Have you ever heard of the Crash at Crush? It
started as a publicity stunt. Crash two locomotives together and sell tickets.
They’d done it before to the accolades of
spectators.
William G. Crush, agent for The
Missouri-Kansas-Texas “Katy” (MKT) Railroad knew that the public was fascinated
by train wrecks. They seem to be the California Police pursuits of the 19th
century. People would travel from miles away just to get a look at the twisted
metal and destruction, the victims scalded by the explosion of the engine’s
boiler.
[This is Mr. Crush as
sketched for the Galveston
Daily News on September 16, 1896.]
So, William pitched an idea to Katy Railroad
officials: intentionally crash two trains in full view of spectators. It had
been done successfully a few months earlier in Ohio, to the delight of spectators.
Needless to say, his superiors loved the idea.
The town of Crush,
Texas,
complete with a depot, was constructed just for the event. A special branch
line of tracks was laid about 4 miles outside of the town of West. Wells were
dug, water was run, food and drinks were available for purchase, and a huge
tent was borrowed from Barnum & Bailey Circus to serve as a grandstand and
protect the elite guests from the weather and the common spectators.
Rather than charge admission to the event, the
railroad decided to make the event free—and charge $2 round-trip for a ride to
site of the crash.
Everything was ready when dawn came on September
15, 1896. The train engines, #999 and #1001, were painted bright green and
bright red, respectively. Both had been stripped down to ensure nothing went
wrong. Six cars were attached to each engine to enhance the crash.
The organizers expected around 20,000
spectators to show up and planned accordingly. By the time the event started,
more than twice that number jammed the small valley. Every inch of ground was
jammed with people waiting to see two trains smash each other into scrap metal.
A carnival atmosphere prevailed, complete with medicine shows, game booths,
politicians and souvenir stands. The men, women and children were given until
late afternoon to listen to speeches and spend their money.
At 5pm, the two trains nosed together as if
shaking hands and posed for pictures. They then backed up the low hills to
opposite ends of the four mile track, and at ten minutes after 5pm, as Mr.
Crush sat on horseback and waved a white hat as a signal, the engineers opened
the steam to the predetermined setting and put the trains into motion before
jumping off.
I’ll let the reporter
for The Dallas Morning News describe
what happened:
"The
rumble of the two trains, faint and far off at first, but growing nearer and
more distinct with each fleeting second, was like the gathering force of a
cyclone. Nearer and nearer they came, the whistles of each blowing repeatedly
and the torpedoes which had been placed on the track exploding in almost a
continuous round like the rattle of musketry. ... They rolled down at a
frightful rate of speed to within a quarter of a mile of each other. Nearer and
nearer as they approached the fatal meeting place the rumbling increased, the
roaring grew louder ...
"Now
they were within ten feet of each other, the bright red and green paint on the
engines and the gaudy advertisements on the cars showing clear and distinct in
the glaring sun.
"A
crash, a sound of timbers rent and torn, and then a shower of splinters.
"There
was just a swift instance of silence, and then as if controlled by a single
impulse both boilers exploded simultaneously and the air was filled with flying
missiles of iron and steel varying in size from a postage stamp to half of a
driving wheel ...
"All
that remained of the two engines and twelve cars was a smoking mass of
fractured metal and kindling wood, except one car on the rear of each train,
which had been left untouched. The engines had both been completely telescoped,
and contrary to experience in such cases, instead of rising in the air from the
force of the blow, were just flattened out. There was nothing about the cars
big enough to save except pieces of wood, which were eagerly seized upon and
carried home as souvenirs."
The plan was for the trains to reach
approximately 10mph by the time they met in the middle. Instead, they were
traveling closer to 45mph. The impact sent shrapnel flying more than 100 feet
into the air—and into the crowd. Miraculously, considering the size of the
crowd, only three people were killed.
William Crush was fired the evening of the
crash, but Katy Railroad officials rehired him the very next day, and he worked
for the company until he retired.
The "Crash at Crush" was immortalized
by famed Texas
ragtime composer Scott Joplin in his march, "The Great Crush Collision
March." Click here to listen to the
music – complete with crash and
scream: http://www.perfessorbill.com/covers/crush.htm
It was a publicity stunt that will never be
attempted again – but the stories remain, told over and over by those who were
there for the Crash at Crush.
Tracy Garrett
UNDER A WESTERN SKY
The cameo is much older than I thought. Though
the origins are still under dispute, most think the word “Cameo” comes from the Hebrew word KAMEA, meaning a charm or amulet, or from the Latin
CAMMAEUS, meaning "engraved gem". 
Stone, shell and coral are the materials most
often used for the carvings. In stones, you’ll find agate and less often,
turquoise.
