand carts to load or unload mail and small freight items. Mr. Huffman was the man I remember as Station Agent. I can recall the old coal-fired locomotives pulling these trains—emitting steam and cindery smoke. Usually, I ended up with a cinder or two in my eye. While the train was stopped to load/unload passengers, mail, freight, etc., a crewman would climb down out of the locomotive cab, carrying an oil can and a ball-pein hammer. He would lubricate some working parts and peck on the huge wheels with the hammer. Local wisdom determined that he was checking to find out if the wheels were cracked. The old steam locomotives—as black, oily, and dirty as they were, appeared to be powerfully strong—even when just sitting there huffing and puffing and venting steam.
As I mentioned earlier, Uncle Ralph Kinney operated a water pump station for the B & O. I remember once he had “Bumped” (temporarily replaced) the operator of the water pump station east of Rock Run, for a short period of time. These water pump stations were to furnish water for the boilers in the steam locomotives. A station consisted of a water pump with the necessary motor and piping used to fill a wooden tank sitting atop a wooden or metal tower. The water would be gravity-fed into the engine’s reservoir for the boiler, whenever a train stopped.
When a train would stop to ‘take-on water’, one of the crew would throw down lighted ‘fuzees’ (flares) and fasten torpedoes (small powder charges) to the rails with long, thin, narrow lead strips. These were safety precautions to alert any later trains, running past the fuzees and over the detonation torpedoes. This would inform them that there might be a slow or stopped train down the line.
Boys liked to collect the lead from exploded torpedoes. One half would fall on the inside of the rail—the other half on the outside. We got to be pretty good at spotting the curled up gray strips of lead against the tan and gray ballast rocks on the roadbed. When we found one piece, we knew to look somewhere close on the other side of that rail for the other piece. We used the lead for fishing sinkers, molding toy soldiers and any other purpose we could come up with. The track from West Union to the Rock Run Water Pump Station was a favorite place to search for lead.
The #4572 is one of 100 Q-3 class engines built by Baldwin in 1918. These were called “light” Mikados, but during WWII they were desi nated the “McArthur” type. The RR workers called them “Mikes.”
Anyone who ever heard one of the steam locomotives passing through in the night will never forget it. The engineer would alert a road crossing ahead of his presence by blowing the steam whistle—a deep, long note, usually sounded at least twice. Of course, they also used this procedure in the daytime, but at night—when everything was quiet outside–you noticed it more. The steam whistle, along with the conductor or flagman’s wave (in the daytime) or his signal lantern (at night) was used for communicating between the engine crew and other crew members when starting and stopping the trains.
I can remember lying in bed at night and hearing the steam-driven trains passing through. You could hear them from anyplace you lived in town–and every few years we moved to a different section of town. About 10:00 P.M. each night, a west-bound freight used to stop and leave off or ‘pick up’ cars on the siding. Then, as it started up the Doe Run Grade, you would hear the engine slowly speed up until it lost traction. Then, the drive wheels would rapidly spin in place on the tracks until the engineer lessened steam pressure to the drive pistons. Once the spinning stopped, the engine would again begin to accelerate. The procedure might be repeated again and again until the train was up to speed. This may sound like a noisy, sleep-robbing event, but it seemed natural, calm, and peaceful to those hearing it then.”
(Continued next week)
God Bless.
Patricia Harris