More about Railroading in California in the Seventies
The Fire Train From the Reminiscences of Clarence M. Wooster
DURING the summer of 1878, 1 was promoted and given charge of Summit station, which automatically made me one of the crew of the snowplow and of the fire train— a responsible position with a good salary for a kid of twenty. Carrying with me a telegraphic outfit, I would cut the wire and open the telegraphic communication when there was a fire, or when the plow jumped the track or encountered other diffi- culties which blocked the road. We "batched" in comfortable quarters adjoining the office. Lou Banvard, the night operator, and Sam Jacobs, the Western Union line supervisor, and later Charley Shearer, washed the dishes while I acted as chef. We had almost everything which we were capable of preparing and eating, including the delicious frozen oysters that then were available, the best of beef from Joe Marsden's Truckee shop, Mohr and York's "Our Taste" hams and bacon. Booth & Company's gro- ceries, and a bread basket thrice weekly from Sacramento. Our total living cost was but twelve dollars a month for each person. That was before hidden taxation had spread its insidious toll over all the food and raiment of man- kind. A three-story, frame hotel, conducted by Jim Card well, adjoined the Summit office. The roofs of the flat sheds extended to the second floor, over a distance of forty feet. Their tops afforded a very delightful promenade down along the side of Summit Valley and gave to the hotel a well shaded foreground which served pleasingly as a lounge. Summer guests came from the Bay cities, Sacramento and other sources, seeking the cool and refreshing air of that altitude.
This helped to relieve the monotony. However our duties were quite exacting, particularly because of the fire alarm gong, beyond whose sound we dared not venture. The shining little engine, "Bald Eagle," and the three tank cars stood in front of the office. The big gong would strike a box number which indicated the location of the fire. I would rush to the engine and blow five short blasts of the whistle, and the crew and track men would stampede to the train. Within a minute the train would start. He who missed getting aboard had an account to settle with the "Old Man." The train, built to hug the track which was graded for a maximum speed of twenty- five miles an hour, would roll around those ten-degree curves at a rate as high as fifty-seven miles an hour— a veritable demon whose smoke stack would
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