High Speed Rail Redux

I frequently see articles in various news sources about the controversies of building high-speed rail in this country. The proponents argue that, rather than getting on an airplane, the lines will provide much easier and more pleasant ways to travel between distant cities. High-speed rail will rejuvenate outlying areas along the route that will see a new wave of investment in housing and business. Critics argue that high-speed rail will never pay for itself. People much prefer to drive or fly. If too many stops are planned along the route, the line will no longer be high-speed.  And because passenger rail is now run by Amtrak, a government-owned corporation, high-speed rail will turn into a taxpayer boondoggle.

It's worth remembering that long before the current debate, the U.S. had many "high-speed" passenger lines run by private railroad companies. These lines were profitable even as automobiles became the preferred mode of local transportation.

Perhaps one of the most famous of these early high-speed trains was the 20th Century Limited, operated by the New York Central Railroad between New York City and Chicago.  The service was inaugurated in 1902 and ran for 65 years, finally being discontinued in 1967.

In the early days of the 20th Century Limited, it took 20 hours to make the overnight run. By the 1930s, the time had been reduced to 16 hours. The train left New York City at 6:00PM Eastern time and arrived in Chicago at 9:00 AM Central time the next morning. The train consisted of Pullman sleeping cars, a dining car, a postal car, and a baggage-club car - usually nine or ten cars per train. Passengers entered and left the cars over specially-designed red carpets, giving rise to the expression "the Red Carpet treatment". Men were given carnation boutonniers and the women perfume when they boarded. Everything was meant to convey taste, efficiency, and good service.

NYC RR J3-a Hudson by Henry Dreyfuss

The trains became decidedly more beautiful in 1938 with the advent of the streamlined trains of industrial designer, Henry Dreyfuss. The powerful Hudson-class locomotives oozed an impression of power and speed, even when standing still. Compared to the brick-like design of today's Amtrak engines, the Dreyfuss-designed trains made people feel they were partaking in something special.

The 20th Century Limited, like the European Orient Express, became an iconic image for American culture and was used as a backdrop in many films including Hitchcock's North by Northwest. Hard to imagine a similar movie on the Acela.  The 20th Century Limited was only one of dozens of "named trains" that crisscrossed the country in the middle of the last century. The ghosts of some of those trains now reside in the few long-distance Amtrak trains that make their way (usually slowly due to outdated trackage and equipment) between distant cities .

I, for one, would like to see high-speed rail brought back into wide usage in this country. While some argue that it is a waste of resources, the future belongs to fast, efficient transportation with a low-carbon footprint. Most of the rest of the industrialized world gets it - the last century's transportation options will not be adequate for the coming century. A little classy design by a modern-day Dreyfuss would also be much appreciated.  Oh yes, and bring back the Red Carpet.

The Hindenburg Disaster

I came across some newsreel footage from the National Archives (via the Internet Archives) that show the disaster of the Hindenburg crash in Lakehurst, NJ on May 6, 1937.  This newsreel gives you some idea of what an 800 foot long airship looks like in flight. Ironically, the Hindenburg crashed exactly one year to the day following its maiden flight in 1936.

The interior of the airship was beautifully appointed as you can see in the photographs below.  At one point, it even carried an aluminum grand piano, although it was later removed to allow more room for passengers.

The Hindenburg had just completed its first Berlin - New York voyage of the 1937 season.  Due to bad weather, the airship had to idle for some hours before landing in Lakehurst, NJ (at the Naval Air Station which had mooring towers for large airships).  Everything was normal in the landing until the hydrogen-filled dirigible suddenly exploded near the tail section.  The entire craft was consumed in a minute and 35 of the 97 people on board were killed.  The images of the explosions shocked the world which had rarely witnessed a disaster unfolding in front of the cameras.  The cause of the explosion has never been determined.

Today, with video in our cellphones and with all our portable video cameras, capturing events as they happen is not nearly so rare an occurrence.  That doesn't mean that disaster is any easier to take now than it was on the Hindenburg's final day.

Inns and Inns

It had been a long day on the road: twelve hours and still going even after the sun faded in the west.  I checked the Accomodations list on my dashboard GPS and saw that there was a Hampton Inn up ahead at the next exit.  I had never stayed there but I liked most of the dozens of others in that chain of hotels where I had stayed on previous trips.  I drove up under the well-lit portico and leveraged myself out of the driver's seat. It was getting harder and harder to drive this far.  I might need to rethink these Power Drives.

The automatic double-doors opened reluctantly and I went into the lobby and scanned for the desk - on the left this time.  There was one lone clerk standing behind the counter.  College student, most likely, on the the night shift.  I asked about a room with a queen-sized bed.  The clerk typed something and said they had several (smoking or non-smoking?).  The rate was $109.  I asked if they had an AAA rate?  More typing (you would think she would know by now).  In fact, the AAA rate was $98.  There was also an AARP rate, a veteran's rate, and five other rates if you knew the Magic Words.  I took the encoded room key and went up to my room.  Same layout as a thousand other rooms.  But at least I could go to bed and drift off to sleep...

[Enter right: stage fog blowing across black space]

In my dream, I was bouncing...hard.  The stagecoach I was riding in had no springs.  Coach springs hadn't been invented yet?  There was barely even a road.  Just some little saplings that had been cut down and laid crosswise across the muck to keep the wooden wheels from sinking even further than they already were.  Dimly, I remembered (through the fog of my dream) that these were called corduroy roads.  I was crammed in the tiny box with twelve other passengers.  We all smelled of three days of body odor, and small talk had long since vanished.  It was pitch black, not even a moon.  I was glad that the driver upon the box seat had been over these roads dozens of times before.

We had set out from New York City for Boston three days ago and we were almost half-way there.  This bone-rattling so-called road we were on at the moment was, however, better than the swamps we had driven through for most of the journey.  We even had to get out and push the coach several times to free it from the muck.

Finally, at eleven, we stopped in front of the Sign of the Cock Inn.  It was a two-storied hovel with a shed out back but at least it was warm and dry inside and the night was getting cold.  We all peeled ourselves out of the coach and headed inside to make arrangements with the innkeeper for the night's lodgings.  I was lucky enough to be first to the bar where he was serving hard ale to a local.

I asked if he had a bed for the night?  Yes, he had one spot left in a four-man bed upstairs.  That meant I had to sleep with three strangers with the bed bugs and their snoring and probably lice.  I asked if he had anything else?  He told me I was welcome to roll my blanket out in front of the fireplace on the barroom floor.  I could see in the dim firelight that there were already a dozen lumps laying on the hard boards in front of the fire.  I told him I would take the spot in the bed.  At least it was soft.

I didn't even ask him what the rate was.  I already knew.  It was set by the colony's legislature.  So was the price of all the drinks, as were the prices for stabling the horses.  Everyone thought this was a good thing.  No gouging tired travelers who had been on the road all day.  No preferential rates for the gentry rather than the common, honest man.  This was what a colonial government should be doing.  It was only fair.  There had been an innkeeper recently that had demanded more than the legal rate and he was arrested and fined.

I dragged myself up to the little room upstairs to crawl into the straw-mattressed bed.  I had to wake the other three sleepers to get them to move over enough to allow me a space.  I laid down, fully-clothed, and tried to ignore the concert from my snoring bedmates to get some sleep.
____________

In fact, my little dream was more-or-less the reality of travel in 1760.  It took five or six days to get from New York City to Boston.  The roads were poor to non-existent (imagine the lesser roads). The governments did, indeed, regulate the room rates.  People often shared the same bed or slept on the floor.  No two inns were the same, as they were all family-owned and operated businesses.  Sometimes the inns might be better, sometimes worse but all had to take in travelers and provide a place for them to sleep indoors if they could pay for the "privilege". I think of all this when I see the Inn part of the logo in the Hampton Inn or Holiday Inn.  Inns?  I don't think so.  More like palaces by colonial standards. The technology of travel by road and putting people up for the night has come a very long way.  Personally, I prefer an air-conditioned, private room (non-smoking and away from the ice machine, if you don't mind).