NOVEL APPLIANCES.
The great peculiarity of the Revere accident, and that which gave a permanent interest to it, lay in the revelation it afforded of the degree in which a system had outgrown its appliances. At every point a deficiency was apparent. The railroads of New England had long been living on their early reputation, and now, when a sudden test was applied, it was found that they were years behind the time. In August, 1871, the Eastern railroad was run as if it were a line of stage-coaches in the days before the telegraph. Not in one point alone, but in everything, it broke down under the test. The disaster was due not to any single cause but to a combination of causes implicating not only the machinery and appliances in use by the company, but its discipline and efficiency from the highest official down to the meanest subordinate. In the first place the capacity of the road was taxed to the utmost; it was vital, almost, that every wheel should be kept in motion. Yet, under that very exigency, the wheels stopped almost as a matter of necessity. How could it be otherwise?—Here was a crowded line, more than half of which was equipped with but a single track, in operating which no reliance was placed upon the telegraph. With trains running out of their schedule time and out of their schedule place, engineers and conductors were left to grope their way along as best they could in the light of rules, the essence of which was that when in doubt they were to stand stock still. Then, in the absence of the telegraph, a block occurred almost at the mouth of the terminal station; and there the trains stood for hours in stupid obedience to a stupid rule, because the one man who, with a simple regard to the dictates of common sense, was habitually accustomed to violate it happened to be sick. Trains commonly left a station out of time and out of place; and the engineer of an express train was sent out to run a gauntlet the whole length of the road with a simple verbal injunction to look out for some one before him. Then, at last, when this express train through all this chaos got to chasing an accommodation train, much as a hound might course a hare, there was not a pretence of a signal to indicate the time which had elapsed between the passage of the two, and employés, lanterns in hand, gaped on in bewilderment at the awful race, concluding that they could not at any rate do anything to help matters, but on the whole they were inclined to think that those most immediately concerned must know what they were about. Finally, even when the disaster was imminent, when deficiency in organization and discipline had done its worst, its consequences might yet have been averted through the use of better appliances; had the one train been equipped with the Westinghouse brake, already largely in use in other sections of the country, it might and would have been stopped; or had the other train been provided with reflecting tail-lights in place of the dim hand-lanterns which glimmered on its rear platform, it could hardly have failed to make its proximity known. Any one of a dozen things, every one of which should have been but was not, ought to have averted the disaster. Obviously its immediate cause was not far to seek. It lay in the carelessness of a conductor who failed to consult his watch, and never knew until the crash came that his train was leisurely moving along on the time of another. Nevertheless, what can be said in extenuation of a system under which, at this late day, a railroad is operated on the principle that each employé under all circumstances can and will take care of himself and of those whose lives and limbs are entrusted to his care?
There is, however, another and far more attractive side to the picture. The lives sacrificed at Revere were not lost in vain. Seven complete railroad years passed by between that and the Wollaston Heights accident of 1878. During that time not less than two hundred and thirty millions of persons were carried by rail within the limits of Massachusetts. Of this vast number while only 50, or about one in each four and a half millions, sustained any injury from causes beyond their own power to control, the killed were just two. This certainly was a record with which no community could well find fault; and it was due more than anything else to the great disaster of August 26, 1871. More than once, and on more than one road, accidents occurred which, but for the improved appliances introduced in consequence of the experience at Revere, could hardly have failed of fatal results. Not that these appliances were in all cases very cheerfully or very eagerly accepted. Neither the Miller platform nor the Westinghouse brake won its way into general use unchallenged. Indeed, the earnestness and even the indignation with which presidents and superintendents then protested that their car construction was better and stronger than Miller's; that their antiquated handbrakes were the most improved brakes,—better, much better, than the Westinghouse; that their crude old semaphores and targets afforded a protection to trains which no block-system would ever equal,—all this certainly was comical enough, even in the very shadow of the great tragedy. Men of a certain type always have protested and will always continue to protest that they have nothing to learn; yet, under the heavy burden of responsibility, learn they still do. They dare not but learn. On this point the figures of the Massachusetts annual returns between the year 1871 and the year 1878 speak volumes. At the time of the Revere disaster, with one single honorable exception,—that of the Boston & Providence road,—both the atmospheric train-brake and the Miller platform, the two greatest modern improvements in American car construction, were practically unrecognized on the railroads of Massachusetts. Even a year later, but 93 locomotives and 415 cars had been equipped even with the train-brake. In September, 1873, the number had, however, risen to 194 locomotives and 709 cars; and another twelve months carried these numbers up to 313 locomotives and 997 cars. Finally in 1877 the state commissioners in their report for that year spoke of the train-brake as having been then generally adopted, and at the same time called attention to the very noticeable fact "that the only railroad accident resulting in the death of a passenger from causes beyond his control within the state during a period of two years and eight months, was caused by the failure of a company to adopt this improvement on all its passenger rolling-stock." The adoption of Miller's method of car construction had meanwhile been hardly less rapid. Almost unknown at the time of the Revere catastrophe in September, 1871, in October, 1873, when returns on the subject were first called for by the state commissioners, eleven companies had already adopted it on 778 cars out of a total number of 1548 reported. In 1878 it had been adopted by twenty-two companies, and applied to 1685 cars out of a total of 1792. In other words it had been brought into general use.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE AUTOMATIC ELECTRIC BLOCK SYSTEM.
A realizing sense of the necessity of ultimately adopting some system of protection against the danger of rear-end collisions was, above all else, brought directly home to American railroad managers through the Revere disaster. In discussing and comparing the appliances used in the practical operation of railroads in different countries, there is one element, however, which can never be left out of the account. The intelligence, quickness of perception and capacity for taking care of themselves—that combination of qualities which, taken together, constitute individuality and adaptability to circumstance—vary greatly among the railroad employés of different countries. The American locomotive engineer, as he is called, is especially gifted in this way. He can be relied on to take care of himself and his train under circumstances which in other countries would be thought to insure disaster. Volumes on this point were included in the fact that though at the time of the Revere disaster many of the American lines, especially in Massachusetts, were crowded with the trains of a mixed traffic, the necessity of making any provision against rear-end collisions, further than by directing those in immediate charge of the trains to keep a sharp look out and to obey their printed orders, seemed hardly to have occurred to any one. The English block system was now and then referred to in a vague, general way; but it was very questionable whether one in ten of those referring to it knew anything about it or had ever seen it in operation, much less investigated it. A characteristic illustration of this was afforded in the course of those official investigations which followed the Revere disaster, and have already more than once been alluded to. Prior to that disaster the railroads of Massachusetts had, as a rule, enjoyed a rather exceptional freedom from accidents, and there was every reason to suppose that their regulations were as exact and their system as good as those in use in other parts of the country. Yet it then appeared that in the rules of very few of the Massachusetts roads had any provision, even of the simplest character, been made as to the effect of telegraphic orders, or the course to be pursued by employés in charge of trains on their receipt. The appliances for securing intervals between following trains were marked by a quaint simplicity. They were, indeed, "singularly primitive," as the railroad commissioners on a subsequent occasion described them, when it appeared that on one of the principal roads of the state the interval between two closely following trains was signalled to the engineer of the second train by a station-master's holding up to him as he passed a number of fingers corresponding to the number of minutes since the first train had gone by. For the rest the examination revealed, as the nearest approach to a block system, a queer collection of dials, sand-glasses, green flags, colored lanterns and hand-targets. The climax in the course of that investigation was, however, reached when some reference, involving a description of it, was made to the English block. This was met by a protest on the part of one veteran superintendent, who announced that it might work well under certain circumstances, but for himself he could not be responsible for the operation of a road running the number of trains he had charge of in reliance on any such system. The subject, in fact, was one of which he knew absolutely nothing;—not even that, through the block system and through it alone, fourteen trains were habitually and safely moved under circumstances where he moved one. This occurred in 1871, and though eight years have since elapsed information in regard to the block system is not yet very widely disseminated inside of railroad circles, much less outside of them. It is none the less a necessity of the future. It has got to be understood, and, in some form, it has got to be adopted; for even in America there are limits to the reliance which, when the lives and limbs of many are at stake, can be placed on the "sharp look out" of any class of men, no matter how intelligent they may be.
The block system is of English origin, and it scarcely needs to be said that it was adopted by the railroad corporations of that country only when they were driven to it by the exigencies of their traffic. But for that system, indeed, the most costly portion of the tracks of the English roads must of necessity have been duplicated years ago, as their traffic had fairly outgrown those appliances of safety which have even to this time been found sufficient in America. There were points, for instance, where two hundred and seventy regular trains of one line alone passed daily. On the London & North-Western there are more than sixty through down trains, taking no account of local trains, each day passing over the same line of tracks, among which are express trains which stop nowhere, way trains which stop everywhere, express-freight, way-freight, mineral trains and parcel trains. On the Midland road there are nearly twice as many similar trains on each track. On the Metropolitan railway the average interval is three and one-third minutes between trains. In one case points were mentioned where 270 regular trains of one line alone passed a given junction during each twenty-four hours,—where 470 trains passed a single station, the regular interval between them being but five-eighths of a mile,—where 132 trains entered and left a single station during three hours of each evening every day, being one train in eighty-two seconds. In 1870 there daily reached or left the six stations of the Boston roads some 385 trains; while no less than 650 trains a day were in the same year received and despatched from a single one of the London stations. On one single exceptional occasion 1,111 trains, carrying 145,000 persons, were reported as entering and leaving this station in the space of eighteen hours, being rather more than a train a minute. Indeed it may well be questioned whether the world anywhere else furnishes an illustration so apt and dramatic of the great mechanical achievements of recent times as that to be seen during the busy hours of any week-day from the signal and interlocking galleries which span the tracks as they enter the Charing Cross or Cannon street stations in London. Below and in front of the galleries the trains glide to and fro, coming suddenly into sight from beyond the bridges and as suddenly disappearing,—winding swiftly in and out, and at times four of them running side by side on as many tracks but in both directions,—the whole making up a swiftly shifting maze of complex movement under the influence of which a head unaccustomed to the sight grows actually giddy. Yet it is all done so quietly and smoothly, with such an absence of haste and nervousness on the part of the stolid operators in charge, that it is not easy to decide which most to wonder at, the almost inconceivable magnitude and despatch of the train-movement or the perfection of the appliances which make it possible. No man concerned in the larger management of railroads, who has not passed a morning in those London galleries, knows what it is to handle a great city's traffic.
Perfect as it is in its way, however, it may well be questioned whether the block system as developed in England is likely to be generally adopted on American railroads. Upon one or two of them, and notably on the New Jersey Central and a division of the Pennsylvania, it has already been in use for a number of years. From an American point of view, however, it is open to a number of objections. That in itself it is very perfect and has been successfully elaborated so as to provide for almost every possible contingency is proved by the results daily accomplished by means of it.[13] The English lines are made to do an incredible amount of work with comparative few accidents. The block system is, however, none the less a very clumsy and complicated one, necessitating the constant employment of a large number of skilled operators. Here is the great defect in it from the American point of view. In this country labor is scarce and capital costly. The effort is always towards the perfecting of labor-saving machines. Hitherto the pressure of traffic on the lines has not been greater than could be fairly controlled by simpler appliances, and the expense of the English system is so heavy that its adoption, except partially, would not have been warranted. As Barry says in his treatise on the subject, "one can 'buy gold too dear'; for if every possible known precaution is to be taken, regardless of cost, it may not pay to work a railway at all."