Other railroads were springing up, as the Erie proved the concept. The Pennsylvania Railroad ran from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia, almost as long itself as its competitor (though strictly speaking they weren’t, as the Pennsylvania Railroad was built to shuttle between the two cities, and no more) at 137 miles. Unlike the Erie though, the Pennsylvania was never in danger of going bust, returned fine financial dividends to its investors, and generally avoided many of the mistakes made by its predecessor. Much of that was due to one man; where the Erie had Charles Minot, the Pennsylvania had John Edgar Thomson.
John Edgar Thomson (1808 - 1874)
A civil engineer like his father, who had built the first experimental railroad in America, John travelled to Britain, unlike many of his contemporaries, studying the railway systems there, and brought back invaluable knowledge and experience he would put into practice when building his own railroad. He worked for the Philadelphia & Columbia Railroad and later for the Camden & Amboy, and was only twenty-four when he made his trip across the Atlantic. Two years later he was taken on as chief engineer for the Georgia Railroad, and his expertise soon made him a household name and much sought-after. By 1845 he had laid down the longest railroad of the time, at 174 miles, longer even than the Erie, and when he moved to take charge of the newly-chartered Pennsylvania Railroad he shone in the task, indispensable to the company, even creating the “horseshoe curve”, a system of three curved tracks which greatly increased efficiency and safety. He was the first to switch from wood to coal as fuel for the locomotives, a move copied by every other railroad and which increased the demand for coal in the USA. You could say in some ways he virtually put Pennsylvania on the map, or at least returned it to what the state must have seen as its rightful place, after it had begun to lose ground to other transport operators and was in fear of being left behind.
He led a takeover of the railroad in 1852, becoming its president and setting about making it more profitable and efficient, his flair for figures and management style being imitated by other railroads, and other companies. Pennsylvania Railroad quickly became a powerhouse, and later it expanded beyond the borders of the state, moving into Ohio and then New York (surely a rival to Erie Railroad at this point?), on into New Jersey and eventually as far as Chicago. He negotiated for steel to replace the old wooden bridges and iron rails, making his railroad sturdier and able to bear heavier engines. Becoming one of the US’s largest and most profitable railroads was not enough for Thomson though, who had his eyes ever on expansion, and with the nascent transcontinental in mind, bought an interest in the Union Pacific Railroad.
Benjamin H. Latrobe (1806 - 1878)
Another major figure in the evolution of the early American railroad, Latrobe was a native of Pennsylvania but it was in Baltimore, Maryland that he studied to be a civil engineer like his father, and to which he moved back after having completed his studies at Georgetown, Washington. In 1820 he was engaged by the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad to survey and plan the Washington leg of the route, and he designed the Thomas Viaduct, which at the time was the largest bridge in America. He was appointed chief engineer in 1842.
Philip Evan Thomas (1776 - 1861)
Another one born in the year America won her independence, Thomas was one of the architects behind the Baltimore & Ohio, and has been called “the Father of the American Railroad”. He was related by marriage to the founder of Johns Hopkins University, which is still in operation today. Along with other investors he attained the charter in 1827 for the Baltimore & Ohio, which would be America’s first railroad, and one of the first in fact in the world. Construction began in 1828 and the first train was running two years later. He was one of the few railroad executives who did anything for Native Americans, heading the Society of Friends Indian Affairs Committee, and representing the Six Indian Nations in Washington.
George Brown (1787 - 1859)
A native of County Antrim, in Northern Ireland, Brown emigrated at the age of 18 to Maryland, where he joined the militia and helped defend Baltimore against the British in the War of 1812, later joining the family business of investment banking, then started his own bank, which is one of America’s largest private banks even today. Together with Evan Thomas and others, he proposed and then financed the building of the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad, being elected its treasurer. Another philanthropist, he was in charge of the House of Juvenile Offenders from 1849 until his death ten years later, and served as president of the Baltimore Association for the Improvements of the Conditions of the Poor.
Although the first American railroad, the Baltimore & Ohio was not the most progressive, being left well behind by the Erie and others as they refused to commit to the new technology of steam locomotives, insisting on relying on horse power for several years. It would take a demonstration, as already detailed, by Peter Cooper’s tiny Tom Thumb to convince the bosses at B&O that steam was the way to go, though they would still take several years to implement the change. They would however be the first railroad to use the new technology of the telegraph, while it would be the Erie’s Charles Minot who would use it to its fullest.
While we can - rightly and with full justification - deplore the southern states for their policy of slavery, it should not be forgotten or removed from history that slavery went on in the northern states too, at least until the Civil War and the Emancipation Proclamation, and slaves from Maryland were said to have been transported on the railroad (probably in baggage or freight cars) to the southern states and anywhere else to which they were sold. As the railroad did not run as far as the south though, and as southern railroads were all restricted to operating within their own borders, slaves would be taken by rail to the terminus of the B&O, the Ohio River, and then transferred onto riverboats to complete their journey to a life of misery.
Further shame - seen through the lens of history and with hindsight - accrued to the B&O when it helped put down the insurrection of abolitionist John Brown, in 1859. Not only did the railroad telegraph details of the uprising to its head office, which then contacted the White House, but they allowed their trains to carry US Marines and guns to put down the rebellion, in which ten men died, and another seven were later executed after trial. It’s somewhat telling, and should - and hopefully is, though I doubt it, more likely swept under the carpet of history - be a lasting subject of shame and dishonour that the main concern of president John W. Garrett after the uprising had been brutally put down was for his property: thank God there was no damage to his trains or equipment, he sighed. Cu
nt.
What the Dickens! England’s foremost author of the time gives his impressions
When the legendary Charles Dickens visited America in 1842, like his queen, he was not amused at the state of the American railroad, comparing it most unfavourable to that from his homeland. The idea of there being no compartments, as already mentioned, in the early cars annoyed him, as he was a private man and was forced to share space with about fifty other passengers, most of whom (being American, duh) spoke loudly on many subjects to each other. He did however approve of the provision of a special carriage for ladies, that they might not be subjected to such ignominy, nor have to breathe the foul fumes that swirled around the men’s carriage, as almost every man smoked. He wrote about his experiences on the railroad, and other aspects of his American trip, in American Notes, published later that year. His observations ensured there would be a fractious relationship between the author and his American fans.
Dickens, who regularly criticised the government and the class society in England, deplored the mindless nationalism of Americans, who seemed to believe, then as now, that their country was the greatest in the world and could do no wrong. For a nation barely seventy years old at this stage, Dickens probably thought they were pushing it. The loud voices and strange accents (mispronouncing, as he believed, common English words) got on his nerves, as did the less than professional attitude of the conductors, who did not wear a uniform and walked with their hands in their pockets. He was shocked that black people were not allowed to ride in the same carriages as white people, and, too, at the “hulking box” that they were provided for their transport on the train.
He hated the habits of “uncultured” Americans who would chew tobacco and spit it on the floor, and probably loathed as well the vendors of sweets, cigarettes, newspapers and other items who roamed the carriages hawking their wares, something that surely was not cricket back in good old England. The crude heating system on the early trains was no more than a stove placed in the middle of the carriage, which meant that those who were closest to it were roasted while those furthest from it froze, and of course they were a safety hazard as the carriages, as already mentioned, tended to bump and jolt along the track, and though it’s not said in the account I read, I can assume that the stoves were not bolted down in any way. Additionally, if the windows were opened stray sparks from the fire could be caught by the wind and set people’s clothes on fire, while leaving the windows shut meant risking being suffocated. Here’s an extract:
There is a great deal of jolting, a great deal of noise, a great deal of wall, not much window, a locomotive engine, a shriek, and a bell. . . . Except when a branch road joins the main one, there is seldom more than one track of rails; so that the road is very narrow, and the view, where there is a deep cutting, by no means extensive. When there is not, the character of the scenery is always the same. Mile after mile of stunted trees: some hewn down by the axe, some blown down by the wind, some half fallen and resting on their neighbours. . . . Now you emerge for a few brief minutes on an open country, glittering with some bright lake or pool, broad as many an English river, but so small here that it scarcely has a name; now catch hasty glimpses of a distant town, with its clean white houses and their cool piazzas, its prim New England church and schoolhouse; when whir-r-r-r! almost before you have seen them, comes the same dark screen: the stunted trees, the stumps, the logs, the stagnant water.
The train calls at stations in the woods, where the wild impossibility of anybody having the smallest reason to get out, is only to be equalled by the apparently desperate hopelessness of there being anybody to get in. It rushes across the turnpike road, where there is no gate, no policeman, no signal: nothing but a rough wooden arch, on which is painted “When The Bell Rings, Look Out For The Locomotive.” On it whirls headlong, dives through the woods again, emerges in the light, clatters over frail arches, rumbles upon the heavy ground, shoots beneath a wooden bridge which intercepts the light for a second like a wink, suddenly awakens all the slumbering echoes in the main street of a large town, and dashes on hap-hazard, pell-mell, neck-or-nothing, down the middle of the road . . . on, on, on—tears the mad dragon of an engine with its train of cars; scattering in all directions a shower of burning sparks from its wood fire; screeching, hissing, yelling, panting; until at last the thirsty monster stops beneath a covered way to drink, the people cluster round, and you have time to breathe again.
Other things that amazed the author were the fact that the railroad often ran down main streets, which was never the case in England, the rails always running parallel to any town or village, but never through it, and how few passengers waited at the equally few stations along the line.
Which brings us to…
A Hard Station: Europe vs America
When we think of railway stations today, we think of grand, sumptuous buildings, often with several floors, lifts (or elevators for you Americans), majestic winding staircases, places where we can get a coffee, or even a full meal, perhaps an entire shopping mall. Naturally, in the beginning train stations were nothing like this, but it’s a fact that the ones built in Britain and Europe were less geared towards function only and more to cater to comfort and service, whereas certainly in the early days at least, American stations, or depots, as they called them, were little more than sheds or barns through which a train would run and where the passengers could be offloaded and then fu
ck off. There were no amenities, no connecting transport, often no staff. It would almost be like getting kicked off the train for not paying your fare, with no particular thought or concern given to where you were forcibly disembarked.
This could have been due to many factors, most likely paramount among which was the class system in England, where railway passengers expected a certain degree of decorum, a modicum of comfort and that the railway people gave, or seemed to give, a damn about them. It was a case of ensuring the passenger became a regular one, and treating him as a customer rather than a piece of freight. The American way, on the other hand, was all about the dollar, and how few of them the railroad companies could spend compared to how many they could make. Stations cost money of course, and without such a thing in American history before, as the railroad was entirely new, unless someone had visited Britain or the Continent (and how few Americans ever left their home town, never mind state, and forget about crossing the ocean?) nobody was any the wiser.
So costs were kept to a minimum, and stations few. Even the ones that were built, as I said above, were the rudest of sheds, almost like the sides of a tunnel into which the train would go, stop and let the passengers off, and go on again. After they got off, how they got to their actual destination was their lookout: no connecting wagons, boats, anything like that. No service to call on, no telegraph unless they were very lucky, and nobody there to help them. A shed in the middle of nowhere, basically. A few had the luxury of (gasp!) doors, but even then it happened that trains would crash through them, so many did not. So they were mostly cold and cheerless, but even so, better than what some rail stops could offer; many times a train simply stopped on the corner of a street to collect or let passengers off, and might have to be waved down to be stopped anywhere else. Occasionally there was a ticket office built along the line, and here lucky passengers could shelter while waiting for, or having alighted from, the train, though there would of course be no facilities for them.
Contrast this with the graceful lines of stations in England like the terminal at Liverpool’s Crown Street or Paddington Station in London, or the oldest surviving railway terminal in the world, Liverpool Road terminal, which still stands today. Bold lines, high vaulted ceilings, sturdy platforms and ticket booths made these places to be admired, to be happy to go to, to explore, to relax in. Not a simple dumping or loading point for passengers as if they were cattle on the way to market, these were proper stations, beautiful buildings, well designed and protected from the elements, offering all sorts of amenities.
As for the French, well, they were hardly going to be outdone by the British, were they? The old enemy?
Mais non! France in fact boasts today some of the most stunning and beautiful architecture in the world, and much of it went into train stations built in the 1830s. The Saint-Lazare, the Gare de l’Est, the Gare de Lyons and especially the Gare du Nord, which has twenty-three professional sculptures, all show how Paris took the lead in the field. Other countries would not be left behind either, with stations more resembling cathedrals really in places like Antwerp, Budapest and Milan springing up in the latter parts of the nineteenth century. Americans would finally get it of course - witness Grand Central - but until the need for an actual building and not just a shed was realised, they’d had to put up with these rickety structures. Which, by the way, were made of wood and, well, when a steam engine hammers through a structure made of wood… The Massachusetts Eastern Railroad learned this to their cost in 1836 when, on the very first day of operation, their East Boston terminal burned down. Oops! An inauspicious start, to say the least.