TABLE 1
Replacement of Iron and Crossties on the L & N During the Civil War
Iron (in tons)
Source: Kincaid Herr, The Louisville & Nashville Railroad 1850–1963 (Louisville, 1964), 372.
The metamorphosis of the struggling antebellum L & N into the South’s most powerful transportation system owed much to both its favorable competitive situation after 1865 and the ability of its aggressive management to wring every advantage from that situation. But neither factor could have prevailed for long had the company not endeavored to keep a step ahead of its rivals in performance as well. In this area much depended upon the sinews of transportation: roadway and track, motive power, rolling stock, operational supplies, and physical facilities. During most of the late nineteenth century the L & N, despite its increasing emphasis upon expansion, allocated a sufficient portion of its resources to operations and maintenance to protect its original lead over the recuperating southern lines.
Any comparative analysis of railroads is apt to become so misleading as to require careful qualification. For example, American lines were almost invariably more cheaply built and therefore less durable than European roads. In the flush of the railway fever during the period 1830–50 the United States far outstripped Europe in mileage constructed despite a much smaller total expenditure. This sizable difference did not necessarily imply shoddy or careless workmanship, thoughtless planning, or technical ignorance. It meant rather that American roads faced a radically different set of problems. They had to cover much greater distances, could count on a much smaller initial traffic to sustain their operations, and had a much harder time mobilizing capital for such uncertain ventures. Later prosperity might lead to significant physical improvements, but few American companies could afford the luxury of constructing an original facility to endure the ages.
Similarly, American railroads varied widely among the sections in length, cost of construction, and traffic volume. In 1860 the compact, densely populated Northeast possessed nearly 200 lines with an average length of about fifty miles built at a cost of some $48,000 per mile. By contrast the sprawling, more sparsely settled Midwest averaged over 100 miles in length with a cost of $37,000 per mile. The agrarian South resembled the area north of the Ohio, with lines averaging around ninety miles in length built at an average cost of only $28,000 per mile. In each case the figures reflected the critical factors of capital supply, terrain contours, and traffic density. Comparisons of rolling stock follow the same pattern. On the eve of the Civil War the South Carolina Railroad led all southern lines with 849 cars of all kinds. In the Northeast the Delaware, Lackawanna & Western alone owned 4,000 cars, and farther west the Michigan Central had about 2,500.
In broad terms, then, southern roads suffered from comparison with northern roads in virtually any category. They were built more cheaply, had flimsier roadbeds, lighter engines, considerably less traffic, less rolling stock, shoddier facilities, and smaller incomes. But of course the southern roads were not intended to serve as comparative models; they were constructed to meet the immediate transportation needs of their region. Unlike the Northeast, the South was a vast region, and unlike the Midwest it lacked a diversified economy to sustain its railroads. It needed lines that could haul seasonal crops long distances with little prospect of much return business. Dependent upon the vagaries of agricultural staples for their main source of income, such lines could not afford heavy initial investments in roadways or equipment. Traversing thinly settled rural areas, they lacked a heavy volume of traffic and so charged significantly higher rates than northern roads. But the nation’s major river systems penetrated the South, and fluvial competition exerted serious restraints upon rail freight rates.
For these and other reasons, the southern railroads operated in a fairly unique economic environment. As creatures of that environment, they fit no other set of standards. Compared to its northern counterparts, the L & N cut a rather pale figure from almost any point of view. But on its own home grounds, in the framework of intraregional development, it stood solidly among the first rank.
Prior to the Civil War few southern roads could boast of an enduring roadbed or track. Limitations of capital, the small volume of business, and a rugged terrain compelled lines to light if not makeshift construction. The hilly countryside meant numerous heavy grades or, more often, violent curves. The abundance of waterways meant frequent bridging that often amounted to little more than spindly trestles. In coastal areas the lines encountered numerous swamps, raging storms, and certain forms of marine life that ate through bridge timbers and crossties.
To meet their construction problems southern superintendents rarely exceeded minimum needs. Lacking dynamite, they avoided steep grades and laid their iron upon the thinnest of embankments. Ties went down upon a sparse topsoil with little or no ballast. If ballasting were done, stone or gravel were seldom used. The severe drainage problem of so fluvial a region required some ditching, but most roads gave the work short shrift. In hilly areas the iron usually snaked sharply around obstacles in terrifying loops. To conquer the waterways fragile wooden bridges were raised, sometimes to breathtaking heights. Occasionally, in a burst of opulence, a company might install stone abutments or even iron trusses. The crossties, hewn from the dense forests along most right-of-ways, were crude because the cutting process still relied upon hand labor and was therefore expensive. Even the climate conspired to help shorten the crossties’ lifespan. One southern superintendent noted in 1859 that ties on his road lasted only about half as long as those on roads in colder climates.
Measured against these general standards, the L & N seemed almost a luxury facility. During the early stages of construction the company’s first chief engineer, L. L. Robinson, devoted considerable attention to the question of roadbed and track. In addition, the long delays in completing the line enabled the company to do a thorough job on most projects and to replace temporary structures with more permanent fixtures. All work became standardized as much as possible. All tunnels through rock, for example, were cut twelve feet wide at the grade line with the tops of the vertical sides at twelve feet above grade. The peak of each tunnel arch stood eighteen feet above the track.
In many ways the tunnel represented the most impressive engineering feat on the main line. The celebrated arch through Muldraugh’s Hill was the most spectacular structure, but the twin tunnels through the Tennessee Ridge attracted nearly as much attention. Located halfway between Fountain Head and Gallatin, the northernmost tunnel extended 945 feet at a distance of eighty-five feet below the summit. The second structure, only 388 feet south of the first, was 600 feet long and 165 feet below the summit. Rock cuttings for this 3½ -mile piece of road cost nearly $200,000, but the finished line offered the traveller a stunning view of the landscape.
Less than 25 per cent of the L & N main stem had curves, and few of these matched the elliptical bends in other southern roads. About forty- five of the 185 miles were on level grade, and nearly 100 miles of the remainder had less than fifty feet per mile. The original line included 4,140 feet of bridges and 3,956 feet of trestles. By 1868 the figures advanced to 6,724 feet of bridges and only 912 feet in trestles. Several of the bridges received iron from the first, and wartime destruction allowed gradual improvement of other spans. Major bridges utilized the truss principle, still a relatively recent innovation, thanks to the presence of Albert Fink. Though several different truss designs were used on the original spans, Fink’s own invention soon took precedence and was widely adopted elsewhere. One L & N bridge, the magnificent Green River Bridge, received national publicity, but several others deserved acclaim as well.
Other details of construction transcended minimum standards. Rock embankments were eighteen feet wide at grade and earth cuts twenty; both had sides with a one-foot horizontal slope to every five feet vertical. All fills were sixteen feet wide at grade line. At most points where periodic high water menaced the base of embankments, a lining of rock was raised to the necessary height. Only in ballasting did the company fall significantly short of its goal, and even then it outshone most southern roads. When the road opened in October, 1859, only about half the line was ballasted, and as late as 1866 nearly thirty-nine miles of the main stem remained unballasted.
In the area of track and crossties the L & N fared better. By 1861 most southern roads used rolled, wrought-iron, T-bar rail, though a distressing amount of mileage still consisted of such archaic types as “strap,” “U,” and “flanged” rails. Weighing from thirty-five to sixty-eight pounds to the yard with section lengths ranging from eighteen feet to twenty-four feet, T-rail lacked both strength and stamina under the pressure of heavy traffic. But it far excelled all other existing types, and it could also be rerolled and returned to duty. Until the advent of steel rails, which the L & N did not utilize until late 1870, T-rail remained dominant. Apparently the entire original line was laid with T-rail fastened at the joints with devices called chairs. Although Robinson originally planned to use 60-pound rail, most of the iron actually installed weighed fifty-four pounds or less. Like most southern roads the rails were spiked directly to the crossties.
To hold the iron, crossties were laid at a ratio of approximately 2,700 to the mile, a figure that increased by only 100 during the next century. For obvious reasons no other materials received so constant wear and required so rapid replacement as rails and crossties. In that vital area of renovation the L & N maintained a good if erratic record, as Table 1 indicates.
TABLE 1
Replacement of Iron and Crossties on the L & N During the Civil War
Iron (in tons)
Source: Kincaid Herr, The Louisville & Nashville Railroad 1850–1963 (Louisville, 1964), 372.
As the figures suggest, the bulk of renovative work took place during the last two years of the war, when the line was relatively secure from enemy attack. That was why it emerged from the war in the best physical condition of its brief history.
By modern standards the engines of antebellum southern railroads seem tiny, fragile things. Most of them were of “American” design, the 4–4–0 type with a front, four-wheel swivel-truck that bore the weight of the cylinders, smoke box, and an enormous projecting cowcatcher. Topped by a bulbous stack resembling a funnel, the 4–4–0 evolved to fit the peculiar demands of American roads. Light, tough, and surprisingly durable, these iron ponies withstood the chilling curves present on so many lines. Their limited hauling capacity was not a serious handicap on the southern roads, which were seldom overwhelmed with business, and they suited the loosely anchored roadbeds of the South.
During the 1850s the American type evolved into a crude standard of size and power, but never approached the point where parts could be interchanged. Too many firms built locomotives to eradicate either distinctive details of design or variations in dimensions in such areas as cylinder measurements, fireboxes, driver sizes, boiler diameters, and gross weight. A 4–4–0 engine might weigh anywhere from nine to thirty-five tons, with cylinders that averaged around fourteen inches in diameter with a stroke of about twenty-two inches. Though the engines might be resplendent with decorative brasswork and painting, they bore a Spartan aura of mechanical simplicity. Such later devices as superheaters, feedwaterheaters, mechanical stokers, and low water alarms were conspicuously absent. But the clanging bell became an early fixture, as did the oil lamp headlight.
The first locomotives acquired by the L & N were two 4–4–0 types purchased from a Cincinnati company in July, 1855. Before the road opened in 1859 the company added nine more engines, including five from the M. W. Baldwin Company. Four of the small Baldwin engines, weighing only about 40,000 pounds, were 0–6–0 and 0–8–0 types with lavish brasswork and handsome walnut cabs. The remaining engine, a 4–4–0 named the “Sumner,” featured an 8-wheel tender with tanks that held only 1,500 gallons of water. By 1860 the L & N owned thirty locomotives, most of which had been purchased from such firms as Moore & Richardson of Cincinnati, Baldwin, and the Schenectady Locomotive Works. That same year, however, the company placed in service the first engine built in its own shops. Later it would be claimed that engine No. 29, the beautiful “Southern Belle” immortalized in song by Will Hays of the Louisville Courier, was the first locomotive built south of the Ohio River. The error stemmed from a change in numbers, for “Southern Belle” did not emerge from the company’s shops until 1871.
Like other southern roads, the L & N at first tried to assign its engines both a name and a number. The original names mainly honored counties along the route, prominent landmarks such as the Green River, and individuals important in the company’s early history. Governor Helm’s name adorned one early engine, as did those of James Guthrie and George McLeod, the L & N’s chief engineer. When the company had accumulated nineteen engines, however, the business of assigning names grew tiresome. Thereafter the L & N used only numbers, and the individuality of its locomotives became an early casualty to the age of quantification. On several occasions, too, the L & N renumbered its locomotives for various reasons, which rendered the figures useless for estimating tenure of service.
Since all L & N locomotives, like those of other southern roads, burned wood at a voracious rate, fuel supply became a critical and major item in the line’s operating cost. A single cord of wood seldom propelled a train more than sixty miles, but forests usually existed in abundance along the right-of-way. To obtain the necessary cordwood stacked at intervals along the line the L & N hired local farmers and workmen as suppliers whenever possible. Large quantities of lumber were also needed at the car shops and for trestles, crossties, support timbers, and other structures. Other supplies could not be obtained so immediately. The iron ponies consumed large amounts of animal oils and tallow as lubricants, sperm oil for the headlight, and block tin for the bearings, to say nothing of such items as pig iron, nails, varnish, paper, and white lead.
No. 29, the famous “Southern Belle,” a 4–4–0 American designed by Thatcher Perkins and built in the L & N’s own shops in 1871.
This 1870 train burned wood and apparently stopped to “wood up.” Evidently some locomotives on the line were burning coal, however, because the platform beside the track is piled with coal.
The Louisville & Nashville Railroad’s Annual Report for the year ending October 1, 1860, shows it was the proud possessor of 30 locomotives. Sixteen of these seem to have been secured from Moore & Richardson during the period 1859–1860. After it had purchased 19 locomotives the Company evidently decided to number future acquisitions exclusively, instead of assigning them both names and numbers. The names of the 19 locomotives mentioned, their builders, and the dates purchased, were listed as follows:
Ben Spalding | Niles & Company | July, 1855 |
Hart County | Niles & Company | July, 1855 |
Governor Helm | Fairbanks | Sept., 1856 |
Louisville | Fairbanks | Sept., 1856 |
New Haven | Moore & Richardson | Sept., 1857 |
Marion | Moore & Richardson | Sept., 1857 |
Muldraugh | Baldwin | June, 1858 |
Davidson | Baldwin | July, 1858 |
Hardin County | Moore & Richardson | July, 1858 |
Green River | Moore & Richardson | Sept., 1858 |
George McLeod | Baldwin | Oct., 1858 |
James Guthrie | Moore & Richardson | Dec., 1858 |
James F. Gamble | Moore & Richardson | Jan., 1859 |
Edmonson | Moore & Richardson | May, 1859 |
Barren | Moore & Richardson | May, 1859 |
Warren | Moore & Richardson | June, 1859 |
Simpson | Moore & Richardson | June, 1859 |
Quigley | Moore & Richardson | Aug., 1859 |
Newcombe | Moore & Richardson | Sept., 1859 |
The names of these locomotives and their builders do not quite coincide with information secured from other sources and it is probable that some re-naming of locomotives had already been done at the time the above list was compiled, in much the same manner as the L. & N. was subsequently to re-number its locomotives.
For that outlay the L & N received motive power that drove its passenger trains faster than those of any other southern line. Aided by the road’s relatively straight line, trains sometimes reached forty miles an hour in an era when twenty-five miles an hour was often considered foolhardy. Even that avid spokesman of southern transportation, J. D. B. DeBow, balked at so breakneck a pace. Somewhat shaken by a trip over the L & N, he confessed that “It was with some little nervousness that we found ourselves dashing onward at this unusual speed—the rocking and dancing, and jumping of the cars being little calculated to allay the feeling.”1
The burden of war at first depleted the L & N’s stock of locomotives, primarily by confiscation. As the war progressed, however, some engines were recovered from the Rebels, others were purchased, and a few came on the line from northern roads at the government’s behest. Shrewdly Fink husbanded his motive power during the last two years of the war. On June 30, 1865, he could list sixty-one locomotives on his roster, only a few of which were still hors d’combat. A handful of the engines were actually coal-burners, a trend that would spread rapidly during the 1870s. Estimating that the use of coal would cut its fuel cost about 25 per cent, the L & N bought and manufactured only coal-burners and began converting its wood-burners.
For five years after Appomattox the L & N added only one new locomotive to its force, and that engine was built in the company’s own locomotive shop in 1869. The postwar expansion policy, however, soon forced a substantial increase in motive power. In 1870 the company acquired fifteen locomotives of the 4–4–0 type from a subsidiary of the Baldwin Locomotive Company. During the next three years the L & N escalated its engine purchases to include forty-one Mogul 2–6–0 types, ten 4–4–0 types, and a number of 0–4–0 switch engines. In 1871–72 the company shop added five engines of the 2–6–0 type to the roster. Credit for the increasing home production of motive power belonged to Thatcher Perkins, who served as superintendent of machinery from 1869 to 1879. A talented mechanic of broad experience, Perkins gained a wide reputation in locomotive design. Two of the L & N’s most beautiful and acclaimed engines, “Southern Belle” and No. 77, both 4–4–0 types, were his creations.
Since the forms of motive power tended to follow their function, the postwar economic environment produced an accelerating pressure for heavier engines. Industrial expansion, population growth, an increase in agricultural productivity, the development of new sources of raw materials, and other factors all precipitated a sharp rise in both the volume of traffic and the competition for that business. The L & N’s expansion policy strained the company’s resources in servicing its swollen territory with existing rolling stock. Part of the solution to this problem lay in heavier locomotives, and slowly the lightweight ponies of the 1850s gave way to engines weighing 71,000 and 80,500 pounds. The newer engines added some speed and could haul slightly heavier loads, but the overall results were disappointing. Despite continued technological improvements the L & N’s motive power, until the mid-1890s, hauled freight trains that averaged only about eighteen cars with capacities ranging between ten and fifteen tons each.
These modest figures sufficed to keep the L & N in the forefront of southern roads but often proved unequal to its own needs. Motive power, like other equipment and operational facilities, had to vie for capital with expensive expansion projects and usually came out second best. Nor could engines do the job alone, for an increase in motive power compelled additional rolling stock and major improvements on the roadbed to equip it for heavier, speedier traffic. The expense of these interwoven improvements discouraged even the most ardent disciple of first class service. Despite sporadic attempts to solve the problem once and for all, the L & N, like other roads, never succeeded in keeping pace with the need for more motive power, rolling stock, and roadbed improvements. It remained a step ahead of its competitors and a step behind itself.
Unlike motive power the early rolling stock of the L & N bore a surprisingly close resemblance to its modern counterparts. Freight cars were of course smaller, with load limits that rarely exceeded 16,000 pounds. Constructed entirely of wood, they lacked such later refinements as airbrakes and automatic couplers. Though the familiar term “boxcars” aptly described the basic freight car, a host of specialized cars appeared early. At the close of the Civil War the L & N listed not only boxcars but rock cars, gondola cars, flat cars, stone and gravel cars, boarding cars, sawyer cars, and hand dump cars. Crude antecedents of the tank car and refrigerator car also saw service during the 1850s and 1860s, as did cattle cars. One traditional car, the caboose, went unlisted and seems to have arrived some years later.
Passenger coaches underwent a more striking transformation in the early postwar era. The early coaches represented a dubious improvement over stagecoach travel in any manner except speed. Spare and unadorned, fitted with hard, rigidly straight seats, lighted by candles, the coaches jounced roughly along lightly anchored roadbeds. Bereft of any cushioning the traveller had to seek his own ballast as best he could. And if he escaped the choking dust clouds of the stagecoach, he confronted instead thick billows of smoke filled with live sparks that eluded the spark-catching screens atop the smokestack. Since the vestibuled coach had not yet arrived, blasts of cold air accompanied every opening of the door. On wintry days the travellers tended to gravitate towards the large stoves placed at each end of the coach. In cold weather, too, some archaic types of rail grew brittle enough to snap unexpectedly through the floor of the car.
In common with other southern roads the L & N early divided passenger travel into first and second class, but the difference between the classes remains ambiguous. Perhaps second class pertained to Negro travellers, slave or free, but other southern roads added a “servants” class to the other two classes. Basic facilities seemed to be the same for all. Water for washing could be obtained from tanks suspended beneath the coach by means of a hand pump. Toilet facilities consisted simply of an enclosed travelling outhouse offering a splendid view of the roadbed.
Within a decade after the Civil War some improvements began to appear. The L & N made its first purchase of airbrakes in 1871 and extended its use of the device as rapidly as funds would permit. The flickering candles slowly gave way to ornate kerosene lamps, and hot water heaters replaced some of the stoves. The installation of overhead water tanks ushered in the gravity principle water system. But automatic couplers did not appear even on an experimental basis until 1885, and both gas lighting and the first primitive vestibuled cars were absent from the L & N until 1887. Not until 1901 did the company acquire a dining car; prior to that year all passenger trains scheduled meal stops at established stations. Although crude sleeping cars could be found on some lines as early as 1836 general use of that facility awaited the innovative genius of George M. Pullman. The L & N contracted for a sleeping car arrangement as early as 1864 but superseded it in an 1872 contract with the newly organized Pullman Southern Car Company. Not until the mid-1880s did passenger coaches begin to shed their Spartan aura in favor of a polished Victorian opulence.
Two special types of car, the baggage and express car and the mail car, made early debuts with the L & N. The express car, handling both the baggage of patrons and less-than-carload freight requiring expedited handling, appeared with the company’s first trains. The obvious baggage function has changed little, but the express business underwent a transformation characterized by consolidation. As business developed every railroad faced the choice of carrying express freight for other firms or starting its own express venture. Most companies, including the L & N, preferred to act as a carrier at stipulated rates for outside express firms.
Originally the L & N fell into this arrangement more from necessity than calculation. During the war, when the road proved utterly unable to handle both private and government freight, the Adams Express Company relieved part of the burden. Using the name Army Freight Line, the Adams firm agreed to handle much of the private traffic. More important, they agreed to furnish their own cars for the service and the contract specified the allotted division of profits. After the war the L & N revised the contract to more conventional terms: it would furnish the cars, including an entire car on each of the two daily trains between Louisville and Nashville, at a stipulated rate. Signed July 1, 1865, the contract endured in its basic terms until 1880, when the company closed a joint agreement with Adams and the Southern Express Company. Throughout the last half of the century the L & N management contemplated the creation of their own express agency but never pursued the matter beyond the drawing board.
The introduction of mail cars on the L & N cannot be clearly traced. The company received its first government contract for carrying mails in 1858, but this involved only transportation and did not require special cars. The creation of Railway Mail Service in 1864 represented a distinct change. It recognized the potential of using a railway car as a branch post office in which mail for points between the terminal cities could be sorted en route and dropped off at the various stations. This innovation led to the development of post office cars fitted out with pouches, racks, pigeon-holes, safes for monies and other valuables, and other equipment. To meet this need the L & N at first merely converted existing cars (apparently baggage cars) for postal use. In 1869 three such cars entered the service as the company’s first postal cars. By 1900 the number would rise to sixty-six.
As the basic armaments in the competitive war, the sinews of transportation posed a thorny dilemma. In terms of internal accounting, the main objective was to maintain just enough equipment to do the road’s business, current and projected. Especially must the two extremes be avoided: overinvestment in equipment to the neglect of other capital needs and underinvestment to the point where customers who could not be accommodated went to competing lines. From an external point of view, however, the company could ill afford to fall behind its major competitors in service regardless of the investment required. Customers once lost might get into the habit of using other lines, rail or water, and rival facilities seemed to multiply as rapidly as the amount of traffic available. The heavily seasonal and cyclical flow of the South’s largely agricultural traffic accentuated the problem, for a rolling stock sufficient for normal business proved wholly inadequate to the crush of harvest time.
As the South’s healthiest road in 1865, the L & N had less to worry about than most of its rivals. Nevertheless, the basic dilemma of southern railroad strategy in the postwar era impaled the powerful roads no less than the weak. That dilemma revolved squarely around the classic economic problem of allocation of resources. Given the inevitable shortage of capital, the L & N had constantly to decide whether to invest primarily in equipment or in expansion. If it chose the former, the result might be a strong, well-equipped road shut out of vital markets by more ambitious competitors. That could lead to slow economic strangulation. If it chose the latter, the result might be a far-flung system utterly ill-equipped to service the markets it captured. That might lead to internal collapse and bankruptcy. From the vantage point of 1865, neither alternative emerged clearly as the unmistakable wave of the future.
In short, the armaments of transportation competition were subject to their own version of escalation, whether by threat or by deed. And they were equally tied to broader strategies, the goal of which was not only to seize waiting markets but to service them as well. The sinews of transportation became the indispensable if unsung bulwark for the foreign policies of every rival line, and their test of strength came when diplomacy collapsed into outright war. No amount of rate manipulation or subtlety of policy could gloss over an inability to do the business at hand in an hour of crisis. In railroading as in the military, victory usually went to the biggest battalions.
The L & N’s officers were keenly aware of these difficulties. Predictably, however, they divided hotly over the proper solutions. Eventually the company, like most other southern roads, would give expansion priority over equipment. Though early adopting the policy of applying a large portion of net earnings to improvements, it never succeeded in keeping pace with the growing demand for equipment—a demand accelerated greatly by the road’s expansion policies. In absolute terms the L & N again remained a step behind itself in meeting equipment needs, but in relative terms it stayed a step ahead of its competition.
