Blood on the Tracks: The Dangerous, Indispensible Railroads of the 1940s

It would be hard to overestimate the impact of the railroad on Montgomery. 

Because the Chicago, Burlington and Quincy Railroad owned the Sheep Yards, it was one of the biggest employers in the area. A large percent of the population either worked for the railroad itself, or for the sheep yards. Both industries attracted families in the days when people wanted to live near their jobs.  Railroad men built many of the homes on South River Street. 

Emmett Smith, Sr. was one of these men who lived in the 600 block of River Street. He told about Jack Ford, the engineer who drove the Zephyr train from Denver to Chicago to open the World’s Fair. Ford was born in the stagecoach house on Jefferson Street, just east of River Street. 

Railroading seemed to be “in the blood,” with fathers, sons, and uncles all proud to be railroad men. Compared to the other career choices in those days, it was one of the best. Four of Emmett Smith’s fellow railroaders lived in the same block. They were John Marsh, George Stathis, Cecil Piggott, Sr., and William Schade, Sr.      

“Gandy Dancers” was the name given to the crew of workers who patrolled the tracks inspecting for damage. They carried an array of tools to prod any bent tracks and do quick adjustments and repairs where necessary. The heat and constant pressure when the trains rounded a curve would damage the iron tracks, and they had to be constantly checked to avoid a derailment.

The movements that the man made to jostle the tracks and get them in alignment was like a dance, and some think that’s where the name came from. 

If you grew up in Montgomery during the '30s and '40s, you could have taken the Dinky north to the CB&Q Depot in Aurora, or south to Bristol Station or Streator. A trip on the Dinky was a unique experience. It was a flat front, red/orange painted car. It had a high-pitched air horn. It ran two round trips a day between Aurora and Streater, cut back to one in later years. It was sidelined in the 1950s, but during its run, there was one spectacular crash.

In February of 1943, the engineer of a freight train failed to read his orders before leaving the depot, in violation of railroad procedure, and transportation law. The last dispatch, which he failed to read, was an order to remain in Montgomery until the Dinky passed. This oversight resulted in tragedy.

The head-on crash, near where Boulder Hill is today, killed the motorman of the Dinky and injured several passengers. The gasoline-powered car burst into flames on impact. Several mailbags were burned as well. 

In October of 1945 there was another tragic train wreck at an unmarked crossing south of the village. That is the most vivid event in my childhood memories. Because it was my 12th birthday, mother was taking me with her to visit my grandfather at the TB sanitarium on Lake Street in Aurora. It was a red-letter day for me because children under 12 were not allowed in the building, and could only sit outside on a park bench and wave at the window. 

On our way, we made a quick trip to Paramount Heights, a food market on Route 31, near where the Caterpillar factory is today, to pick out a fruit basket for Grandpa.  

As we left the parking lot we saw a big commotion across the highway, on the road leading down to the Binder’s cottages. Soon we heard sirens in the distance and noticed a train stopped about half a mile down the track. One glance at the scene left us speechless and we made a U-turn. There were tears in our eyes as we tried to make sense of it. 

An eastbound Burlington Zephyr had slammed into a car that was stalled on the crossing half a mile south of Montgomery. The engineer was 300 feet away when he saw it. He used the emergency brake, but the train was unable to stop for another half mile. A man and wife in the front seat were killed. A third man who was sitting in the back seat was able to jump out before the train hit.  

The automobile flew into the air and landed upside down at the bottom of the embankment 50 feet away. The engine flew off and killed a rabbit that was running from the scene. The people who were killed came from one of the Binder cottages north of the Aurora Disposal Plant. Hearing the crash, two young men—Richard Reynolds, 19 and Richard McCarty, 13—ran from the cottages after calling an ambulance.

The three people in the automobile were Charles Weilmuenster, 47, a watchman at the government offices at the Cotton Mill Mart; his wife Eva, 39; and Fred Gordon, 51, a worker at the Aurora Sanitary District.

Fred Gordon was able to explain why the car was stalled. The wheels skidded in the clay as the car was passing over the tracks, going uphill. The newspaper that day reported heavy rains in the area. Because it was a private road, there were no gates or warning lights. It was a recipe for disaster. 

Just six months later, another catastrophic accident that should never have happened occurred in nearby Naperville. Two Burlington trains collided, resulting in the death of 43 people and injuring 125. This accident turned the little village of 5,287 people into chaos as everybody in town ran to the scene. 

Details of this accident and the 1964 train wreck that occurred inside the village of Montgomery are subjects of the next column.