We have quoted verbatim from the Argos Reflector newspaper of November 9th, so please excuse the fact that reporters of that era did not miss the opportunity to create great drama when writing the news.
“Last Thursday evening the people of our neighboring community of Tippecanoe, seven miles east of here, were shocked to learn of a distressing accident that happened at the crossing of the Nickel Plate tracks near the depot. Daniel Fawley, a farmer living east of Tippecanoe, was struck by the westbound passenger train and his lifeless body was hurled against Agent Elliott with a violence that resulted in the latter’s death Sunday evening. It seems that Mr. Fawley, having alighted from the eastbound passenger train that arrives there about six o’clock, started to cross the main track to go uptown. Now, the fatal defect in the railroad company’s system of taking on and leaving off passengers at this place is that the eastbound train takes the siding which compels passengers to board from and alight upon the main track. This brazen disregard for the safety of human life is much emphasized by the fact that the westbound passenger train is due to pass here at the same time. When Mr. Fawley started across the tracks, unconscious of the approach of the train from the east, he heard a warning cry from W.C. Elliott, the veteran agent at this station. Just as he turned his head the locomotive struck him with the results above mentioned. The body of Mr. Fawley was badly mangled, being hurled 25 feet or more and death was practically instantaneous.
W.C. Elliott had been in the service of the Nickel Plate as agent for nearly 30 years, or since the completion of the road, and had come to be regarded as a landmark of the place and had won the respect and regard of all who knew him. His life hung in the balance of uncertainty til Sunday evening when the soul of this faithful servant left its earthly tenement. Mr. Fawley lived alone on his farm. He leaves one child, Mrs. Clyde Stockberger. Mr. Elliott was about 70, a soldier of the civil war and a Mason. His body was taken to Indianapolis for burial. In the unequal struggle between Duty and Dividends the latter has scored another point. But it shall not ever be thus. The awakening conscience of the people will assert itself and such death traps as this one will be relegated to the junk pile of oblivion.”
To learn more about trains in Marshall County, visit our museum from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Tuesdays through Saturdays. To see our model trains run, visit our train room from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. on Saturdays!
We can’t show you the Liberty Bell, but don’t miss the opportunity to stop in at the Marshall County Museum between October 14 – 25 to visit The American Revolution Experience, a special exhibit sponsored by the National Society Daughters of the American Revolution and the American Battlefield Trust. Stop in any time from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.
A Tour Around the Country
Most Americans love the icons that represent our country. The Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, the Statue of Liberty – and the Liberty Bell. Many of those famous symbols cannot come to visit us, but the Liberty Bell could and did!
The Liberty Bell had always been popular, but its national tour around the country in the summer of 1915 really vaulted it into the consciousness of the American people. In 1915 the United States was on the verge of entering World War I and the powers that be in Washington, D.C. felt that some symbol to unite the country was needed before they announced any decision about entering the war.
The Panama-Pacific International Exposition in San Francisco was being planned to celebrate the completion of the Panama Canal. It would be the first World’s Fair to be held on the West Coast. San Francisco’s mayor, James “Sunny Jim” Rolph, got the idea to have the Liberty Bell brought out to San Francisco for the fair. He was joined by many others, including publisher William Randolph Hearst. The Liberty Bell had been exhibited from time to time in various places, including the 1893 Columbian Exhibition (World’s Fair) in Chicago, but had never been west of St. Louis.
Liberty Bell as it rolls into Chicago ca. 1893.
The idea was that if the Liberty Bell came to California, it would help connect the newer western part of the United States with the older eastern area and help westerners identify with their country’s early colonial history. When the idea was first proposed, Philadelphia mayor Rudolph Blankenburg was all for it, but it was opposed by other politicians. However, when the ship Lusitania was sunk on May 7, 1915, with the loss of 128 American lives before we even entered the war, the resulting cry of outrage helped the City of Philadelphia decide not only to let the Liberty Bell go to San Francisco, but also to make a whistle stop tour of America.
The Pennsylvania Railroad put together a designated train for the tour, the Liberty Bell Special. The railroad constructed the best cushioned rail car in history with the biggest springs ever used. On July 5, 1915, after a local celebration at Independence Hall, the train pulled out of Philadelphia with the Liberty Bell riding on its custom car.
Getting the Bell to Plymouth
Plymouth Mayor Whitsell and Col. Thomas Twomey persuaded Philadelphia’s Mayor Blankenburg to rearrange the tour schedule to include a stop in Plymouth. Col. Twomey showed Mayor Blankenburg that Plymouth was the central point between the Fort Wayne and Gary stops and convinced him that the train could stop in Plymouth and break its long run across the state.
Among the places the Liberty Bell would visit on its northern route to San Francisco were Pittsburgh, Chicago, Kansas City, Denver, Seattle and, of course, Plymouth. Coming back to Philadelphia, its southern route went through Los Angeles, Tucson, Fort Worth, Dallas, New Orleans, Memphis, Louisville, Cincinnati and Cleveland. The train encountered a huge number of people at every stop. They were thrilled and excited, and they wanted to see and touch the Liberty Bell. One man in Kansas City who touched it was a former slave, now 100 years old.
The Liberty Bell arrived in San Francisco on July 17 and was on exhibit for four months at the fair, displayed on a 400-year-old Persian carpet. Each evening, guards removed it from the platform and placed it in an earthquake-proof vault. It was the biggest draw at the fair and actually made the San Francisco fair a success. Politically, the Liberty Bell also united the American people behind the resolve to enter World War I.
The Liberty Bell arrived in Plymouth on July 6, 1915, at 2:53 p.m. for five minutes, moving on at 2:58 p.m. And what a five minutes it was. More than 4,000 people came to see the bell at the Plymouth Pennsylvania station. The crowd was orderly, and everyone got a good view of the railroad car and the bell, including the famous crack. A local newspaper said, “It was history reanimated into life.” The Bremen town band was playing when the train pulled into the station and gave a concert in the evening.
In 1892, Plymouth was a stop for an “orphan train” that transported thousands of children. They came from the streets of New York and New England to new homes in the Midwest. From 1854-1929, nearly 4,000 orphans, ranging from ages 1 to 12 were brought to Indiana. All together almost 250,000 “little waifs” climbed aboard the orphan trains and headed west in search of a family. They got off the train with name cards pinned to their clothing. Many were orphaned not only by the death of a parent, but because of poverty and neglect, and would have died on the streets. The image above features the New England Home for Little Wanderers of Boston. Rev. H.S. Kimball, an agent of the home, preaches at the M.E. Church in Argos.
Who Took In Travelers from the Orphan Train?
Children from the orphan trains were placed in homes depending on the needs of prospective adoptive parents. Sometimes their own child had died and they were seeking to expand their family. Some older couples needed someone to look after them, or a farm family needed an extra pair of hands to help with the chores. Some of the agricultural families believed the abandoned children should work to “earn their keep.” Sadly, some siblings went to different homes. The orphans were at the mercy of their adoptive families.
Locally, 26 orphans found permanent homes in Marshall County from the New England Orphan’s Home, although the supply didn’t meet the demand for these kids. “The children were the objects of considerable attention,” according to an edition of the June 1892 Plymouth Democrat. The orphans, gathered at the Methodist church in Plymouth, hoped to win the hearts of a new family. The would-be foster parents could specify exactly what they wanted. For instance, a blue-eyed blonde female, or a sturdy red-headed male. Some orphans were luckier than others. Many were placed loving homes with caring families, but others lived a life of hard farm labor. It seemed a bit callous, but “beggars couldn’t be choosers.” Although every situation was unique, adoption was perceived as better than life on the streets.
The Good and the Bad of Adoption
One of the grown-up orphans that made her home in another state, Jesse Martin, said that being an orphan train rider taught her to have more understanding of people’s pain. She never felt like she fit in. She said the children at school would say, “No one cares for you, not even your own mother!” She says she simply became grateful for the kind people along the way.
Not all these little wanderers had such an unhappy experience. Many found good homes and received the best of care. One particular child caught the eye of a new parent that was grieving from the loss of their own. According to an article from the 1990 Herald Banner, (Greenville, Texas) Helen Hale Vaughn said that her mother would become very angry at anyone who referred to her as their “adoptive” daughter. Whenever Helen would come home broken-hearted, her mother would embrace her and say, “You just remember, we chose you, and they were born to their parents, so they had to have ’em!”
The Legacy of the Orphan Train and Its Travelers
Some of the orphans given an opportunity for a new life prospered and flourished in their new environment. Many orphan train children went on to live long productive lives and were able to enjoy their grandchildren, and many times great-grandchildren. They weren’t looking for fame and fortune, but a better life and “to love and be loved!” The orphan train provided a means for these children to have the will to go on and made survivors out of them.
For more specific information on the local impact of the orphan train, visit the Marshall County Museum and enjoy the research done by Christopher Chalko who spent time collecting data, newspaper articles and personal letters of people that actually rode the orphan train. It’s interesting reading material that is a part of our history in Marshall County and across the United States.
One of the most successful early businesses in Marshall County was the Edgerton Basket Factory. Ease of transportation is critical for growth of trade. And Marshall County, being a crossroads, was attractive to businesses looking for a home. One such was Edgerton Manufacturing, which grew to become the LARGEST BASKET FACTORY in the entire country. Baskets were crucial shipping containers for agricultural products, and Edgerton Baskets were the gold standard.
Peak Volume in 1910
In 1910 alone, 1,632,892 baskets were created. That’s enough baskets to line the road from Niles, MI, to Bloomington, IN, ROUND-TRIP, and still have 45 miles of baskets left over.
At one time, Edgerton offered thirty-nine grades of baskets in 178 different sizes! Some of these sold as low as thirty cents per dozen, and others as high as $106 per dozen. This translates to $9.23 to $3,621. per dozen today. There were shipping baskets for fruits, vegetables, crackers, candy and coffee; carrying baskets for coal, lime and cement; round baskets for feeding and cotton picking; reed, splint and diamond weave baskets for clothes; bamboo, splint and diamond weave baskets for delivery, market, display, crockery, satchels or lunch, fancy waste hampers, and all kinds of laundry baskets.
Local and Imported Woods
The wood varieties used included oak, elm, beech, maple sugar, basswood, poplar, cottonwood, gum, sycamore, ash, hickory and other kinds. The company imported 55,900 pounds of rattan from Germany at a cost of five cents per pound. Sadly, Edgerton Basket Factory closed their doors in 1939.
Ahead of Their Time
Edgerton was unusual for its day in that they actively recruited and employed women and offered insurance as an employment benefit. Just one example of some forward thinking by county residents. A child labor law was passed in 1897 and in May Edgerton discharged all those under the age of fourteen. It was reported that there were less than a dozen under that age.
At the Marshall County Historical Society Museum, we have the “warning whistle” which was sounded before the startup of the main engine so that anyone working on the line-shafting had time to get down safely. We also have several beautiful examples of Edgerton baskets. Stop at the front desk the next time you visit and ask to see them.
In fall 1957 I was a first-year cadet at Culver Military Academy. Our family then lived in Hamilton, OH, where my dad was employed as director of engineering for Baldwin-Lima-Hamilton, the amalgamation of Baldwin Locomotive Works, Lima Locomotive Works and other companies. At the time I had little knowledge of – or appreciation for – Dad’s close personal association with senior officials of most eastern railroads, including the mighty Pennsylvania.
My folks visited me on the weekend of Culver’s annual “Fall Festival,” during which Dad mentioned that Sunday evening he’d be going on to New York for a meeting of the American Society of Mechanical Engineers. He planned to catch the Broadway Limited at Plymouth, Being 15-years-old and having read all the copies of Trains he brought home, I was expert enough in “things railroad.” I knew that PRR’s flagship passenger train was really hot stuff. My excitement rose knowing I’d soon see this railroad icon up close.
On Sunday afternoon we drove to Plymouth, arriving well ahead of Dad’s estimated arrival time of train 28. Since the Broadway Limited was scheduled to run non-stop from Englewood to Fort Wayne, the public timetable showed no station stop at Plymouth, although the county seat of Marshall County was a busy railroad junction in the late 1950s. In addition to the Pennsy’s very busy main line between Chicago and the East, the PRR branch between Logansport and South Bend crossed not only the main line but also Nickel Plate Road’s Argos-to-Michigan City branch.
Plymouth Tower was manned around the clock. I dutifully deposited Dad’s luggage on the platform and proceeded to the tower to check the Broadway Limited’s progress. Eyeing my Culver uniform, the veteran operator, who probably had seen it all, finally responded to my query: “Son, the Broadway doesn’t stop at Plymouth.”
Applying my vast knowledge of Pennsylvania train numbers, I retorted, “Sir, No. 28 will stop here tonight to pick up my father, who’s waiting in the car.” Figuring there was no possibility I could be correct, he calmly pulled the scissor phone toward him and contacted the Fort Wayne Division dispatcher:
DISPATCHER: (shuffling through papers): Well, YEAH, Gene. Got a message 28’s to pick up a Mr. Van Schwartz on the rear car. It was on time out of Englewood. Give me an OS when he leaves.
“OPERATOR: Plymouth, got a rumor that 28’s gonna stop here tonight.
OPERATOR: Been around this road for 34 years, never seen this before.
DISPATCHER: Me neither, Gene. Me neither.
Maybe, just maybe, Gene was going to take this upstart 15-year-old seriously. After all, he was part of the plot to stop the Pennsylvania Railroad’s premier passenger train at the small town of Plymouth. Still skeptical, he reached for the handset of Pennsy’s inductive Train Phone system.
OPERATOR: Plymouth to No. 28. Ya gonna stop here tonight?
ENGINEER ON 28: That’s right, Plymouth. We just hit the diamond at Hamlet and will be there directly. Have this guy ready for us to grab him.
OPERATOR: Been around this road for 34 years, never seen this before.
ENGINEER ON 28: Me neither, Gene. Me neither.
OPERATOR: (to me): Your father must be somebody to pull this off. You get him ready, or I’ll catch hell for the delay.”
I smiled, waved, and headed out the door and down the tower steps. Our family name was not to be sullied by delaying the Broadway Limited.
The orange glow of the setting sun on the western horizon soon was replaced by the orange glow of an eastbound headlight. The air filled with blue smoke from heaving braking as three E units thumped over the crossing diamonds. There is no way this train would stop on the platform! The growl of the passing Es was quickly followed by the subdued interior lights of Pullmans, a double-unit diner and more Pullmans – the scene made even more magical by the clouds of brake-shoe smoke. As the observation car approached, Dad positioned himself to board the train.
In a technical sense, Operator Gene’s worst nightmare – the Broadway Limited stopping at Plymouth, IN – did not happen that night so long ago. The Broadway only slowed down to pick up my father! As the observation car drew near, I spotted a burly Pullman porter on the bottom step of the vestibule, right arm extended. In one deft move, the porter scooped up Dad – luggage and all – and deposited him on the step next to him.
From my vantage point, I could see the rear trainman yank twice on the communicating cord (handset radios were still years away). Six 567 diesels roared an answer as the veteran engineer accelerated the Broadway out of town. The observation car’s name, Mountain View, was clearly visible, and I turned east to watch the marker lights and illuminated Broadway Limited sign quickly disappear from sight. The entire event had taken less than a minute!
I never knew what Operator Gene reported to the train dispatcher regarding the “delay” to No. 28 and, in retrospect, I doubt the event ever made the next morning report in the sacrosanct halls of PRR’s Philadelphia headquarters. As I learned in the years to come, some things are better left unsaid or unreported.
(Note: So when the engineer said,” Have this guy ready for us to grab him,” that was exactly what he meant!)
