Monday, November 4, 2019

Rail Moment: Dread 107 and the Black Swan

The year was 1883 and the Denver and Rio Grande narrow gauge recently acquired a number of new 4-4-0 locomotives. These were designated as the 8-18c class from the Baldwin Locomotive works. However unlike previous versions of this class of locomotive, these had the addition of a straight boiler with an rather long firebox for burning anthracite. One of these locomotives was allocated the number of 107, and thus a railroading legend began.
D&RG 108, sister to the "Dread" 107



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The Tale of Dread 107



It was said that if ever there was a locomotive that was possessed by supernatural forces, the 107 was it. It all started not long after she was put in regular service, in the spring of 1883, when the Black Eagle Canyon Bridge was washed out from hard-flowing waters. 107 took the plunge into the river below, killing her engineer and fireman. She lay in the canyon until the late summer when the water level was low. Only then she was able to be retrieved.



A rare photo of the #107 in service. 
Later, 107 was in her second incident just out of Gunnison, Colorado on a place known as Blind Man's Curve. Her engineer and fireman were killed after she slammed into a boulder that had fallen onto the right of way, rolling onto her side. After the first two wrecks, the 107 was moved to the Salt Lake City to Ogden route. For the while, her trips were were rather uneventful. However, it seemed that trouble wasn't far behind. 107 found herself involved in a minor derailment, in which a hobo riding the rear of her tender fell off and under the cars as she left the rails.



By this time, rumors began to spread among the employees, suspecting there was something wrong with her. As it went on, the employees and locals began to give her the nickname "Dread 107", saying she was haunted by ghosts and demons that would reside in her cab. Engineer Ole Gleason was assigned her, and after six months at the throttle, he and four others ware killed in a head on collision.



Afterward, an unknown D&RGW employee carved 107's records into the woodwork of her cab. this included the number of wrecks, and the names of those who had died on board her. Stories were told of ghosts who hid in the roundhouse shadows whenever she was present.
"Death Rode In Her Cab" (Illustration from Anthony W Reevy)



In the fall of 1889, she was crewed by the Flynn brothers; Tom Flynn as the engineer and his brother, the fireman. She was running out of Ogden Yard, when on a trip Tom noticed the markings engraved inside her cab. The story goes that insanity struck the engineer, who threw his brother off of the speeding train, letting the 107 run away. The locomotive overturned after an insane run down the line, pinning the engineer underneath her. Tom flailed around, seemingly possessed, and later bled out and died. Tom's brother also died of his injuries.



The railroad took her to their shops in Alamosa where she'd undergo a major overhaul, her death record was erased, and the locomotive was renumbered 100. It was believed that changing the identity of an engine would break the curse. This seemed to work, as the locomotive ran uneventfully for a number of years. That is, until she ran into a ditch due to a washout. Not long after, she led a gravel train, going downgrade from Mear's Junction to Alamosa. An engineer by the name of Frank Murphy was at the throttle. The gravel train became a runaway and met a light mixed train in a head on collision. Killing five more people in the process. After being taken back to Alamosa for repairs, her original number was restored!



107 ran in regular service until 1908 when she was scrapped, after a 25 year career of death and destruction. Even scrapping the engine couldn't end her terror. Residents in the Grand Junction area have claimed to have seen her ghost running down the ex-D&RGW line outside the town. She is often seen along the Gunnison River between Grand Junction and Montrose, Colorado. Some say to have heard her whistle, but never see the engine.



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Fun story, isn't it? However, how true is this tale of locomotive supernatural tomfoolery?



The 107 was indeed built in 1883, as a part of order of D&RG Class 42.5 locomotives. These locomotives were essentially class 42s on the D&RG (Baldwin class 8-18c) from the Baldwin locomotive works; however they were built with the addition of a straight boiler with an unusually long firebox for burning anthracite coal. The firebox wasn't especially deep, but in order to provide sufficient grate area it was rather shallow and long. More then likely this construction resulted in an excessive amount of weight on the rear driving axle, and led to a higher center of mass. Thus the locomotives gained a reputation for being potentially top heavy.



How many incidents the 107 was involved in as a result of her mechanical ungainliness is up for debate. However, what can be said for sure, is that there was never an insane engineer. No narrow gauge 4-4-0s ever operated on the Rio Grande's Utah lines, nor was there a list of names carved in the cab walls. For starters, no roundhouse foreman would put up with such vandalism of a cab in his charge. Likewise, there simply are no records of a Tom Flynn. Whatever small derailments the 107 may have had in her life can be simply chalked up to her propensity to waddle.



After a rather unremarkable career, the 107 actually was broken up for scrap in 1908.



The tales of a ghost locomotive are fun, and as Ward Kimball once said; “Never let the facts get in the way of a good story!” However...as in all good tales, there is a grain of truth.



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The Black Swan Locomotive.
177, the "Black Swan"



In 1884, Baldwin built a 4-6-0 for the D&RG. This locomotive was a part of the 47N class, which would go on to be reclassified as the T-12s. With the construction number of 7306, this locomotive was given the road number of 177. The Class 47s were the largest and fastest narrow gauge ten-wheelers to operate on D&RG irons. They were acquired to pull passenger trains, and their 46 inch drivers made them suitable for relatively fast passenger service.



At first glace, the 177 seemed just another number on a roster. However, she quickly started to gain a reputation as a bad luck locomotive. If only her issues were as simple as ghosts and phantoms. 

The 177 waits while a rock slide is cleared. Seems she had a cloud over her head.
 



An issue of the Salida Mail, dated April 15, 1887 had this to say: Many interesting things have happened since my last, two weeks ago, which are too state to speak of. Engineer Philliber is off on account of illness. Pickett is out of luck, he seems to be blessed with a multitude of slight accidents. That the 177 is an unlucky locomomotive.



Looking past the strange spelling of “locomotive” ... what do they mean by unlucky? Railroad men, especially during the age of steam, could be very superstitious and often were very religious. There was often times a belief that select locomotives could become unlucky.
That this superstition had a basis in fact is indisputable. Some locomotives end up over the course of their operating careers involved in incidents and mishaps more then other locomotives of the same road, class, or builder. This reason usually is a result of mechanical reasons, or even just a simple freak of circumstances and statistics. It would seem that the 177 would be one of these locomotives.



One year before the Salida mail published this issue the 177 found herself involved in a collision. Not with a boulder or falling through a trestle: on December 17, 1886 she collided with a cow and rolled onto her side. Killing both her engineer and fireman. The fireman was doubly unfortunate enough to have been ill for some time. This trip being the first since his recovery and return to service. Bad luck all around.




The 177 was repaired at the Burnham shops on Christmas Eve and put back into operation. 

She was sent to the Salida shops where we catch up to her thanks to the Salida Mail, dated January 28, 1887.  On April 15, 1887 the 177 ran into a small rock-slide. The locomotive rolled onto her side and down 12 feet into the Creek, injuring her crew. Once again, this required her to be overhauled. Interestingly, the 107 story also involves a rock-slide.




Also there seems to be an altercation between the Burnham and Salida shops. More bad luck on behalf of the 177? Not likely. More a case of good old workplace rivalry, but still interesting to note. The locomotive found herself on a regular run between Gunnison and Grand Junction Colorado.




In November of 1887, the 177 would one again find herself dancing with lady luck. On Nov 3rd she was the victim of a train robbery. The Idaho Springs News, dated November 11, 1887 has this to say: The eastbound Denver & Rio Grande passenger train was held up by masked robbers at 8:45 this morning at a point five miles east of Grand Junction. As the train ran under the bluff, Engineer Maloy discovered obstructions ahead and whistled for brakes. The robbers burst their way into both the mail and express cars. Unable to break into the safe in the express car, the robbers stumbled over themselves in regards to blowing it. They debated going through the passenger cars and asking for donations.




Evidently they began to get uneasy, and started to fear an uprising by the passengers. Brakeman William Welch and a passenger, started toward the front. Not out of any bravery, but more to find out what in god's name had them sitting for so long. They got two bullets over their heads for their troubles, and were sent scrambling back to the passenger cars were the air was decidedly more healthy. Assembling together the bandits decided to cut their losses, and along with the engineer they themselves kindly removed the obstruction, bade good night and struck out into the darkness.

By now it seems the locomotive definitely has a reputation as she is noted as a bad luck locomotive. It seemed that she was constantly returning to the shops in Salida.


The Salida Mail comments on her constantly with sick and ill engineers, finally conning a nickname for her based off her paint colors calling her a “Black Swan:” A black swan being a term that for an unpredictable event that is beyond what is normally expected of a situation and could potentially have severe consequences.









Not content with merely causing bad cases of the flu, in 1888 lady luck once again grabbed 177 by the throttle. The Solid Muldoon Weekly, dated March 16, reported on a run in with train wreckers! No doubt following up on the train robbers the previous year. A misaligned switch threw the helper locomotive which was leading the train, then the 177 followed by the mail car off the main and into a siding where they tried to take a short cut back to the main through the roadbed. The end result was a pile up that killed a fireman and dislocated the shoulder of an engineer. After the accident an examination showed that the switch rail been pried by some Snidely Whiplash character, and a light arranged to signal a clear track. It is unknown as to if the guilty parties were ever caught...however the implications of “stretched hemp” gives an idea of what awaited them should they be discovered.


A number of years seems to have gone by without enough of an indecent to require note. That is, until our favorite railroad gossip rag, the Salida Mail records in October of 1890 that the 177 was once again held up! No doubt the robbers from more then 15 years ago were back for an encore. The record doesn't say the details of the robbery, nor if the men were caught. However, Mr. McKelvey and his hounds were hot on the trail! 



 



Still, life couldn't be all bad luck for the 177. They sure felt she was good enough for the president of the road to have on the head of his train. Once again, we turn to the daily show with the Salida Mail, dated November 6, 1891, which reports that she could be found pulling the dignitary without incident. Likewise, she once again found herself on the head of the Vanderbilt special in the same year. 




The next notation of the 177 was her finally being kicked out of Salida and winding up on the Chama-Alamosa line sometime after 1900. The Black Swan vanishes from record until 1923 when she was reclassified as a T-12. She was removed from service and scrapped in March 1926. Did the run of luck finally kill her off? More then likely she was scrapped as the company was trying to clear out old property following a reorganization in 1924.



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The final recorded score is four deaths, an untold number of illnesses, two robberies, a tangle with train wreckers, and the Vanderbilt family. The locomotive seemed to have a reputation of bad luck that speaks to many other smaller incidents and mishaps. Perhaps small and meaningless had they not occurred to the 177. Is it possible that the 177 was really cursed? A clue could be found with this almost meaningless comment from the Salida Mail. A larger then usual ash pan.



Much like the 107, perhaps this is the real key to the many mishaps that plagued the 177. This one small change perhaps led to a higher axle loading on the rear driver. Giving the locomotive an unusual gate that may have led to some of her minor derailments. The rest are a freak of statistics, that when coupled with an ungainly locomotive led to an unjust reputation. The truth may never really be known.




What is known is that the 177's story would have vanished from history had it not been for a small notation in “Railroad Stories” magazine. In the 1930s, the mag ran a small blurb about a cursed D&RG locomotive. Tales of train robberies, wrecks, and wreckers. It would seem as if the 177 found herself reaching out beyond her final fate to tale her story. Except the locomotive recorded was said to be not the 177....but the smaller 4-4-0, 107. The blurb did not account the locomotive's follies as anything supernatural. Just unlucky.



The tale spread. Getting embellished with each retelling. The book A “Treasury Of Railroad Foklore” by Botkin and Harlow contains a retelling of the hoodooed locomotive. Freeman Hubbard's “Superstitions” also recounts tales of cursed engines, bringing an element of the otherworldly into the story....and finally the tale of 107 is brought forth as a ghost story complete with eerie illustrations in Anthony W Reevy's “Ghost Trains.”


107 is seems, got a bad rap. She was never cursed, never haunted, and otherwise lived an unremarkable life. Yet, hidden behind her tale of supernatural shenanigans lays a very real curiosity in a fellow slim gauge locomotive: The Black Swan locomotive, number 177.


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Sources:





Salida Mail, Volume VII, Number 45, April 15, 1887

Idaho Springs News, Volume V, Number 32, November 11, 1887

Salida Mail, Volume 11, Number 91, April 21, 1891

Salida Mail, Volume 12, Number 28, September 11, 1891

Salida Mail, Volume 12, Number 44, November 6, 1891

Salida Mail, Volume 14, Number 99, May 15, 1894

Alamosa Courier, Volume XXIII, Number 7, February 11, 1911


A Big thank you to Josh B for thier help in the research and commentary on this article. His work was invaluable to brining this story to light! 


 

2 comments:

  1. I noticed that the first image is photoshopped to depict the number 107. I know this because that's an image I photoshopped. I suggest you use a more appropriate image of 108

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    Replies
    1. Honestly, had you not said anything I would not have noticed. The photo is correctly captioned to represent the 108, and was retrieved via Wikimedia, so it's free to use. I don't see a reason to remove it.

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