Monday, September 5, 2016

The Steamboats Washington, Enterprise, and Constitution Boilers Explode.

 The Steamboats Washington, Enterprise, and Constitution
Man's first Lessons on the dangers of modern transportation.



Ahhh, riverboats!!  The throaty, bass wail of a multi-toned steam whistle as paddle-wheels thrash the muddy waters of The Mississippi...or Ohio, or Red, or Missouri, or any of a couple of dozen or so navigable rivers...into dirty white foam as wood smoke boils from those classic tall twin stacks and the river pilot holds court in that classic boxy pilot house, feeling the river's mood through the spokes of a gigantic ship's wheel.. It's a scene that's been a staple of just about every movie about the Antebellum South that's ever been made. Heck, there was even a TV series about one

But in all seriousness, these lovely ladies of the western rivers opened up the American west long before there was anything even vaguely resembling an actual intercity or interstate road in that end of the world, giving America it's first taste of reliable, high speed (For that era) long distance travel. They transported tens of thousands of passengers and hundreds of thousand of tons of freight on America's western rivers...but unfortunately, they didn't do so without incident, drama, and...well, a disaster or two or three. Steam propulsion was, after all, a brand new technology in the early 19th century, and what brand new technology hasn't had teething problems before it got on it's feet good..

But...before we get to said disasters, I've gotta kick this one off with a short...very short...basic history lesson RE: Steamboats and the expansion of America, because if we're gonna jump back two or so centuries to talk about the very first major accidents involving the very first steamboats to travel the very first interstate transportation network in the U.S., we kinda gotta talk a little about the development of said steamboats, and the guys who developed them.

SO, then!!! Quit talking and shooting spit-balls, eyes front and pay attention! (Rob raps chalkboard with pointer.)  History class is in session!!

The US began it's first big expansion right after The Revolutionary War, with the creation of The Mississippi Territory in 1798, and the acquisition of the Louisiana Purchase in 1803.  These two land acquisitions gave the U.S. around 850,000 square miles of new territory...territory, from which I might add, over a dozen states would ultimately be carved. This newly minted chunk of the then-still-so-new-it-shined U.S.A. measured nearly 1000 miles east to west at it's widest point, and extended north to south from the Canadian border to the Gulf of Mexico .

 All of this brand new undeveloped, unsettled land kicked off a human stamped of hopeful land-owner wannabes that makes Black Friday at any given Walmart look like Vacation Bible School.  In all seriousness, though, these two pieces of real estate just about doubled the size of the U.S. Thing is, as people settled the new area and founded towns and cities, the problems of shipping and travel to these new towns and cities also doubled. 

 Two centuries ago, there were very few real roads, period, much less interstate roads,...meaning dirt paths that actually crossed state lines...in the already settled and more or less developed area east of the Mississippi. In the newly acquired lands west of Old Man River, roads were all but nonexistent. Travel was S-L-O-W no matter which side of The Mississippi you hailed from.

OK...history lesson, such that it was, over. Now lets get to that travel problem, and how, two hundred years later, it yielded a post in a blog about disasters big and small. 

While there weren't many roads in this newly acquired region, this entire area had one big thing...and I mean 'Big' literally...going for it, travel-wise. Pull up a good map of the Louisiana purchase and the Mississippi Territory...preferably one that shows natural features like...oh, i don't know...rivers and streams.  You don't even have to look real hard to see that an obscure little stream called The Mississippi River forms the entire eastern boundary of the Louisiana purchase, and, before finally emptying into the Gulf, that same little trickle of water forms the Mississippi Territory's western boundary. The Mississippi is 2320 miles long, and all but the extreme northern-most 400 or so miles of it is navigable. Better still, Old Man River has hundreds of streams emptying into it, among them around two dozen major navigable rivers, extending navigable waters several hundred miles east and west of The Mississippi itself.

Map of the Louisiana Purchase, with the Mississippi forming almost the entire eastern boundary. Over two dozen navigable rivers flowed into the Mississippi, extending the navigable waters several hundred miles east and west of the Mississippi.



 The hearty people who ventured West were not even vaguely stupid, and they knew a good thing when they saw one...the good thing in question being the country's first interstate transportation system, already laid out and ready to use. So, when people congregated and decided to build a town, it was almost a given that it would be on the banks of one of these rivers, allowing them ready access to this natural highway system.

They had rivers, they had boats...but they still had a problem. Barges could move downstream with the flow of the river, with the crew pushing poles against the river bottom to keep them off of the muddy shallows near the riverbanks, fend off logs and snags that could punch through a wooden hull like it was made of wet cardboard, and generally keep the bow pointed down stream. Pretty good progress could be made down river, but moving a barge load of goods or a passenger packet upstream...against the river's flow...was another thing entirely. Just try 'poling' a good sized cargo barge from that era upstream against the Mississippi's...or any western river's...current and you'll see what I mean. Unless you hailed from another planet, had a big red  'S' embroidered on the front of all of your shirts, and were allergic to Kryptonite, you weren't going to make much speed getting a barge upstream using manpower alone.  Oh, given enough manpower, it could be...and indeed, was...done, but walking along the banks would've been faster and probably less tiring.

An unknown artist knocked out this wood cut of a flatboat on the Ohio River. She was obviously going down stream, with the current here, as the poles are only being used to keep her in the main channel and off of the banks. If they were heading up river, against the currents, the guys lounging around enjoying the sun wouldn't have been so relaxed, and way more tha two poles would have been in use.

 Of course, a tow path could be built along the bank and mules or horses could tow a barge upstream...but this created other problems. Infrastructure had to be built and maintained, resources bought and hired, and the stream had to be dredged and cleared near the river bank. If you were going to do all of that ya might as well go whole hog and build a canal (And several, in fact, were built).

Or you could use sails...but using wind power in the narrow confines of a river while also having to  deal with current brought it's own share of problems. Oh it was doable..,and was done regularly on the rivers along the East Coast...but it was not easy.

Happily, the solution for this problem was being worked on even as The Mississippi Territory was being acquired.  Actually, the heart of that solution had been around for almost a century, in the form of the steam engine, which was developed in England and had actually been around in one form or the other since the very late 17th century...but they were not the same engines that powered the worlds first steamboats...not even close. Rather than using high pressure steam acting directly on pistons or turbines, these very early engines used the vacuums created by condensing steam to draft water out of mines. See, these very early steam engines were highly specialized...but not highly efficient...pieces of machinery. They were big, ponderous, fuel-sucking, profoundly inefficient water pumps, and were useful for absolutely nothing else.

Then in 1712 a guy named Thomas Newcomen developed a steam engine that boasted the basic layout of the engines that powered just about every side wheeler to ever ply one of America' rivers. The general layout you may note I said.  Oh it still operated on the vacuum principle, but Newcomen's vacuum acted on a piston inside a vertical cylinder rather than directly on water. Also, like a huge majority of riverboat steam engines, the piston in Newcomen's design was connected to a reciprocating 'walking beam'. True, the Newcomen engine's walking beam operated a pump rather than the crankshaft for a pair of paddle wheels, but, again, the basic layout was there. It could have, theoretically, turned a crankshaft, which could have turned a paddle wheel, but it would have been useless for it to do so. (1) The engine was huge...nowhere near small or light enough to be fitted with-in the hull of even the largest ships of that era and (2) the engine ran at about 12 strokes per minute, which would also yield about 12 RPM...if it could actually turn a multi-ton paddlewheel. Remember, these were very low pressure (1-3 PSI) engines, whose main purpose was pumping water...about 10 gallons per stroke. (3) The engines operated in a very jerky manner rather than the smooth operation needed to run machinery of any kind, which is why the few time it was tried...running a gristmill for example...it failed.


A GIF from Emoscopes, showing the Newcomen engine in operation. the pink represents steam, the blue water. Steam pushed the piston upward, then when it reached the top of it's stroke, cold water was sprayed into the cylinder, condensing the steam and creating a partial vacuum. This allowed atmospheric pressure to push the piston down. The 'walking beam' at the top of the image was connected to the piston on one side and the pump on the other side. As the engine piston was pushed downward, it lifted the pump piston, forcing the water out to the tune of about 10 gallons per stroke.



Newcomen's engine, therefore, was still a slow, cumbersome low pressure engine, suitable only for the job for which it was designed and used, and it would take several decades for steam engines to develop into smaller, faster running, and far more efficient high pressure engines that were small enough, yet powerful enough to propel something like, maybe...a boat..

But, by the late 1700s, work on just such an engine was developing. James Rumsey developed the water tube boiler, and, in 1784, used it on the first successful steam powered boat, which, BTW, was also the first ever jet boat...seriously...the steam engine powered a water pump that blasted a a stream of water out of a nozzle at the vessel's stern, pushing the boat forward. The engine, interestingly enough, was a smaller, somewhat modified version of a Newcomen engine, and it worked because the engine was stacked on top of a piston pump, with the engine piston connected directly to the pump piston. When the engine piston was forced upward by steam pressure, it pulled the pump piston up, which sucked water into the pump...then, when the steam in the cylinder was condensed, atmospheric pressure pushed the engine piston...and the pump piston...down, closing the water intake valve, opening a discharge valve, and forcing the water out of a nozzle beneath the stern.

Detailed illustration of how Rumsey's steam powered jet boat worked.


The jet boat was demonstrated successfully in Shepherdstown, Virginia (Now West Virginia) in December, 1787...the boat was able to make a good three miles per hour against the current. Despite his successful demonstration, Rumsey's design was never developed commercially, though.

 James Watt had developed the separate condenser a few years before Rumsey launched his steamboat, and Rumsey gladly adapted the separate condenser to his own engine, The separate condenser allowed the cylinder to stay at the same temperature at all times, which increased the efficiency of atmospheric (Vacuum ) engines two to three fold because energy wasn't wasted reheating the cylinder on each stroke.

 Watt then teamed up with Matthew Boulton to develop the double acting  steam engine, with high pressure steam actually acting directly on both sides of the piston, as well as developing a way to convert the piston and connecting rod's straight line motion to rotational motion, allowing it to turn a shaft...and an engine that could power a steamboat was born.

John Fitch gets credit for the first steam boat in actual commercial service. His first design...a strange contraption that utilized (I'm not making this up) steam-powered oars was less than successful, and was never demonstrated successfully, but his second design replaced the side mounted oars with stern mounted reciprocating paddles, mounted on a chain driven crankshaft, that drove the boat upstream at about three knots. Fitch made some improvements and built second and third boats that were larger (About 60 feet long), faster (Around seven or eight miles per hour) and became the first commercial steam boats, running between Philadelphia and Wilmington, Delaware three times a week during the summer of 1790.



A guy named Mike Sheppard built a working model of John Fitch's first steam boat...the one propelled by
steam powered oars. This model's powered by an electric motor, but from listening to his comments on the
video, he's planning on swapping it out for a steam engine.  Apparently this model is way more successful 
the actual steamboat was.




 A working model of John Fitch's second steamboat, which went in service on the Delaware River in 1890,
to become the first steamboat in commercial service in the US. 

The John Fitch Steamboat Museum, in Bucks County, Pa, built this awesome, six foot long working model, 
which is actually powered by an electric motor rather than a steam engine. As Rube Goldbergish as those stern paddles seem to be,  Fitch's steamboat was actually pretty advanced for her time. She was also four miles per hour faster than Bob 
Fulton's North River, which plied the Hudson River seventeen years later.  The rudder on the model is actually
 a more modern set-up than that on the actual steamboat...the model is, after all, radio controlled. Fitch's steamboat
 was still steered with a tiller, with the helmsman standing at the stern, exposed to all that spinning, chain-slapping, thrashing machinery. 




 Another video of the Fitch Steamboat Museum's model, showing the operation of the engine and paddle
 mechanism in closer and better detail. You can also see how big the model actually is.

 Unfortunately, the boat had a pretty limited passenger capacity, very few people took advantage of the service in the first place, and the fuel-hungry boiler burned wood like it was going out of style. Lesson One was learned about commercial steamboat (And self propelled vehicle in general) operations...you have to make enough money through passengers and freight revenue to off set fuel costs, and your engines have to be fuel efficient so said fuel costs won't be too high.  The nation's first steamboat service folded after only three or so months.

Then, nearly two decades later, in 1807, we have the guy who all of our history books told us invented the steam boat...Robert Fulton.  Bob Fulton didn't invent the steam boat. He just made it commercially viable. His North River Steam Boat...later shortened to  North River, and, due to an error by a 19th century historian, known to millions of school kids and amateur historians today as the Clermont... was big and fast enough to be a success and was also the first to employ that iconic symbol of the Steamboat Era, the paddle wheel. She was 150 feet long, had a beam of 18 feet, drew about 3 feet, and displaced just over 120 tons. That long slender hull could knife through the water rather than shoving it aside, so with her 15 foot diameter side wheels thrashing the Hudson River's waters, she could make a then astonishing 4 or 5 MPH.



A replica of Fulton's North River...Better known as the Clermont...built for the Hudson-Fulton celebration. The replica was 150 feet long with a beam of 16 feet, and powered by a reproduction of the James Watts style engine that powered the original.. The replica was a faithful as possible, working from old sketches and paintings and was around until the mid 1930s, when she was broken up for scrap. One thing they did get wrong, though...as she was never actually named Clermont, she never had that named painted on her bow.



She had decent speed and comfortable passenger accommodations that included berths for 56 passengers, a bar, and a kitchen, which reportedly even served pretty good meals. Most importantly, she could make the run from New York City to Albany in 32 hours versus the four days it took by sailing ship.

As if that wasn't good enough, two years later Fulton, along with his business partner Robert Livingston, put the first steamboat on Western waters in service on the Mississippi River. Slightly larger than Clermont, New Orleans was also successful, and was the first of thousands of steamboats that would ply the western rivers of the U.S. Her first voyage, captained by another of Fulton's business partners named Nicholas Roosevelt, took her from Pittsburgh to New Orleans, via the Ohio and Mississippi rivers...She departed from Pittsburgh on October 15th, 1811 and reached New Orleans five days shy of three months later, on Jan. 10th, 1812. Roosevelt returned to New York and ended his affiliation with Fulton shortly afterwards, while Fulton preceded to put the New Orleans in service making regular runs between New Orleans and Natchez, and all was well with the world.

Robert Fulton's New Orleans passing a flatboat on the Mississippi. New Orleans was a slightly larger clone of the North River, AKA Clermont, and her deep draft was pretty much completely unsuitable for regular service on most of the Western rivers, confining her to the deeper waters of the southernmost section of the river, running between New Orleans and Natchez, Mississippi.

Actually,...no, it wasn't. Problem was, technology was having trouble keeping up with itself.

 'Say what?' You ask. Read On, say I.

As steamboats were built, and developed, and improved, engines were built to operate at higher pressure to provide more speed (Particularly when running against against the current ) and be more efficient, and the boats became bigger and bigger...and boiler technology began to lag behind engine technology.

In fact, boiler technology already lagged behind engine technology, because the great majority of boiler manufacturers had no real clue about the forces involved in converting water to high pressure steam.. Oh, they knew that boiling water equals steam, therefore if they build a fire under this large metal container of water, it'll boil and produce said steam, and they knew how to produce more steam at higher temperatures...and pressures... for more efficient engine operation, but it's what they didn't know that was the problem.

They had absolutely no clue about such factors as the tensile, compressive or shear strengths of metals, and how those forces were changed as the metal heated. Operating engineers did not know the effects of scaling, mud, etc. They may not have initially even realized...as basic as this concept is...that if you let the water get too low, then introduce cold water onto super-heated metal you get an instant and catastrophic explosion.

On top of all of that, there were no Government safety standards in place for boilers, or steamboats, or, in fact, any mode of transportation. If someone wanted to build a steamboat out of paper and try powering it with a cardboard boiler, there was no government agency to tell him he couldn't do so, or to point out that his project was doomed to either soggy or fiery failure.

This, of course, means there was no governing standards of material or construction quality for the boilers, the engines, or the steamboats they powered, nor were there standards of competency for the crews of those steamboats. The general public literally believed that the benevolence of business owners would protect them, and that this same benevolence would lead said business owners to do whatever was necessary to keep them safe, no matter what the cost. 

Their ignorant bliss can be understood and excused though...remember, until The Richmond Theater Fire of 1811 there had been no man-made disaster in the US (And only a very few world wide) that had caused major loss of life, and multi casualty transportation accidents were all but unheard of. The only vehicles capable of carrying a large (For that era) number of people were ocean going ships, and their loss was generally weather related rather than equipment or human error related. Inland, large passenger capacity vehicles, be they land or water craft, just didn't exist, therefore the general public couldn't comprehend the possibility of a large number of people dying in a single accident.

This was about to change.

By early 1819, there were just shy of 40 steamboats in operation in the United States.Three of 'em...just shy of 8%...had already suffered fatal boiler explosions, and these three explosions occurred within the span of just under a year.. This is the story of those three ill-fated steamboats....The Washington, Enterprise, and Constitution.



Henry Shreve Gets In On The Act


While Fulton's New Orleans was the first steamboat on the Mississippi as well as the first to make a trip encompassing the entire navigable length of the river, she really wasn't well suited to the western rivers. She was basically a larger version of the North River AKA Clermont, with a length of 148 feet, a beam of 32 feet, and, most importantly a 'maximum depth ' of twelve feet. I'm betting that was measured from the main deck to the keel, which would have probably given her a draft of around six feet.

This deep draft caused New Orleans and her intrepid crew some problems on her first voyage, especially at the lower falls of the Mississippi and, once she made it to New Orleans and started commercial service, confined her to the lower Mississippi, which tended to run both wider and deeper than the upper reaches of the river.

Did I mention the fact that, while setting up the first regular steamboat service on the Mississippi,  Fulton also snagged himself and business partner Robert Livingston exclusive rights to operate steam boats on the lower Mississippi River? At least he thought  he did.

Enter a dude named Henry Shreve.

Shreve was born in 1785 in Mount Pleasant, N.J., then was hauled off to Fayette County, Pa. at the age of three, when his family moved (Their new home was on land owned by one George Washington, BTW).  Their new home was also near the Youghiogheny River, where young Henry Shreve most likely watched man and wind powered vessels travel back and forth and, like boys the world over, wondered what it would be like to crew (Or better still, own) one of these boats.

He'd find out at in 1799 at the tender age of 14, when his dad died and he signed on to a barge crew to help support his family. He also very likely...and very quickly...found out that much of the glamour associated with crewing on one of these beasts was imaginary, especially when he was one of the crew members manning the poles when they were poling her against the current.

But he was studious, industrious, and tack-sharp smart, and by 1810 he'd bought his own barge. What, or even if he named her, how big she was, and how many men comprised her crew are facts and figures long lost to history, but what is known is her home port was Brownsville, Pa, on the Ohio River, and she made trips as as far south as New Orleans.  On that 1814 trip, she arrived in New Orleans on February 11th, loaded, then departed for Brownsville, being poled against the current up the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers to reach Brownsville sometime in July of 1814.

That's right. Six months to make a trip that would take about a week on a modern freighter or tow boat today, and wouldn't have taken much longer, once steamboat service was well established on the Mississippi and other major rivers, in the mid to late 1800s.  I have a feeling it was during this six month manual-labor-fest that Henry got the thought  'There's gotta be a better way!' . And, in fact, a group of investors in Brownsville were a couple of steps ahead of him as, while Shreve was on his epic journey to New Orleans and back, they decided to build, designed, commissioned, and began construction of a steamboat, to be named Enterprise.

I'm not going to get too far into the career and voyages of the Steamship Enterprise here other to say she was uber-successful, even becoming the first steamship ever to be used by the military in war-time, and that she deserves (And will get) her own post, and that, on that first-ever-mission-by-a-military-steamer, she was captained by none other that Henry Shreve because of his knowledge of the Mississippi River. She also became the first steamboat to make the northbound trip from New Orleans to Pittsburgh, still under command of Henry Shreve.

It was during this voyage that Shreve decided he wanted a steam boat or two of his very own.

The Steamboat Washington's Boiler Explosion
The First Steamboat Accident on America's Western Rivers.

Henry Shreve, along with four partners, designed a new steamboat, and commissioned her construction at a boat yard in Wheeling, Virginia (Now West Virginia...t'was still part of the Old Dominion back then!). A couple of interesting points about the Washington.  First, everyone gets her confused with another steamboat named the George Washington, also built and owned by Henry Shreve. The George Washington was said to be the very first 'Classic' Mississippi River steamboat...You know multiple decks, forward pilothouse flanked by tall twin stacks, engines on the main deck, wide, shallow draft hull...problem is, lots of people and publications and web pages think she was the first Washington

Guess what gang...she wasn't. Oh the first Washington still had lots of those classic features, though. The lessons of deep draft vessels on the nation's western rivers had been well learned, so she was one of the first steamboats built with a horizontal main engine that, along with her boilers...four of them... was located on the main deck rather than in the hold. This allowed her to have a broad-beamed, flat-bottomed, shallow draft hull. She was just over 136 feet long with a beam of 22 feet,  a displacement of 211 tons, and most importantly, a draft of only three feet. Unlike the classic riverboats, however, she only had a single deck, if the few drawings of her that I could find are accurate. The description I (Finally) found of her describes her main cabin as being 60 feet long, and containing 'Three beautifully appointed private rooms as well as a bar room'. Her main cabin was forward, with her engine and boilers aft. She also had a single smoke stack rather than the tall twin stacks of classic riverboats, but she did apparently have the square, high-mounted pilothouse that was a familiar feature of classic Mississippi Riverboats.

   She also boasted another feature that was unique at the time, but which would become commonplace...she was a stern-wheeler, with her paddle-wheel located at her stern rather than having a paddle wheel mounted on either side.  Her engine and boilers...both designed by Shreve...were aft, on the main deck.  The engine was described as being an extremely simple and lightweight affair, having neither a beam (I'm assuming they mean Walking Beam) or flywheel, and weighing only 9000 pounds ('Lightweight' was obviously relative.).

She was well appointed, well crewed, and was sort of the space shuttle of her era when she was launched in mid 1816...and she was doomed to become the very first steamboat to be involved in a major accident when, on June 9th, 1816, she also became the first steamboat to suffer a boiler explosion.

She was still apparently in the testing phase at the time, and had no passengers on board when she arrived at Marietta Ohio on June 7th, with Henry Shreve and a well trained crew aboard. The Washington was the third steamboat to go in service on Western waters, making her very much a curiosity, so I have a feeling that she was made available for tours to the public. As she sat wharf-side for a day, the citizens of Marietta and environs there-of trooped to the Ohio River waterfront, crossed the gangplank to board her, and admired her lines and technology, young boys as wide-eyed with wonder as young boys two centuries later would be while touring the Space Shuttle or gazing at the SR-71 Blackbird.

Things get a little muddled as she leaves Marietta...sources note that she left Marietta on the afternoon of the 7th and made it to a town called Harmar, Ohio by the afternoon of the 8th. Problem is, there is no Harmar Ohio today, though there is a historic Harmar Village (As well as the Fort Harmar Historic Site) at the confluence of the Ohio and Muskingum Rivers, both old fort and historic village deeply inside the small city of Marietta today. Not being able to find a modern Harmar Ohio anywhere...and believe me I looked...I'm going to make the assumption that the village located at 'Historic Harmar Village' was indeed their stopping place.

The confluence of the Ohio and Muskingum Rivers today...smack dab in the middle of the city of Marietta, Ohio today, but back in 1816, Marietta was a tiny village, and the area outlined in red was the approximate location of the village of Harmar. Williamstown didn't yet exist...the then-Virginia side of the river was all woods. The current on the Ohio would have been flowing right to left (West) while the current from the Muskingum would have been pushing south, shoving the disabled Washington towards the Virginia shore. She was probably somewhere between 'Ohio River' and the river bank near present day W 3rd Street when her kedge anchor was deployed...and her boiler exploded.



 At any rate, on the afternoon of the 8th, she anchored near the Ohio shore, or possibly moored at Harmer's town dock, her black gang banked her fires, and the crew settled in for an evening of rest, relaxation, and whatever else steamboat crews might have done with their down-time in the middle of America's Heartland 200 years ago.

What happened the next morning was a true case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time for several members of her crew. Bright and early, her engine room crew lit off her fires and waited for steam pressure to build as the rest of her crew made preparations to head up-river.  Shreve was likely eager to get moving, and as soon as his chief engineer informed him they had steam up, he gave the order to cast off. The pilot probably gave a good long blast on the whistle, the lines were cast off, and the Washington eased out into the current. One problem though...they did so before her throttle was opened, therefore she wasn't under power.

The couple of articles about the disaster that I could find simply stated that 'a difficulty occurred in getting the boat into a proper position to start the machinery' without going into any real detail about said difficulty at all, so the reason she was drifting and her stern wheel wasn't thrashing the waters of the Ohio River has been lost to history. What is known, however, is that the current grabbed her and took her towards the Virginia (Now West Virginia) side of the river. Remember, if Harmar was where I think it was, they were right at the confluence of the Ohio and the Muskingum rivers, with the Muskingum dumping into the Ohio...and Washington drifting in the watery mixing bowl formed by the colliding currents of the two rivers. The current was probably turning her even as it aimed her towards any snags that might be luring just below the surface of the water along the Virginia side of the river, waiting to punch a hole in the hull of any out of control watercraft that might drift up onto them.

With thoughts of just how much damage a snag could do to Washington's wooden hull running through their heads, things likely got real busy for her crew at about that point, with lots of purposeful  fast motion, engineers accusing recalcitrant machinery of vile and despicable acts, and Shreve judging just what the current of two rivers would do to her and where it would take her without power...where ever the current took them, without power, and therefore out of control, it couldn't be good.

Shreve was right on top of it, though, and ordered a kedge anchor set off of the stern, then, after it plopped into the Ohio's muddy waters, he very likely ordered a second one readied in case the first one dragged. After a few minutes that very likely seemed like a few months, the first kedge's flukes dug into the river's muddy bottom,  and the Washington jerked to a stop, water eddying around her stern as whichever stern quarter the anchor line was off of (She was a stern wheeler, remember, so the anchor couldn't have been directly off of the stern) dipped, giving her a very slight list.

Now a kedge anchor has a very specific purpose...it's primary use is to reposition a boat by pulling the anchor line in while the anchor is set, and Shreve ordered the entire crew, with the probable exception of the boat's pilot and a couple of men in the open air engine room, to the stern so they could do just that.  I think I know what he was trying to do...not only was he trying to pull her back towards the middle of the river, he may have been trying to turn her so her bow was heading in the direction he actually wanted to go before trying to get her moving under her own power.

OK, keep in mind here, the the fire was still burning, which meant that the steam pressure was still building, and with the engine not running, there was absolutely no way...other than the safety valve...to siphon off any of that pressure. And they were completely unaware of one very vital fact...the weight that was used to set the safety valve on one of the boilers had somehow slipped to the far end of the lever that governed the valve's 'pop-off' pressure, 'gagging' it...locking it closed. So, at that point in time that boiler actually didn't have a safety valve...

...Would it surprise anyone to find out that the boiler with the defective safety valve was also the one closest to the anchor windlass?

So ten or twelve men are straining at the anchor windlass. bringing the line in, slowly inching the Washington towards the middle of the river. The river current's singing a rushing, swooshing roar as it eddies around the stern of the boat, some of it splashing up onto the deck and splattering the crew. Shreve's watching the river, gauging the boat's progress, possibly entertaining the thought of having a couple of his crew grab poles in case they were needed to swing the Washington's bow...

The majority of the crew were at the Washington's stern, most of the probably clustered around the anchor windlass, when a sudden rending, crashing 'POP!!" tore the air at the same instant the whole world turned white as all of them were suddenly immersed in a horizontal stream of high pressure, super-heated steam.  The separate sheets of iron that formed the near end of the boiler ripped apart at the seams like cloth, turning rivets into bullets and filling the scalding steam-cloud with deadly, fast moving shrapnel.

Several of the crew...including Shreve...were blown overboard, but most remained aboard after getting shredded by flying metal and parbroiled by super-heated steam.  The citizens of Harmar had heard the boiler let go and hauled freight to the water front, and several of them, thinking at first that the steamboat was on fire when they saw the roiling clouds of steam boiling off of it, launched boats and pulled hard towards the stricken craft, picking up all but one of the crew members who had been blown overboard while they were at it. One of Washington's crew was carried away by the current after being blown overboard.

The Washington rocked gently mid-stream, the line for the kedge anchor pulled taut, her hull, thanks to the boiler's location on the main deck, undamaged. Steam still rolled from the after portion of the boat, but in quickly decreasing volume, and it was becoming real obvious, real fast that the scene awaiting them on board the damaged steamboat was not going to be a pretty one...they could hear piteous moans and screams of pain while they were still a hundred or so feet from the boat.

When they reached the Washington, they found the steam-seared bodies of several men who, having been right on top of the boiler when it exploded, had been killed instantly. The injuries were literally horrible. Boiler plates had frisbeed through the crew like giant throwing stars, amputating limbs and inflicting truly horrible wounds, while the scalding super-heated steam literally cooked anyone in it's path alive, causing full body, full thickness 2nd and 3rd degree burns that weren't survivable...but left their victims to suffer hours of agony before they finally died. It's reported that one man actually offered another all of his money and worldly goods if he'd put him out of his misery.

The worst injured were gently loaded aboard a couple of the boats and taken to the town's dock, to be cared for by the town's doctor...but there wasn't anything he could do. Face it, during that era people died of things that you wouldn't even call in sick from work for today. Treatment for injuries as severe as those resulting from the explosion wouldn't exist for well over a century. All the doctor and the townspeople could do was make them as comfortable as possible, and offer compassion.

Seven people were apparently killed instantly by the explosion with another five dying later, bringing the death toll in the accident to 12... significant in any era, huge for a transportation accident in 1816. Interestingly enough, even though 17 people were either killed or injured, the Washington herself wasn't destroyed...she wasn't even that badly damaged at all.

With her engine and boilers being located aft on the main deck, it's a good bet that her after deck house was wide open. As the explosion blew the end of the boiler out. the force of the explosion was expended horizontally, the blast force and steam burst rushing aft and possibly over the stern quarters, sparing the boat's upper works. With no solid bulkheads for it to splinter, the rush of high pressure steam dissipated in the muggy summer air pretty quickly, leaving the structure of the boat itself relatively undamaged. Had she been steaming up-river, with most of her crew forward, the explosion would have been a major inconvenience, but injures would have been relatively light.

Her remaining engine room crew probably quickly banked the fires in the furnaces for the other three boilers so they wouldn't explode as well, Then, once all of the dead and injured were removed from her, her remaining crew, along with, very likely, several able bodied men from the village of Harmar, horsed her back to the town dock, probably using the two kedge anchors (pulling her up to the point where the first anchor was set, then tossing the second in the direction they wanted to pull her and making sure it was set before pulling the first one up), and using poles to position her until they could get her close enough to the dock for her mooring lines to be cast, and used to warp her along side the dock. It would have been a long, backbreaking, sweat-popping process, probably taking a day to do what, even fifteen years later, would have only taken a few minutes with another steamboat assisting her.

I'm of course assuming a lot here, the fact that Harmar had a town dock being one of those assumptions, but lets just assume that there was indeed a town dock, and that it indeed where the ill-fated Washington was moored after her boiler exploded.  Shreve and his remaining crew probably wasted no time in trying to figure out why they couldn't get the engine on line in the first place, as well as cutting the damaged boiler out of the steam supply line (All ships/steamboats with multiple boilers are designed to run with one or more of them off-line...it would require only the closing of a couple of valves) Once they got her running, and what perfunctory investigations were done were completed, they likely limped her back to Marietta for repairs to her boiler.

Speaking of 'perfunctory investigations', there had to be some kind of investigation because deaths were involved. A coroners jury would have been convened to determine cause of death as well as at least a general idea of why it happened...this is very likely how the malfunctioning safety valve was discovered and reported in the news reports of the accident. Of course, that's not the only effect the media had. While the technology was primitive, and information traveled at a snails pace if it had to go further than the town of origin, the media was, and is, still the media.

Word of the accident spread through-out the area like a wind-driven brush fire, with the story getting a little bit more gruesome with each retelling.  Twelve people dying in a single incident is news today...in 1816 it was huge, and had the very real potential to be devastating to the development of steamboat travel. If Washington was the Space Shuttle of her era, then her boiler explosion was her era's Challenger explosion, and had pretty much the same effect on steamboat development and travel on the western rivers...though much more temporarily...that the Challenger explosion had on the Space Program. The general public gave lots of thought to the dangers of steamboat travel, and seemed to be deciding that the possibility of being parbroiled in a burst of super-heated steam or cut down by flying boiler plate just might outweigh the convenience of fast travel.

Washington sat dockside for two or three months, and was probably repaired where she was moored...I'm going to make a bet that her new boiler was also built in place, the ability to transport heavy machinery over land being seriously limited to non-existent back then.

It took Washington's repair and rechristening to breath some more life into development of steamboat travel on Western waters. She was back in service by at least mid-September of 1816, and was logged as arriving in New Orleans on October 7th...one of two runs she made to New Orleans that year.

It was an 1817 trip to New Orleans that she's best known for, however...the 'Fast Trip'. She left Louisville, Ky on a March, 1817 run to New Orleans, and made the trip down-river...with the current...in six days. One of the first vollies in the legal battle between Fulton and Shreve over Fulton's legal monopoly on Riverboat travel on the lower Mississippi was fired while she was in New Orleans, BTW...a battle that Shreve would ultimately win when the courts declared the monopoly illegal, despite the fact that it was the State of Louisiana that granted it.

After this legal fire-fight was over, she departed New Orleans, this time with passengers aboard, for Louisville and made the trip upriver...traveling against the current...in just twenty-five days, tying the existing record set by the Enterprise, with a record 31 days for the round trip.

Washington continued to ply the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers for another seven years or so...she appeared regularly in the warfage books of Louisville, New Orleans, and ports in between until she just dropped out of sight after 1824 or thereabouts, apparently finally worn out.  Interestingly enough, she and Henry Shreve's George Washington...the boat she's so often confused with...were very possibly in service at the same time for just a brief  period  The George Washington was launched and went in service in 1824...the year that the Washington dropped out of sight...so it's not at all unlikely that each of their logs may note them 'Speaking'...greeting an oncoming boat with a whistle blast...the other a couple of times.



The Steamboat Enterprise's Boiler Explodes in Charleston Harbor
September 10, 1816 



Washington's boiler explosion wasn't the only fatal steamboat accident during the summer of 1816...that summer was actually book-ended by a pair of steamboat boiler explosions, and the boat that suffered the second one even had a familiar name...Enterprise.  But she wasn't the Enterprise that so famously became the first U.S. Military steamboat.  She was yet another Enterprise...a name that seems to have become popular as a name for ships both well known and obscure.

If her boiler had exploded on one of the western rivers only three or so months after Washington's boiler exploded, it could've been a major setback for development of river travel by steamboat. But Enterprise's boiler didn't explode on a Western River...it exploded in an eastern harbor. By the time the news of Enterprise's boiler explosion reached the cities and towns along the Mississippi, Washington was back in service and had made a couple of trips without mishap. Also, a couple of other steamboats were plugging away faithfully and so far at least, safely on the Mississippi and other western rivers. By the time Enterprise's boiler exploded, all was forgiven, so to speak, on the Western rivers, and things were just about back to business as usual. So, while Washington's boiler explosion caused, at most, a temporary set-back to steamboat development out west, Enterprise's boiler explosion had little effect at all.

In fact, if it hadn't been for the afore-mentioned boiler explosion, this particular Enterprise would have likely faded into history after several years of of service, which is what happened to the very great majority of steamboats. As it is, all we really know about her is that she shared a name with her far better known contemporary on the Mississippi, and that she suffered the second fatal boiler explosion on a working steamboat.  We can make a few assumptions about her though. Being in service on the east coast...and on a harbor rather than a river at that...she was probably a deep draft vessel, much closer in configuration to Fulton's North River than to Shreve's Washington. and we can safely assume that she very likely wasn't a small boat. Oh, she wasn't huge, but she was big enough to have a deck-house that could accommodate at least 70-100 people.

We also know that at about 9 PM on the evening of September 9th, 1816, Charleston, South Carolina was experiencing one of those gully-washer thunderstorms that are pretty much part of everyday life during the summer in the south. Enterprise had just pulled away from her dock on Sullivan's Island, likely located on the east side of the 'L' shaped islands 'hook' (See the map below.). Her just-boarded passengers...all men, from the source I found...wasted no time at all crowding into the deck house to escape the rain thundering onto Enterprise's wooden deck.

Her captain called for all ahead a quarter or so as she eased away from the dock (Through a speaking tube...engine room telegraphs were still a half century or more in the future) and the paddle wheel buckets (She was probably a side wheeler) started splashing into the water of Charleston Harbor as her pilot, captain, and everyone else in her pilothouse peered through the curtain of rain that was hiding anything over 100 yards or so away from view. Sullivan's Island slowly receded astern as her captain and helmsman started working her into the narrow channel that would take her around the tip of the Hook and into Charleston Harbor itself. A few of her braver passengers stayed on deck to...what? Experience the wonders of nature in a full-fledged tantrum?


Civil War era map of Charleston Harbor and Sullivan's Island...the earliest one I could find. The red 'X' denotes the area where I think that Enterprise was when her boiler exploded, based on nothing more than the fact that all of the development on Sullivan's Island was on that hooked west end of the island until well into the 20th century, and the fact that Sullivan's Island is located right at the entrance of Charleston Harbor and exposed to any seas that a storm might throw at them.  That 'hook' creates a sheltered 'mini-harbor' on the east side of the hook, sheltering that side of the island from the afore-mentioned Atlantic storms.


Now if you've ever experienced one of these southern thunder-boomers, you know what I'm talking about.  It was raining so hard that rain-roar just about drowned out any and all other sound. Lightning was giving their passengers a fireworks display that the Fourth of July could take notes on, and thunder was an all but constant booming roar., It was likely not a fun night to be on the water. I don't know about you guys, but I wouldn't have been out on deck.

And as noted most of her passengers were of the same opinion...and that, along with the constant roar and boom of the storm is probably why most of them didn't even hear the explosion when it happened. Enterprise hadn't made it more than 100 yards from the dock when one of her boilers exploded, and from the sounds of it, this one didn't just blow it's end plate off...this one came apart violently. It was apparently also located on the main deck, because boiler plate scythed through the crowd like murderous frisbees even as scalding steam engulfed the deck of the steamship...and everyone on the deck.

The only thing those in the cabin heard was a sudden loud hiss of escaping steam (Probably the relief valves of the other boilers as the surviving members of the 'Black Gang,' as steam boat//ship engine room crews have been called since time immortal, opened them up to prevent her other boilers from exploding. The passengers in Enterprise's cabin may not have realized that catastrophe had just jumped aboard with them, but everyone on the Black Gang, along with the passengers who'd been on deck,...at least those who'd survived...knew something had happened, and that it wasn't good.

Her Captain...identified only as Captain Howard... also realized something bad had just happened, and very likely immediately called for all stop, and for her anchor to be dropped so she wouldn't drift. Then, as the engine room crew both banked fires and manually opened the other boilers' safety valves he began accessing both damage to his vessel, and injuries to his crew. It wasn't good. Whatever portion of her deckhouse  had housed her engines and boiler was now a splintered shambles, and bodies, both injured and dead, littered the deck. He had several small fires burning, where burning wood from the boiler's furnace had been scattered, but the rain was taking care of that problem. On the plus side, her hull wasn't damaged and she wasn't taking on water.

And, just as had happened with the Washington, people on shore had either heard or seen the explosion...the sudden cataclysmic burst of steam, at any rate...and boats were even then pulling towards her. They found a similar scene to that found by the townspeople who'd rowed to Washington's aid.

Grievously scalded men were lying all over the deck, many burned over 75-100 percent of their bodies, injuries that probably wouldn't be survivable today, much less two centuries ago. Others had the same type of horrible injuries inflicted by flying shrapnel that those on board Washington had suffered. At least now we can provide pain relief to the mortally injured...Two centuries ago, all rescuers could do was provide compassion.

Again, as had happened when Washington's boiler had exploded, the injured...a well as the survivors...were loaded onto boats and taken back to Sullivan's Island. When it was all over with,  eight men...probably including most of the engine room crew...were killed instantly, and at least four others were burned so badly that they very likely died later.

There was no more information available about this one...not even the names of the victims...other than an interesting bit of argument over the cause. One group stated that they saw lightning strike the vessel's smokestack the instant that her boiler exploded, and that this lightning strike was obviously what cased her boiler to come apart so spectacularly, while another group stated that her engine room crew used salt water in her boilers rather than fresh water, and that the corrosive effect of salt water, over time, ultimately weakened the ill-fated boiler to the point that it could no longer contain it's normal operating pressure.  The second one sounds far, far more plausible than the first, IMHO.

I have a feeling, though, that general lack of proper maintenance along with possibly letting the water get too low in the boiler had a lot more to do with it.

Beyond that, nothing more is known about the incident, or the fate of the Enterprise, but if her hull was indeed undamaged, it's not at all unlikely that, like the Washington, she was repaired and put back in service.


The Steamboat Constitution's Boiler Explodes On The Mississippi
Pointe Coupee, Louisiana
May, 1817 



People have a tendency to panic...we all know this. All of us have done it. Usually, though, it's a harmless and temporary panic, like that sudden empty feeling that you get when you go to pay for gas/restaurant check/groceries and realize that your wallet's at home on your desk or dresser. All that results is some inconvenience and embarrassment, and the only thing injured is pride.

BUT...put the average person...or worse, your average group of people...in the middle of a sudden life-threatening situation, or what they perceive to be a life threatening situation and suddenly that panic become just as deadly or deadlier than the situation itself.

This has been proven time and time again, It increased the death toll in just about every major loss of life fire or marine disaster ever recorded, and one of the first blatant examples of this unfortunate flaw of human nature just may have also been the third of our boiler explosions, which was also the first boiler explosion on the lower Mississippi...the explosion of the Steamboat Constitution.

I could find very little info about the Constitution other than than the fact that she was a fairly small steamer and was built and launched as the Oliver Evans a year or so before the boiler explosion. I have a feeling that, as she was renamed, she apparently also changed hands during that year. She was also said to be 'One of the finest boats on the Mississippi River'.

We do know that, on May 4th, 1817, she was enroute from Natchez to New Orleans and was rounding the bend that curled around a point of land known as Pointe Coupee, when her boiler exploded loudly.

The Constitution was just rounding Pointe Coupee, in the upper center of the image, when her boiler exploded.  This area is pretty rural today. Imagine how desolate it was two hundred years ago. Also note False River...the oxbow lake in the center of the image. This is a former channel bypassed by the Mississippi centuries ago when then river changed course. There are a slew of these oxbow lakes along Old Man River's course, but False River is probably the largest and best known.


The by then all too familiar rush of super-heated steam and deadly blizzard of flying rivets and boilerplate ripped through and enshrouded anyone who may have been on deck, killing as many as eleven people instantly, but it's what several of her other passengers did that lends credence to the theory that some of the deaths caused by the explosion were actually caused by panic.

Several of her passengers, feeling the violent shudder that vibrated the whole boat like a tuning fork and hearing the earsplitting metallic 'POP!!" of the boiler letting go, spilled out on deck, spotted the clouds of steam rolling out of her midsection, and, possibly assuming she was on fire, dived into the river and were promptly caught in the current and carried off, a couple of them never to be seen again. The ability to swim was not a common skill in the early 1800s.

The injuries on board the Constitution paralleled those on board Washington and Enterprise... horrible, full-body burn injuries that, while unsurvivable, left their victims conscious and in agony for hours before they finally died, as well as massive injuries inflicted by pieces of the boiler that spun through the passengers and crew who were on deck, sharp edges ripping and tearing through flesh as they did so.

News articles of the day also described one man who was found on deck with both an arm and leg torn away by flying boiler plate, and a young girl who hung on for three agonizing hours before passing away. All in all, the death toll was at least twelve and possibly as high as twenty-five, with thirty total deaths and injuries...the highest yet to be caused by a boiler explosion.

Constitution was probably worse off than either Washington or  Enterprise simply because she wasn't near a population center of any size when her her boiler exploded...and here's where I'm going to have to really speculate a bit. If she had multiple boilers (And most steamboats did) it's possible that her captain, Captain Bezeau had the remainder of the black gang cut the damaged boiler out of the system and limp her to the nearest town...probably Baton Rouge. It's even possible that they let the river carry them down stream.

Problem was, when she got there, even when doctors arrived at dockside, there wasn't anything they could do for the gravely injured passengers and crew members...technique and technology to effectively treat massive injuries of that nature, or even provide any relief from pain, just didn't exist back then and wouldn't exist for well over a century...closer, in fact, to a century and a half.

Like Washington, and very possibly Enterprise as well, the Constitution's hull was undamaged, and she was repaired fairly quickly, with passage on her being advertised by mid-July of 1817...she was very likely the very same Constitution mentioned in several sources as the second steamboat on the Missouri River, in October of 1817...five months after the explosion.
 

**********************Fire/EMS Response 2016 v/s 1816****************************

Lets make a quick comparison of  fire/EMS capabilities in all three communities today vs what was available 200 years ago.

If a comparable incident...say an explosion and/or fire aboard a tour boat with multiple major burn injuries...happened today in either Marietta, Ohio or Charleston, S.C. you would have needed traffic control to keep the responding Emergency Services watercraft from getting in each others way. Fire and P.D. in both localities have specialized marine divisions as well as top-notch EMS systems (Fire-department based in Marietta, separate agency in Charleston), and Level One trauma care and burn centers are a quick ambulance ride or helicopter ride away, with aggressive prehospital advanced life support trauma care being administered enroute.

Then we have Point Coupee Parish in Louisiana, protected by a well trained, well equipped combination department (Primarily volunteer with a few salaried firefighters) as well as an equally well equipped and trained police department. With the Mississippi providing much of the parish's western boundary, and with a busy commercial port with-in the parish (Same, BTW, as a county in every other state) you can bet that fire and P.D have some heavy duty marine response capability, as well as having the Coast Guard available (Yes...they do also respond on inland waterways) should there be an explosion on a towboat or a container ship resulting in major injuries. Baton Rouge...35 miles away by ground, ten or so minutes away on 'The Bird' 'as the crow or 'copter flies...has a very highly respected regional burn center.

Even though Marietta's and Pointe Coupee Parish's capabilities are a bit more limited than Charleston's (Marietta has about 15,000 residents today, and Pointe Coupee Parish boasts around
 22,000 residents compared to Charleston's population of around 120,000), the response to a boat explosion with multiple major injuries in any of the three communities today is an entire universe away from the capabilities available in 1816/17.

In short, in 1816/17 there were no emergency response capabilities. Charleston didn't have a fire department until 1819, Marietta's was first organized in 1825, and Pointe Coupee Parish didn't see fire protection until the early to mid 20th century. Marine response capability came decades later. Meaningful pre-hospital trauma care wasn't available nationwide until the early 1970s.

In-hospital medical care was severely lacking in the early 1800s. On-scene care consisted of citizens, and maybe a doctor or two attempting to comfort mortally injured patients as they lay dying in agony.

There was literally nothing that could be done for them. Makes you even more thankful for the fire/EMS resources we have available today, even though we pray diligently we'll never need them.


***********************Notes And Links And Stuff**********************


The little pocket history of the steamboat I kicked this one off with is in no way even vaguely complete...I just tried to hit the relevant high points. A full and complete history of the steamboat would require a big book (And in fact a couple of them have been written over the last couple of centuries...I'll include a couple of titles down in 'Links').

And speakin' of a couple of centuries...I hope I managed to make this one just a little bit informative and interesting even though the well was pretty dry, information-wise when I started researching the three boiler explosions. I threw every possible combination of (Steamboat Name) and Boiler Explosion I could think of into the ol' Google-Machine, and the only one of the three steamboats that I could find even a minimal amount of actual info on was the Washington. I can thank Henry Shreve for that...if she hadn't been associated with him, she'd have been just as obscure as the other two. 

Meanwhile, just about ALL of the info I found about the boiler explosions themselves was gleaned from ancient newspaper articles and some passages from ' Lloyd's Steamboat Directory And Disasters On Western Waters'...a book written in 1856 that detailed life on the river and listed every steamboat accident of any kind on the western rivers up to that point (Spoiler alert...there were a bunch of 'em). And almost all of these bits and pieces were gleaned from the genealogy site I use for research.  There were actually a good number of hits on all three BTW...they just repeated the text of the exact same three excerpts from 'Lloyds...'

Though part of me was hoping there'd be a little bit more info out there, this time the lack of info didn't really surprise me...lets be honest here, these events took place just about exactly 200 years ago as I'm writing this. There was no I.C.C. or NTSB, no Coast Guard, no regulatory agencies at all concerning themselves with steamboats or traffic on inland waterways. No regulatory agencies means that record keeping was, at best, a maybe kinda thing, and that records were, at best, sparse. Needless to say, most of the records on those first accidents and disasters involving steamboats that were written down back then are long lost to history.  

So, with that little disclaimer out of the way...hope you guys enjoyed it anyway. On to the notes!


<***>

Remember me saying that I didn't even come close to relating the entire history of steamboat development?  Make a guess just how many early inventors actually got a functioning steamboat on the water before Fulton's 'North River' AKA Clermont became the first commercially successful steamboat.   Better yet...take a look at this list:

1763 William Henry. (Lancaster, PA).  
Some say he actually invented the steamboat. Began experimenting with steam engine-propelled boats on the Conestoga River, in PA. in 1763. Oh...yeah...one of his neighbors was a 12 year old kid named Robert Fulton. Sadly, there's almost no info out there on the boat herself, though I did find out it was a model rather than a full size, man-carrying vessel,,,and that it sank.

1774 Perier Freries. (experiments on the Seine River, France).
Supposedly experimented with a steamboat on the Seine, near PAris, in1774. 


1782 Marquis de Jouffroy d' Abbans. Saone River, France.
Vessel ran for about 15 minutes before the bottom gave way. This one had some potential. She was powered by a single cylinder, double acting steam engine, and was a sidewheeler. Her engine wasn't her downfall...her hull construction was. The boat started breaking up under the pounding of the engine...but not before managing 6 MPH upstream, against the current at that.


1787 James Rumsey. (Shepherdstown, West Virginia). Potomoc River.
"Jet" propulsion engine averaging 2-4 mph. Ran continuously for about
two hours on first trip. Second trip averaged 4 mph. Steam engine powered a pump that discharged through a nozzle beneath the waterline at the stern...making her the first jet-boat!

1787 John Fitch. (paddles along the side of vessel). 3-4 mph.
Yes, she was propelled by steam-powered oars!

1787 John Fitch. (second vessel PERSEVERANCE).
This one's described above

1789 William Symington. (Miller Estate, Scotland). 5 mph.

1790 William Symington. (Forth & Clyde Canals) 6-7 mph
William Symington built a couple of steamboats...the first could arguably be called the first powered pleasure boat, but was only run once or twice on supposedly successful trial runs. He also built a couple of steam-powered tug boats for the Forth and Clyde canal that were demonstrated successfully, actually towing a pair of barges, but weren't accepted for purchase.

1790 John Fitch. Vessel THORNTON. Made 7 mph in service between
Burlington, Bristol, Bordentown and Trenton. Accommodated excursions
out of Wilmington, Gray's Ferry and Chester. Made between 2,000-
3,000 miles without a serious accident. First steamboat in commercial service, described above. He was also awarded the patent for steamboats in August of 1790.


1790 Samuel Morey. Experiments on the Connecticut River.
This is the guy who gets credit for inventing the paddlewheel, even though Symmington came up with the same concept in France the same year.. Morey built a couple of successfull demonstrated steamboats...all sidewheelers...and almost had the second steamboat in commercial service, but his backing fell through.

Morey, BTW, also developed one of the very first internal combustion engines, powered by turpentine, and actually installed it successfully on a wagon. That's right...the first engine powered truck. Unfortunately the vehicle was wrecked on it's first run, and the invention was not taken seriously.


1792 Elijah Ormsbee. Vessel using atmospheric engine and duck-foot
paddles at Windsor's Cove, Narragansett Bay. 3 mph.
Ormsbee's boat was reportedly actually a pretty successful little craft, and he ran her back and forth for most of a summer...but didn't have the funds for further development.


1793 Samuel Morey. Stern-wheel powered steam vessel. Ran Hartford
to New York in 1794. 5 mph.

Remember this guy? He also built a pretty successful stern-wheeler.

1796 John Fitch. Screw-propeller steam vessel.
Way ahead of it's time, and not well accepted

1796 Griffin Green. Built a boat with steam engine. Went bankrupt before
completed.

1797 Samuel Morey. Sidewheel -powered steam vessel.

1803 William Symington. Clyde & Forth Canals (Scotland). 19 1/2 miles
in 6 hours.

1804 Capt. James McKeever and Louis Valcourt. Kentucky. Engine and boiler
by Oliver Evans. Engines: 9" x 36". Flue-type boiler: 42" diameter.
Taken to New Orleans and abandoned. Almost beat Bob Fulton to the punch with a successful steamboat. The only reason she was abandoned was because a hurricane damaged her beyond repair.

1804 Robert Fulton. (France) Seine River steamboat trial. 3-4 mph.
 That's right...Fulton experimented in France before he built the North River in the U.S.

1804 Robert L. Stevens. Steam vessel. Screw propeller. Engine: 10" x 24".
Boiler: 50 lbs. pressure. Ran New York to Hoboken. First really successful screw-propelled steamer. She was only 32 feet long,

1807 Robert Fulton. First commercially successful steam -powered vessel.
NOTH RIVER STEAMBOAT. Side paddlewheels. New York to Albany
(150 miles) in 32 hours (5 mph).

1808 John Stevens. (Philadelphia). Vessel PHENIX. First steamboat to
navigate the ocean. Perth Amboy to Paulus Hook (30 miles at 5+ mph). She was screw-propelled, BTW. became the second commercially successful steamboat.

John was Robert Stevens' Dad. This father-son team developed many improvements and such for steamboats. The double ended ferryboat? Yeah, they invented that, too!

So, yeah...the development of the steamboat was pretty much a long-term on-going effort. Robert Fulton basically took a bunch of already-invented devices and already developed ideas, improved on them, and put them all together to build what would become the worlds first commercially successful steamboat.

<***>

Robert Fulton's New Orleans may have been the first steamboat in service on the Western rivers, but she was almost beaten to the punch. Not only was New Orleans almost beaten to the punch, but Fulton's North River, AKA Clermont was almost the second successful steamboat rather than the first. And had that happened, the first successful steamboat would have been churning through the muddy waters of the Mississippi, in New Orleans, three years before the North River's paddle wheels even made their first revolution.

She was designed by James McKeever and Louis Valcourt, utilizing a high pressure steam engine and boiler designed by Oliver Evans. She was about 80 feet long with a beam of 18 feet, and was apparently fairly shallow draft. Evans' engine developed about 150 horsepower.

The engine was built in Philadelphia, and shipped around the Florida peninsula and through the Gulf of Mexico to New Orleans, and was actually installed on the steamboat...but she was never even tested. One of the Whirly-Girls of late summer/early fall, un-named back then, came blowing and blustering in, shoving the Gulf far up the Mississippi in a storm surge, and taking the also unnamed steamboat with it, depositing her a half mile inland, high and dry. 

There was absolutely no practical way to refloat her, so her steam engine was sold to the owner of a local sawmill, where it was used very successfully. The hull of the steamboat was apparently broken up on-site

And three years later, Bob Fulton's North River got all the glory.

<***>

Those of us from a certain era remember mimeographed tests...you know, those blue tinted tests whose copies were 'run off' on a beast of an office machine featuring a big cylindrical hand cranked drum, and a sharp, solvent odor that wasn't at all unpleasant, other than the fact that it was so readily associated with tests and exams. 

Guess who came up with this basic process...none other than James Watt, in 1780. His duplicating machine copied a written document by pressure onto thin, translucent, unsized paper, producing a reversed copy from the back...the exact same basic principal used to make copies right on up to about the mid or late 1970s, when modern photocopiers took over.

<***>  

Just to show how much they appreciated Henry Shreve's contributions to inland navigation, when a group of people decided to put up a new town on the Red River in 1836, they named it after him.

I'm talking about the city of Shreveport, Louisiana, of course.

 <***>

Even though Henry Shreve survived the Washington's boiler explosion, the first version of the news, passed throughout the Ohio River Valley via word of mouth in the days immediately after the explosion, reported that he, too, was among the dead.  This was quickly refuted, of course, but that didn't stop someone from coming up with a pretty good ghost story starring the very much alive Mr Shreve himself.  

According to this ghostly tale, Shreve was seen piloting a phantom steamboat along the Ohio River, sounding the whistle and warning all who happened upon him of a coming catastrophe about to occur near the confluence of the Ohio and Muskingum rivers.

This story was told throughout the Ohio River Valley for years,  making Henry Shreve one of the few living souls...if not the only living soul...to star in their own ghost story. 

 <***>

Remember the 1909 replica of Fulton's North River AKA Clermont? Seems that as the Hudson-Fulton festival got under way, she was involved in her own minor incident. The festival also included a replica of Henry Hudson's ship, the Half Moon...and it seems that, as the giant flotilla of ships, boats, and other water craft started their journey up the Hudson, the helmsman of the Half Moon replica lost control of her just long enough to accidentally ram the Clermont replica, Damage was minor, and there were no injuries, just a few red faces. A well placed and alert photographer managed to grab a shot of the two replicas at or just after the point of impact...see below.



 <***>

Fulton's New Orleans didn't enjoy a long lasting career, either...in fact she didn't last as long as any of the three boats featured in this post.

New Orleans  struck a snag near Baton Rouge on July 14th, 1814, making her not only the first steamboat on the Mississippi, but very likely the first to sink on the Mississippi. Thankfully no injuries or deaths resulted from her sinking.

She also kind of set the stage for the careers of the great majority of Mississippi River steamboats, especially the earlier ones...they were not a long-lived breed of vessel. The average steamboat enjoyed a career of under five years before it either burned, suffered a boiler explosion, or sank.

 <***> 

Boiler explosions were way up in the top three or so causes of steamboat accidents, especially during their early days, and they could come in several forms, with several potential causes...but there were two biggies.

The Washington's boiler exploded due to a faulty safety valve...but it wasn't always the safety valve itself that was the problem. It was sometimes the crew actually disabling the safety valve, especially as time passed, and steamboats became more elaborate, powerful, and faster, Trophies, business, and bragging rights were awarded for speed...the faster a steamboat was, the more publicity she received, the more publicity she received, the more business she got, and the more business she got, the more money she made. The more money she made, the more money available to be divided among her crew.

Steamboat races were not uncommon, and it was just as common for crews to soak wood in pitch and lamp oil (What we call kerosene today) to make the fire hotter, then gag the safety valve so the steam pressure would go off the chart, giving them more speed. The very obvious downside to this practice was, of course, the fact that it made the safety valve useless, causing more than a few boiler explosions when the crew's quest for speed pushed the steam pressure to a level that the boiler wasn't designed to handle.

Probably the biggest cause of all, though, was also the simplest and easiest to avoid...letting the water get too low in the boiler.

Wait, you ask. Wouldn't that just stop steam production (And the steamboat) and actually make the danger of an explosion diminish.

I can see where you're going with that, but in a word, no.

Adding water to  boiler when the water level gets a little low isn't an issue.  That, in fact, is exactly what feedwater pumps are designed to do. The problem...and explosion...comes when you let the water get way too low, then dump cold water onto bare metal that had been superheated by the fire in the boiler's furnace (Or firebox). See, if you dump cold water onto super-heated metal, that metal is going to rip apart like paper tearing because it suddenly contracts on the cooled (Water) side, but not on the heated (Fire) side. And this, in a nutshell, was the cause of a huge percentage of early boiler explosions.  The water in the boiler would get too low, the engineer would add water, which would contact the super-heated metal directly, and the boiler would, basically, pop like a balloon.

What made this an even bigger and more dangerous problem in the early days of steam propulsion was the fact that there was no water-level gauge of any kind.  None...the engineer had to gauge the water-level by listening to the sound made by the boiling water. Of course, every boiler was a little different and something as simple as a head cold could affect the engineer's hearing enough to cause him to over-estimate the water level. Then there was the fact that they drew water directly from the river to fill the boiler. River water is filled with silt that would leave a nice sound deadening layer of mud on the inside of the boiler, making the sound of boiling water harder to decipher. On top of this, steamboat engine rooms were not particularly quiet places in the first place, so our Chief Engineer had a job ahead of him guessing the water level based on sound alone. Too often, he guessed wrong.

Then when gauges...first gauge cocks, then sight glasses...were introduced, the fact that the western rivers were so muddy, and that the feedwater for the boilers was drawn directly from the river again created a problem. It would plug the guagecocks, making them useless...then when sight glasses replaced guage cocks, the same mud would both plug them and coat the inside of the sight glass, making it difficult, and sometimes impossible, to read.

Of course there's no way to be absolutely sure, but I'd almost lay bets on the other two early boiler explosions...those of Enterprise and  Constitution...being caused by low water in the boiler. 


<***> LINKS<***>


There was way more info available about the guys who developed the steamboat than there was about the three boiler explosions I featured here, therefore there are way more links leading to info about them and their steamboats out there...I tried to grab a few of the best and most interesting ones.


http://www.farmcollector.com/equipment/jet-powered-boat-zmlz14febzbea.aspx Rumsey's jet boat
James Rumsey's steam powered jet-boat

http://www.wonderfulwv.com/SiteCollectionDocuments/Archive/Jul2014-2.pdf   Another decent article about Rumsey's boat. This is in PDF format, so you'll need a PDF viewer to read it.

http://www.craven-hall.org/fitch-steamboat-museum/  John Fitch Steamboat Museum's site

http://www.steamboats.org/forum/steamboats-history/4066-mississippi-river-steamboat-built-1802-a-2.html  Steamboats.com forum thread about the steamboat that almost beat Bob Fulton to the punch getting a commercially successful steamboat in service. here's a lot of extremely interesting info in the thread.

https://books.google.com/books?id=vZZIAQAAIAAJ&pg=PA329&hl=en#v=onepage&q&f=true
Article about Fulton's North River as well as the 1909 replica from the September 1909 issue of  International Marine Engineering. There are, BTW, several other interesting articles in the issue...if you have an interest in the ships and maritime history, don't start reading unless you've got plenty of time!

https://archive.org/details/lloydssteamboatd00lloy  The full text of  Lloyd's Steamboat Directory And Disasters On Western Waters.
 
http://genealogytrails.com/ark/greene/SteamboatDisasters.htm  A comprehensive listing of steamboat disasters and accidents on the western rivers.







 

Tuesday, July 5, 2016

The Ghostly Children of San Antonio, Texas

The Ghostly Children of San Antonio, Texas
The Most Famous Bus Crash That Never Happened





After eighteen or so months of researching and writing and proofreading, and rewriting schoolbus-train crash posts I've decided that it's finally almost time to put them to rest...but I can't quite do so just yet because, ya see, there's one more bus-train crash story to tell.  And this won't be just any post about just any accident, either. See, this one has it's very own ghost. Ten of 'em, in fact. And these aren't just any ol' ghosts either. This ghostly crew's story has become what's arguably the most famous ghost story in Texas.
 
We're heading for the south-central part of The Lone Star State for this one, and our destination's a quaint little burg that's home to around 1.4 million people, some of the best Mexican food anywhere north of the border, and a building all of you may have heard of known as 'The Alamo'.  I'm talking, of course, about the lovely and historic city of San Antonio, Texas.

We're going to ignore San Antonio's better known historic sites, as well as...very reluctantly...it's multitude of awesome Mexican restaurants as we bypass the city's more populated areas and head for a 90 degree curve on a back road in the more sparsely settled far south-eastern corner of the city. The curve in question is the one where Villamain Road, which runs parallel to a still active spur of the Union Pacific Railroad for a half mile or so, heaves itself around 90 degrees to the left to become Shane Road, crossing the U.P.tracks while it's at it...the very crossing where what would become Texas' most famous ghost story took root.

If you've read the rest of my Bus-Train crash posts, the gist of the story's a familiar one. A school bus with ten Catholic elementary school kids aboard was on Shane Road sometime after sun-down, heading towards Villamain Road enroute home from a field trip, when the bus engine decided to die at the very instant that they rolled onto the crossing. According to the story, all of the kids, exhausted from their day-long field trip, were asleep. The nun who was driving the bus, figuring that the engine would fire right back up, decided to let the kids sleep as she tried to start the bus. I mean, it'd probably start right back up, right?

Of course, as the story goes, it didn't. She'd cranked it a couple of times without success when the headlight of an approaching train suddenly appeared from around a curve. She tried desperately to crank the bus one more time as the engineer of the train spotted the bus sitting across the tracks and went sweaty-pale and wide-eyed as he yanked his brakes into emergency and laid down on the whistle, sending it's mournful wail across the countryside as steel wheels screed against steel rails.

The locomotive slammed into the bus broadside, ripping it in two and sending the front half of the bus spinning off of the tracks while dragging the rear half for a couple of hundred yards before tossing it aside, on the opposite side of the tracks, as the train slid to a stop. All ten of the children who were aboard the bus are supposed to have lost their lives in the accident.

The driver was uninjured, but devastated by the deaths, holding herself entirely responsible. As time passed she became more and more despondent until she finally decided to take her own life. And she wasn't going to do so using just any method...she decided to drive her personal car to the very crossing where the accident occurred, and park across the tracks, waiting for a train to happen by and end it all...

...So, on a dark, moonless night several months after the accident she tried to do just that. She parked near the crossing, waited until she heard a train coming, then pulled forward, across the tracks, and composed herself, awaiting her fate...and that's when things got more than a little strange.

She felt her car start rocking, then heard little kid voices encouraging each other, and then the car started to move, rolling uphill towards Villamain Road. The nun looked behind her, out of the car's rear window, but saw nothing but the empty, dark roadway behind her. The headlight of the train hove into view...just as it had on the night of the bus crash....and the engineer laid down on the whistle as the car slowly bumped across the rails, then rolled clear of the crossing, coming to a stop a few feet away from the tracks as the train thundered past. The nun sat there in shock for several minutes...long enough for the train to clear the crossing...then got out and looked around, likely more than half expecting to see the children who she'd heard talking standing around on the side of the road, but she saw no one. She walked around behind the car, still looking for the kids, but, of course, they weren't there. 

She did find something, though. The rear most part of the trunk lid, as well as the back bumper, was covered with hand prints...small, child sized hand prints. She counted, and came up with twenty hands...meaning ten children. The same number who'd been aboard her ill-fated bus. Obviously ten little angels had been dispatched to save her. She immediately decided that she had been saved for a reason, and told this story widely in the weeks afterwards.

True believers in The Ghostly Children will tell you...enthusiastically...that several of the people she told of this amazing occurrence rode out to the crossing to check it out for themselves and also noted the exact same phenomenon.  If they stopped on or just short of the tracks, they'd first feel their car rock gently and start moving, then hear the voices of the children, then, once they were clear of the crossing, see the hand prints on the trunk. More then one person noted that Shane Road actually...and we're gonna say apparently...climbed a very gentle hill as it approached the tracks. Just a very very subtle upgrade, but, we have to assume, enough of one to keep a car from rolling across the tracks on its own. (Keep this point in mind!)

And thus, a ghost story was born! And lets be honest here...there are very few better settings for a railroad-crossing-based ghost story than Shane and Villamain Rds. The area immediately surrounding the crossing is about as desolate as you can get and still be within the boundaries of a major city. OK, never mind the fact that, today, I-410 is under a quarter mile north of the crossing and a drive of a half mile or so in any direction will land you smack dab in the middle of modern suburban life...the crossing itself is surrounded by woods. It looks pretty desolate at noon on a bright, sunny day, so at, say, midnight on, say, Halloween night, it'd be a ghost-hunters dream come true.

A few tens of thousands of people have apparently agreed with that assessment over the last few decades. Over the several decades, the story...however it may have come to be... spread  first throughout the state, then throughout the country, until taking a trip to San Antonio to check out The Story of the Ghostly Children very much became a 'Thing'. The coming of The Internet only threw even more fuel on the ghost-child flames, spreading the story nationally and internationally to the point that at certain times of the year...I'm looking at you, Halloween...there were very literal traffic jams on narrow Shane Road as hundreds of travelers...from car loads of high school and college kids, to families, to professional ghost hunters...showed up to check out the Ghostly Children.

Whether they showed up singly or in groups, they all used the same basic procedure to check for the presence or absence of Ghost Children, almost as if it had been written down in an S.O.P. manual. First, they'd look up Shane Road towards the crossing, and note that the road did indeed appear to run subtly uphill towards the tracks. Then, if they were really prepared, they'd liberally sprinkle baby powder or talcum powder over the trunk and bumper...the better to reveal any ghostly hand prints that our tiny poltergeist might leave behind. Then they'd climb back in their ride, drive to the crossing (Again, depending on the time of year and possibly the weather, often having to wait in line), park either on or just short of the crossing, pop the transmission into neutral, and wait. And, sure 'nuff, the car would ultimately start moving, rolling towards the curve where Shane Road became Villamain Road, tires bumping subtly as they hit the rail-heads, until the car was safely clear of the tracks.

Then everyone would get back out of the vehicle, walk around to the rear, and gaze at the trunk and back bumper as if they were paying solemn respect to some unnamed idol. More often than not, eyes and mouths would both go wide in wonder and astonishment as they spotted hand prints and finger prints on the metal.


Hand prints supposedly left by 'The Ghostly Children'. I don't count but seven sets of hand prints...three of the Ghost-Kids must've been supervising on this one. 


Now, I don't know if anyone counted hand-prints and came up with the twenty hands that would mean all ten ghost-kids were pushing, or if they just 'oohed and aahed' at the very existence of said hand prints, but the hand prints were, in most cases, indeed there.

So many amateur ghost-hunters and curiosity-seekers have been inspired to check out The Ghostly Children that San Antonio P.D would occasionally have to get involved, due to both traffic issues and other less-than-legal activities. I have a feeling that more than a few cans of beer have been emptied on the road side and more than just a few underage drinking tickets have been given out.

...And yet, even with long, long lines, shady individuals of the non-ghostly variety lurking about, and the risk of tickets and the loss of  their favorite Refreshing Golden Beverages, the people still came, in huge numbers...singly and in groups. TV shows were filmed, parties were had, and pictures and videos were taken...and that, my friends, is how The Legend of The Ghost Children of San Antonio became the most famous ghost Story in Tex...

<***>

Stop Right There!!! 

...Come on gang...you really didn't think this was the end of the story did ya. What about the accident that created the legend?? Where, you may ask, is the in-depth analysis? The speculation? The discussion on emergency response?? Something a few of you may be thinking, is fishy here. And to that I reply...you're absolutely right!

You see, while thousands upon thousands of ghost seekers have, and still do, journey to Shane and Villamain annually to check out The Ghostly Children, the story they're chasing just doesn't hold up. 

Try something. Go to Google, and plug 'San Antonio Bus-Train crash' in. Search away. And yes, a slew of results pop up...all of them stories of the Ghost Children. None of them, however...as in Not. A. Single. One...reference any specific accident in the state of Texas, much less one in San Antonio or at that particular San Antonio grade crossing. 

You guys, BTW, aren't even close to being the first people who've discovered this little anomaly while searching for this apparently very elusive train crash. And Google isn't even vaguely the only place info about said accident is missing from.

First lets talk about the long time residents of San Antonio. The accident at Shane and Villamain supposedly happened in the late Thirties, so even people who were first or second graders at the time would be in their early to mid eighties if they're till around. There probably aren't many of them left, and fewer of them are around with each passing year. So, while finding a San Antonio born octogenarian who could confirm or deny that the accident happened, first hand, isn't an absolute impossibility, it's becoming more difficult by the day. As with any city, however, there are younger lifelong and long-time San Antonio residents who've made recording the history of their town a beloved and dedicated hobby, so we can just ask one of them about the accident..

With that fact in mind, go to San Antonio and ask some of the city fathers who to ask about their city's history...you know, not just the stuff that's in history books, but the little fascinating details of local history that you really have to dig for. Trust me, they'll know exactly who to refer you to.

Next, go find a one of these amateur historians and ask them about the tragic bus-train crash at Shane and Villamain.  They will then, while very likely giving you one of those looks that just freaking screams 'Oh, God, not another one' , very quickly tell you that they've never heard of a bus-train accident...an actual bus-train accident as opposed to the mythical variety...at that crossing because no such accident ever happened there, or anywhere else in San Antonio or even Texas, in the first place.

Then our historian will go on to point out one very strong bit of speculation and several very relevant facts that absolutely prove that the accident never happened.

First the speculation...if there had been ten kids killed in a bus crash in San Antonio, there would be some memory of it. These kids were supposedly on the way back into town, which means they lived in San Antonio, which means they would have had relatives their own age or younger who would have grown up and passed the story about Aunt Mary or Uncle Jimmy or Cousin Bob being killed in that horrible bus accident in San Antonio down to their own kids. 

Guess what gang. Nada. No one living who now lives or has ever lived in San Antonio can recall any stories passed down by relatives or friends about siblings or kinfolk dying in a train-school bus crash in San Antonio. Anywhere in or even near San Antonio, much less at that particular crossing.

'But wait!!!' the diehard Ghost-Child fans among us will point out.  'There's a subdivision just to the north east of the crossing...almost with-in rock-throwing distance...and the streets all have child-like names. These streets are supposedly named after the children killed in the accident. So just plug the location of this elusive accident along with a couple of the first names used for the street names into Google, Bing, or your search engine of choice,  and see what...'

...And several people were way ahead of you on this one. The streets are named after the grand kids of the guy who developed the subdivision. All of whom have grown up happy and healthy.

So much for speculation...now we get into the indisputable facts. 

Even in the very unlikely possibility that everyone with any reason to remember such an accident has passed away, there would still be official documentation. Even eighty years ago, a major accident that resulted in the death of ten kids would have generated literal reams of reports and paperwork, especially if it occurred in a large city. There would be investigative reports from the local and State police as well as State and Federal regulatory commissions, transcripts of court proceedings, and records of the burials of the victims...who would have been also named in the aforementioned local and State reports. 

Also, even in the1930s, San Antonio's population was pushing a quarter million, so they had a pretty large and (For the day) well equipped fire department. It's just about a given that S.A.F.D. would have  responded to a major bus-train crash, even if only peripherally, and that would have also generated a report. Make that reports...one for each company that responded.

Guess what? None of these agencies, be they local, State, or Federal, have any record at all of a bus-train accident with 10 fatalities anywhere in San Antonio or even the State of Texas during that period, much less one at that particular crossing. 

While we're at it, a search of the archives of the fire and police departments of Texas' larger cities would yield the exact same result. No school bus-train crashes with even one fatality, much less ten. And trust me...a ten fatality accident would have left an official footprint somewhere. A whole slew of 'em in fact.

Now, lets talk a bit about The Media. A freight train hitting a school bus and killing ten kids would, to put it mildly, set off a media feeding frenzy. True, back in the Thirties the technology to send it around the world instantly didn't exist as it does today, but, with the accident happening late at night, the local papers and radio stations would have had it by the next morning, the wire services by lunchtime, (If not a bit sooner,) and by the next evening...morning of the second day at the very  latest...it would be a front page newspaper story and lead radio newscast story from coast to coast and border to border. This is, in fact, what happened with all of the accidents from the '30s and '40s that I've posted about.

If newspapers nationwide covered the story, that would mean it would show up in searchable on-line newspaper archives, which takes us back to the old Google-machine and it's kin. Again, if you plug in 'San Antonio Train-Bus Crash', or any version there-of into any newspaper's search box, the only archived stories you get are those about the Ghost-Children. Nothing about an actual accident, much less one that killed ten kids. 

I've researched nine bus train crashes from the 1920s, 30s, and 40s, all of which resulted in ten or more fatalities, and while the quantity and quality of information available varied widely from incident to incident, there was always something  out there...even for the Proberta, California accident, which is just five years shy of being a century ago.  Google searches for All of them yielded at least one or two archived news-paper articles, even, again, the nearly century old Proberta crash. 

That being the case, it stands to reason that, had there been such an accident in San Antonio, there'd be something out there. Problem for the story is...it's not. 

The accident never happened, gang. It just, well, didn't.

This little factual bump-in-the-road very obviously hasn't discouraged the thousands of people who show up annually to check out The Ghostly Children for themselves. So with that thought in mind, lets look at the practical side of the story...is someone or something actually pushing all of theses cars up-hill and off of the tracks?  


 Lets take a look at a couple of street view pics of the crossing first...
 
This is what a driver on Shane Rd sees as he's approaching the crossing. Told ya it was a desolate looking area! Hard to believe this is with-in the city limits of a city of over a million people. Also...and the actual point of this image...you don't even have to look all that hard to see that, yes, it in fact does look like you're heading uphill as you approach the tracks. The question is...are you? Read on.

Same view. but a little closer. The crossing is still an unprotected crossing, BTW. That's just a standard cross-buck, what lpoks like it may be warning lights beneath the cross buck is just a 'Yield' sign.


Hmmmm... Shane Road does indeed seem to be, at the very least, level if not climbing a very slight grade as it approaches the crossing.

 The question is...is it?


This question was answered for us in expert and entertaining fashion by The SciFi Network's 'The Miracle Hunter'  a few years back.  'The Miracle Hunter' host Johnathan Levit, along with his crew and several truckloads of equipment, headed for San Antonio to film an episode that would either confirm or debunk 'The Myth Of The Ghostly Children'. The area immediately surrounding the crossing was wall to wall packed with cars and people the day the episode was filmed, which I'm pretty sure is exactly what they wanted to happen. Given the fact that the episode and filming for same were probably widely publicized in the San Antonio Metro Area for several weeks beforehand, if there hadn't been a huge crowd it would have not only been a surprise, it would have also been a near-killing-blow for the episode...

Take a look-see at the segment of The Miracle Hunters dealing with The Ghostly Children, posted below...



You guys KNEW I'd post this!  The full Miracle Hunters segment on The Ghostly Children

The crew first shot several establishing frames looking up Shane Road while Jonathan commented sagely on the fact that Shane Road does look like it runs uphill towards the crossing. They then panned the camera across the crowd, showing people sprinkling talcum or baby powder across the cars' trunks to preserve any ghostly hand prints that might appear to prove that their cars, if they did indeed roll across the tracks, were pushed across by tiny poltergeist.

And then of course, they filmed several cars rolling slowly across the tracks...that was, after all, the whole point of the episode. After the cars were spirited across the tracks, they interviewed the occupants, taking particular care in showing them pointing to the allegedly new hand prints that had appeared on the trunk lids and rear bumpers of their rides. They asked these same people if they had washed their cars before they came. None of them had, BTW.  Keep this fact in mind...it'll be important here in a minute or so. 

So, to review, the cars were indeed rolling across the tracks with no help from their engines. And hand prints were indeed appearing on the trunk lids. So something was going on...but what? That, of course, is what Jonathon Levit and his crew were there to find out. Spoiler Alert...if you're a fan of The Ghost Children, you're probably not going to like the answer they came up with.

The show team car was readied, and in the process of being readied, it was washed. We're talking 'Had it professionally washed at a high-end car wash' kinda washed. They even set up cameras, both inside and outside the ride, to show the Official Washing in progress. 

Then, once they arrived at Shane and Villamain, Johnathon wiped down the back of the car good to ensure it was indeed squeaky clean, produced a can of talcum powder, and, with great dramatic flourish and camera rolling, sprinkled it liberally across the Jeep Cherokee's lift-gate.

 He then got behind the wheel, positioned the car several dozen yards from the crossing,  popped the transmission into neutral, and waited. They only had to wait for a couple of seconds or so before the car, unbidden, started rolling. And, as had happened to literally thousands of cars since the Legend Of The Ghost Children was born, it bumped across the tracks and rolled on, stopping a few feet beyond, safely clear of the crossing. And yes, in fact, it did look like it was rolling up hill.

The question is, of course, was it? To answer that question the producers of The Miracle Hunter  enlisted the services of a couple of veteran surveyors who were armed with GPS equipped digital surveying equipment that very likely cost a couple of times as much as the vehicle it rode there on.

They set up the equipment with the the first rail that a car on Shane Road would cross as the zero-elevation baseline, sighted on it from 20 feet out, took a reading, and found that the road's elevation had increased..not by much, only about 3/4 of an inch in fact, but it had still increased. Meaning that Shane Road was running uphill as you went away from the crossing...and therefore (Lets all say it together)  down hill as you approached the crossing. But that was just a barely perceptible grade at 20 feet out. The road could have just pitched down, barely, as it got closer to the tracks.

So they took several more readings at points ever further from the crossing and found that the results were consistent...Shane Road ran down-grade as it approached the crossing. Barely down grade, to the tune of a sub 1% grade (A 1% grade is an elevation change of 1 foot in a horizontal run of 100 feet) but still enough of a downgrade for a car with it's transmission in neutral to start rolling. Down hill. Across the crossing. Without any assistance, ghostly or otherwise.

So...it seems that the mystery of the Ghost Children has been solved...busted in fa...

"BUT WAIT!!!!" I hear everyone...OK, the Ghost-Child-Believers among you...yell.  What about the hand prints?

Ahhh...the hand prints! First, there were no hand prints...ghostly or otherwise...on Jonathan's ride after it rolled across the tracks. And, cool as a rescue performed by a bunch of tiny ghosts would be, that one's even easier to explain...and debunk...than the allegedly uphill-rolling cars.  

Think back on all of the cop shows you've ever seen...what's one of the very first things that the fictional detectives/crime scene techs/what have you do when they arrive at the fictional crime scene. 

If you don't say 'Dust For Fingerprints' you have never ever actually watched a cop show. But yes...the correct answer is to dust every possible surface that the unknown evil-doer may have touched to see if he left any fingerprints. And one of the oft-exclaimed frustrations voiced by our TV-Crime-Scene- Techs is 'It's been wiped clean!'  

Keep all of the above in mind...it's all relevant.

Jonathon Levit didn't go into the finger prints/no finger prints deal in as much detail as he did the grade leading to the crossing, but the explanation is simplicity itself. See, fingerprints...and hand prints as well...will last for literally years. There was actually a kidnapping case in my home state of Virginia where the victim's hand print was found on the inside of the trunk lid of the prime suspect's car years after the crime was committed, so again, fingerprints and hand prints will last for years...as long as the surface they're left on isn't wiped down.

When you touch an object that'll hold fingerprints...say the back of a car...your fingers leave minute traces of oil behind. Not only that, when the friction ridges that form your fingerprints compress to grip what ever was touched they leave that oil behind in the exact pattern formed by the ridges, which is why fingerprints are so useful for Identification purposes.  This is also why our detectives dust all surfaces with fingerprint powder, as well as why our ghost hunters liberally dust the trunks and bumpers of their cars with talcum powder or baby powder. The powder sticks to the oil, making the pattern formed by the friction ridges stand out more sharply, thus making the finger prints more visible.

And this takes us right back to the 'Ghost Children' episode of The Miracle Hunter, the cars that were filmed rolling across the crossing and the hand prints seen there-upon. Remember Jonathan running his ride through a car wash before he went out to the crossing? Then wiping it down after he got there? The reason he did so had absolutely nothing to do with wanting his ride to really sparkle for the TV  camera's and everything  to do with fingerprints. In fact he was doing the exact same thing that our TV detectives curse their TV suspects for doing. He was wiping it down to remove any old fingerprints that may have been left behind on the lift gate all the times it was opened it in the past. So, when Jonathan, his camera crew, and a few million TV-viewers checked out the back of his ride after it rolled across the tracks, they saw only sunlight gleaming from pristine, unmarked paint. 

 SO that's not only why Jonathan did such a thorough job cleaning his ride, it's also why all the other cars had finger and hand prints there-upon. The other cars hadn't been washed before arriving at the crossing, and the fingerprints on the trunk lids weren't those of tiny but civic minded poltergeist. They were the prints belonging to the owners of the cars, left there every time they opened, then closed, the trunk. 

Sorry, Ghost-Child-Fans, but the story's pretty much just an Urban Legend.

So! Now that Texas' most famous ghost story has (Again) been thoroughly debunked (Hey, I didn't do it! I'm just relaying the facts!) just where the heck did this story come from. Were the residents of San Antonio so bored in 1938 or '39 that they came up with this story out of whole cloth? Sort of maybe. But they had help, and some inspiration...and yes I noted a specific year for a reason. See, there was a bus crash that year, and, in fact, I've posted about it.

The accident that inspired The Ghostly Children occurred on December 1st, 1938 in Sandy Utah, when the driver of a bus load of high school kids crossed in front of an oncoming train and was hit broadside, killing 26. This was also the worst grade crossing accident in U.S. history...a record that still stands and, hopefully, will never be bested...and I posted an article on it HERE.

That crash became a national news story, and with-in 24 hours banner-sized headlines had appeared on just about every front page in the country, so everyone in the U.S. knew about it, and was talking about it by lunchtime on December 2nd...the day after it happened. This included, of course, the residents of San Antonio. Like the rest of the country, San Antonio was subjected to ten solid days of intense coverage of the accident. And somewhere along the way, as the residents of The Mission City read article after article about the horror in Utah, one or more of them became inspired. 

 We'll never know just how or when the illusion of rolling uphill at San Antonio's Shane Road crossing was discovered or who discovered it, but that optical illusion had to have been an already known fact for the ghost story to have been created around it. And we'll certainly never know just exactly how the ghost story came to be created and then associated with that particular crossing. But we can be pretty sure that it was probably a multiple part...and multiple person...occurrence. And we can also be equally sure that it took a good bit of time...maybe even a few years...for the story to be developed.

 I have a feeling that, while discussing the Sandy accident, someone said something like  'Hey, you know that crossing on Shane Road...the one where you have to really keep your foot on the brake when a train's passing, even though it looks like you're going up hill...what if (As their face took on a pondering expression) what if that accident in Sandy had happened here in San Antonio, at that crossing...and those kids' ghosts haunted the crossing...to keep anyone else form getting hit...by pushing cars off of the crossing. I mean cars already roll there...what if it was kids' ghosts pushing them...

OK, as noted above, it almost definitely didn't happen all in one fell swoop in that manner, but over an unknown period of time...probably a couple of years, a least...the accident was moved to Shane and Villamain and the facts were modified to fit the story, in which the bus became our Catholic school bus, the kids became second and third graders, and the number of students was pared down to ten. And those ten fictional kids became our Ghost-Children.

The story was added to and enhanced, and polished  and spread around, and ultimately someone who wasn't in on creating the story, but who had heard it drove to the isolated crossing, sprinkled talcum powder on the trunk of their car, sat in it, popped the tranny into neutral, and was amazed as the car rolled 'uphill', then became even more amazed when they saw the hand and finger prints on the trunk of their car. So they told a some friends who also who tried it and told more friends...and a legendary Texas ghost story was born.

Then Jonathon Levit went and screwed it up for everyone, right? 

Actually, no. The stream of Ghost hunters and Ghost-Child fans didn't slack off in the least. Hordes of Ghost-Child-Seekers still made road trips to the Shane and Villamain to roll across the tracks...

Sadly...because, really, who doesn't love a good Urban Legend, especially one with a good ghost story connected to it...what Jonathon Levit couldn't do, The Union Pacific Railroad almost did manage to do, far more effectively I might add. The railroad had (And very possibly still has) plans to add a passing siding to that section of the tracks, upgrading the crossing while they were at it, with the distinct possibility that the slight grade that allows cars to roll across the crossing would be leveled off just shy of the tracks. This, of course, would mean that, instead of rolling across the tracks, cars will stop just prior to, or on top of, the crossing. Which would kind of defeat the purpose of the urban legend's story, effectively killing it.

It was almost a done deal. The crossing, and thus Shane Road, had been closed so the track construction and crossing upgrades could take place and the Ghost Children had taken a long over-due vacation. The residents of San Antonio...and likely the rest of Texas...were mourning the loss of their favorite ghostly urban legend when Texas' Favorite Ghost Story got at least a temporary reprieve. 

Those crossing upgrade and passing siding plans have been shelved, the crossing has been reopened, and the Ghost Children are back on the job.

It was probably a budget thing...projects get shelved or post-poned or pushed back all the time due to funding issues. Funds earmarked for a project get diverted to a more important project, or something comes up that requires an emergency reallocation of funds. 

And there are no ghostly children...was no fatal bus-train crash in San Antonio...the accident never ever happened, therefore there were no fatalities, therefore the ghost-children just don't exist. This has been pretty well established.

But..it'd still pretty much redefine cool if the real reason the crossing upgrade project was delayed was because Union Pacific's C.E.O., after opening his office on some recent morning,  found ten little ghosts hanging around, doing ghost-type-things. And, upon seeing him enter, the ten little ghosts became serious...or as serious as ghost-children can ever become...and one of the them, elected spokes-ghost by his or her comrades-in-haunting, said to him 'Dude...we gotta talk about this crossing issue... ; ) 

The Ghost Children are not amused by your planned crossing improvements...not amused at all


***********************NOTES, LINKS, AND STUFF*************************


The other posts in this series
in the order they were posted.


March 1972

October 1971

August 1976


http://disasteroushistory.blogspot.com/2015/02/conasauga-tennesee-bustrain-crash.html  Conasauga Tenn.
  March 2000

http://disasteroushistory.blogspot.com/2016/03/sandy-utah-bus-train-crashthe-worst.html   Sandy, Utah Dec 1938

http://disasteroushistory.blogspot.com/2016/03/proberta-california-train-bus-crash.html  Proberta, California Nov 1921

http://disasteroushistory.blogspot.com/2016/02/shreve-ohio-and-berea-ohio-school.html  Shreve and Berea Ohio Jan. 1930

http://disasteroushistory.blogspot.com/2016/03/crescent-city-florida-trainschool-bus.html  Crescent City, Florida December 1933

http://disasteroushistory.blogspot.com/2016/03/rockville-md-train-bus-crash-april-11th.html  Rockville, Maryland April 1935

http://disasteroushistory.blogspot.com/2016/03/mason-city-iowa-bus-train-crash.html  Mason City, Iowa Oct. 1937

http://disasteroushistory.blogspot.com/2016/03/eads-tennessee-trainschool-bus-crash.html Eads, Tennessee Oct. 1941



<***>

I gotta admit, this one made me wish I lived about 1400 miles or so closer to San Antonio. Or that I had the free time and free cash to snag a plane ticket and make the four hour and change flight to The Mission City so I could check out the crossing myself. I mean, really, who doesn't love a good ghost story.

I had this one in mind to wind up the train/bus crash posts almost two years ago, when I started working on this series. It's a fun and unique little story, mythical (And debunked) urban legend though it may be. It's still nice to end this series of posts up with a story that doesn't rip your heart out.

Another interesting point about The Ghostly Children...they are far better documented than any of the actual bus/train crashes I researched. There are literally hundreds of articles on-line about them.

OK...On to the Notes an' such!


<***>

Another interesting point about The Lone Star State's favorite tiny ghosts...no one's really sure just when they came into being. While I had the story being created shortly after the Sandy accident occurred, the legend probably didn't gather steam until the mid or late Forties, and it wasn't well known outside of Texas, apparently, until the Fifties at the earliest.

It had started gathering a good bit of renown by the Seventies, but it really took off with-in the last twenty or so years, with the coming of The Internet.

<***>


Interestingly enough, The Ghostly Children apparently don't limit their activities to San Antonio...a couple of other crossing accidents have inspired their own version of the same story. As all of them popped up at about the same time, so they were all very likely inspired by the Sandy, Utah crash. On top of that, so called 'Gravity Hills'...hills that seem to ascend rather than descend because of the lack of a true horizon creating an optical illusion...are not that uncommon at all, and all of these urban legends are based on such a hill.

Interestingly enough, it would have been impossible for a similar urban legend to actually take root at the now long-gone crossing where the Sandy, Utah crash occurred because that road not only climbed a pretty good grade as it crossed the tracks, it also rounded a pretty sharp curve immediately before the crossing rather than being a straight shot like Shane Road, meaning that there would be no way that a car could roll across the crossing without being driven across..

Of course, train wrecks in general have a habit of inspiring ghost stories, and The Ghostly Children aren't even the only youthful poltergeists directly inspired by the Sandy Utah bus /train crash. That tragic and horrendous crash has it's own ghosts. The kids who never made it to school allegedly haunted the halls and classrooms of old Jordan High School, and then, after a new Jordan High was built, occasionally popped up at the entertainment complex that was built on the site of the old school.

Like The Ghostly Children, these ghosts apparently were (And are) benevolent. Sadly, though, unlike the San Antonio crossing ghost children, the Sandy ghost stories were inspired by an accident that was, tragically, very real.



<***>


San Antonio's Ghostly Children even inspired a movie. The 2006 horror film 'Fingerprints', written and produced by Jason and Brian Cleveland, and directed by Harry Basil, was based all but directly on the Ghostly Children. 

Poster for 'Fingerprints'

In the film, a teenage girl (Melanie, portrayed by Leah Pipes) gets out of rehab and returns to her small Texas town, where Ghost Children push cars off of a crossing before it can be hit by a train (Hmmmm...that do sound familiar, don't it?). This being a horror film, there's a sinister and evil mystery to go along with the bus crash, and the ghosts, apparently, aren't as benevolent as their San Antonio kindred spirits.

The film never got a wide release...it was an Indie film, released at various film festivals around the country, but it did grab a pretty prestigious award, snagging 'Best Feature Film' at the New York City Horror Film Festival.

For more details about 'Fingerprints', take a look at it's Wikipedia Page and IMDb page 

Both are loaded with good information about the film, and IMDb is the definitive 'Go To' site for info on anything involving either television or film.



<***>

While The Miracle Hunter's investigation of The Ghostly Children is, arguably, the best known debunking of the myth, they're not the only ones who took the Ghost Children to the small screen. The Sci-Fi Channels 'Fact or Faked also did an episode...or half of an episode...devoted to the Ghost Children, and the debunking of same. 

They covered the same material as  'The Miracle Hunter', and took it just a scosh further by interviewing one of those local historians I was talking about above, who explained the ghostly screams that some people reported.

Here's a small segment of the episode:





The full episode is available on Amazon...at a buck ninety-nine a pop. Sure, that's not going to break anyone...but it also prevents me from posting the entire episode.

As for The Ghost Children's opinion of their fleeting small screen fame...through their agent, they declined interview, other than noting that 'Those posers Slimer and Casper get all the good publicity!!!' ;)

<***>

While straight ghost stories and paranormal activity are way beyond the scope of this blog, I'd still be remiss if I didn't mention the fact that The Ghost Children are in good company...San Antonio is known as The Most Haunted City in Texas.

Many if not most of the city's numerous old hotels, such as the The Menger, The Crockett, The Sheraton (Formally the Gunter), The Emily Morgan, and The Black Swan Inn, have their own well known ghosts-in-residence.

Then of course you have an obscure little mission known as The Alamo that's home to a few ghosts of it's own. And this is just a small sampling of San Antonio's citizen-ghosts. If you're into the Paranormal...or just curious...just plug San Antonio and 'Most Haunted City' into Google and see what you come up with!


<***>LINKS<***>



As I noted above, there at least seemed to be more articles written about The Ghostly Children then there were of every other bus crash I've posted about combined. Literal pages. And pages. And pages of 'em.

I'm not even going to try to post all of 'em, so what I am gonna do is post the best several links.



http://www.legendsofamerica.com/tx-ghostlychildren.html   Legends of America article about the Ghostly Children. The author is..rightfully...pretty skeptical about the legend. There are also some pretty interesting comments at the end of the article, written by a couple of true believers in the Ghost Children

http://paranormal.about.com/od/hauntedplaces/a/The-Haunted-Railroad-Crossing.htm   Another interesting article, this one written by paranormal phenomenon expert Stephen Wagner. While it disputes an actual bus crash happening at the crossing, it also gives some pretty chilling examples of paranormal activity occurring at Shane and Villamain...pretty convincing stuff if you believe in that sort of thing. It's an interesting and entertaining read whether you 'Believe in Ghosts' or not.

http://www.roadsideamerica.com/tip/1298    Roadside America.Com's page about The Ghostly Children. Has some interesting and in depth comments both pro and con, RE: The Ghost Children.. This is an awesome site in general, in fact, chock full of interesting articles about unusual things that can be found along the highways and byways of The U.S. and Canada.

http://www.snopes.com/horrors/ghosts/handprint.asp   Ya just gotta have a Snopes.com page about The Ghostly Children. Spoiler Alert...Snopes pretty much debunks the myth as well. Just not as eloquently as I did ;) :D

http://www.weirdus.com/states/texas/road_less_traveled/children_of_the_tracks/index.php
Weird US.Com also has a page about The Ghostly Children...a collection of stories by people who have indeed checked out the myth.

http://archive.randi.org/site/index.php/swift-blog/1829-san-antonios-haunted-railroad-tracks-.html
Another blog-post that debunks the myth...and makes a very good point while it's at it.. Be sure to read all the way to the end.

http://sanantonioghosttracks.blogspot.com/   The Ghost Children even have their own blog!!