The Wreck of Old Number 9
by C. W. (Bill) Smith
I
struck a virtual goldmine of wild
tales and improbable events when I
became curator of the Terrell
County Museum. There is always a
clamor for the latest episode in our lit-
tle horse opera. I may have a way with
words, but even I am amazed!
Sometimes I run up against cherished
local folklore.
My first inkling that I might be in
trouble with the train wreck story was
when a good friend came to the
Museum one day and read me the riot
act. He was incensed that I had
"butchered" his grandfather’s favorite
tale. I thought at first that he was kid-
ding, but unfortunately, he was serious.
His grandfather had been a long-time
railroad employee and had cherished a
locally famous tale of death and
destruction...the Great Train Wreck of
1905. I had found that tale in our volu-
minous history book, but when I
researched it, the first inaccuracy was
the date. There was no passenger train
wreck in 1905, but there was one in
1902. It even made the front page of
many newspapers around the U. S.,
maybe even the world, as far as I knew.
So, I used the most trusted sources I
could find and retold the actual story
from historic news articles. No one
alive was even born in that time, so
period newspapers provided the best
source of information at my disposal.
The historic facts were every bit as dra-
matic and filled with pathos and horror
as the folktale that had been simmering
and recooking for over a hundred
years.
In our case, the most celebrated sto-
ryteller in our community was a very
interesting fellow named W. J. "Willie"
Banner. He was a master storyteller, a
local rancher born and bred in
Sanderson and a baseball aficionado.
Banner was a scout for the St. Louis
Cardinals because Sanderson, a base-
ball town, was brimming with talent
and even had a semi-professional team.
Some of our residents even played in
the minor leagues.
So, master storyteller Willie Banner
was the best at relating the horrific
story of a drunken engineer in 1905
sending his train load of Chinese
26
detainees to a fiery death near Maxon
Siding, 25 miles west of Sanderson.
The only problem was, it is impossible
to find that story in the media of the
times.
In Willie Banner’s account, the
events took place in 1905. The engi-
neer and his train roared into
Sanderson late, and the drunken engi-
neer slammed hard on the brakes,
bringing the train to a screeching halt
and throwing some of its passengers
into the aisles. According to Banner,
some 300 illegal Chinese, a trainload,
were being sent to San Francisco to be
shipped back to China. Reprimanded
by the conductor, the tipsy engineer
roared away, greatly angered at the
dress-down by the conductor, the boss
of the train. Banner says the train was
going at top speed (possibly 100 miles
an hour) to make up lost time, when it
reached a hairpin curve just a few miles
east of Maxon Siding. For some rea-
son, the train left the track and all the
cars burst into flame, incinerating all its
passengers and crew. At this point,
most of Banner’s listeners were reeling
and gasping at the horror of immola-
tion, suffering and death. It was a great
tale, and apparently it got even better
with each retelling!
But, it was mostly invention and sto-
rytelling at its best. Instead, the actual
account in newspapers of the time was
equally horrific. The only account of a
fiery train wreck which I could find in
that period occurred in the same spot,
but three years earlier in 1902. And in
the true account there was not even
one Chinese involved.
Train #9 was typical for 1902 trav-
elers. It consisted of a baggage car, an
express car (like having a UPS or
FEDEX truck on the train) a coach and
a chair car. In that day, the railroad
would promote tourism and, much like
travel agencies of today, would book
whole cars to people in a community
for group tours. On this train, there
were tourist cars from St. Louis,
Cincinnati and Washington, D.C.
Also on the train was a Standard
Pullman car with private rooms and
sleeping berths. To complete the train
there was a private business or observa-
Cenizo
First Quarter 2018
tion car on the rear,
the Pere Marquette,
owned by a Mr.
Thomas Ryan, an
influential
Wall
Street capitalist and
first vice president of
the noted Morton
Trust Company,
who was traveling
with family and friends to San
Francisco.
According to newspaper sources, the
train was late but there was no evidence
that the engineer or the fireman were
under the influence of alcohol or any-
thing else. By the position of the wreck-
age, it was estimated that the train was
traveling at about forty-five miles per
hour when it left the tracks, hardly top
speed for an engine which could easily
race along at 100 miles per hour.
At 3:30 a.m. on March 7, 1902,
Sunset Limited Train #9 approached
Maxon, twenty-five miles west of
Sanderson, coming down a long incline
and entering a hairpin curve. At that
point the engine, tender and the first six
cars of baggage, express and coaches
with sleeping passengers, hurtled from
the tracks and piled into an unbeliev-
able mass of twisted metal and splin-
tered timbers. The tourist cars and the
Pullman derailed but remained upright
and on the roadbed. The Pere
Marquette remained on the rails and
was unscathed. The cause of the wreck
was undetermined, but it was thought
at first to be due to rail spreading or a
broken rail.
A catastrophic wreck at Baxter’s
Curve eight miles east of Sanderson a
few years earlier (but with few casual-
ties) was due to sabotage of the rails, but
there was no evidence of that at Mast
Curve, which was later named for the
engineer who was killed in this 1902
wreck.
Before anyone knew what was hap-
pening, a gas tank on one of the cars
ruptured and in seconds the wreckage
was engulfed in flames. The all-wood
passenger cars of the time used gas-
lighting for illumination, they were like
time bombs, waiting to go off.
The clerks in the baggage and
express cars escaped death but were
severely burned or scalded by the
escaping steam.
The greatest carnage was in the for-
ward coaches. Sleeping passengers
were killed outright or trapped in the
flaming wreckage. Despite the heroic
efforts of the uninjured passengers,
many passengers in the first two cars
were doomed to a fiery death.
Accounts say the survivors raced
about in a panic with tatters of burned
clothing hanging from their bodies, try-
ing to save the injured. When the
upright cars began to smolder and
ignite, passengers ran to the Pere
Marquette and pushed it away from
the roaring inferno.
Capitalist Ryan and his associates
were safe, but a first report said that
they had perished in the flames. This
caused the eastern stock markets to dip
until the truth was known.
The death toll from the grisly acci-
dent was never determined accurately,
but the official toll stood at twelve dead
and about seventy-five injured. All but
the bodies of the engineer and fireman
were consumed by the flames, making
a count difficult. Survivors claimed the
death toll was much higher, but the
railroad never acknowledged a higher
toll.
Mr. Ryan reported to Southern
Pacific President E. H. Harriman that
he didn’t believe the accident was due
to excessive speed. He examined the
wreckage and felt that the engine had
failed in some way, but the devastation
was so great he couldn’t determine the
actual cause.
To add a final tragedy to a terrible
story, seeing the glow of the inferno,
the track foreman at Maxon hopped
on his hand car and sped off to the
scene of the wreck. Along the way he