Radio Script #416

Little Talks on Common Things

April 12, 1959

Whenever I acquire any new information about Maine’s narrow gauge railroads, I want to share it with you on this program. Railroad men are well acquainted with a monthly magazine called “Trains”, published 1n Milwaukee. In 1940 the business manager of that magazine who, like all the rest of its staff, is a true railroad fan, chartered a train on a Maine narrow gauge road for the price of $35. The man, Robert E. Adams, was then living at Hightstown, when :~~ came to my native town of Bridgton to get a ride on one of the nation’s last remaining narrow gauge lines.

In 1940 the old steam locomotives were no longer used on the Bridgton and Saco River Railroad. The single daily train was a gasoline powered car hauling usually one lone freight car behind it. The Maine Central had taken over the little narrow gauge in 1915 and had milked it dry, taking out substantial revenues and putting back nothing. As late as 1921 the B & SR had net operating revenue of $23,000 and paid a 20% dividend on its common stock.

It is said that in the eight years that the Maine Central owned the B & SR, the big road recovered in dividends more than its original investment in the little railroad. When the Maine Central decided to abandon the narrow gauge, the town of Bridgton took it over and ran it until its final abandonment on September 7, 1941. The town was therefore operating the daily gasoline powered train when Mr. Adams sought to ride on it in 1940.

It was a warm summer afternoon when Mr. Adams stopped at the little depot in Bridgton Village and inquired about the train. “It’s down at the Junction”, he was told, “and won’t leave there until 6:18 tonight.” By the “Junction” his informant meant Bridgton Junction, an uninhabited location a mile south of Hiram Village, where the narrow gauge connected with the Mountain Division of the Maine Central. Now let us have Mr. Adams’ own words as to what happened.

“A dirt road led to the Junction, rutted and full of chuckholes, as a disused country road is apt to be. Our best time over that obstacle course proved insufficient, for just as we drove up to the station, the gas car pulled out for its run back to Bridgton. We watched it plow slowly through the weeds, conjuring up visions of the days when capacity trains made every connection with the Maine Central, but now the idle, weed-choked yards were no longer busy with laborers breaking bulk freight for transfer to the boxcars, flats, gondolas and tankers of the narrow gauge. We drove slowly back to Bridgton in the gathering dusk.”

Determined to get a ride on the B & SR, Mr. Adams stayed overnight in Bridgton, and the next morning went again to the depot. There he found that the gasoline car had broken down and there would be no train that day. Maurice Heath who, when I knew him, was just a clerk to Manager Joe Bennet at the Maine Central depot, had become by 1940 the Treasurer and General Manager of the road. He told Mr. Adams that, whenever the gas car broke down, mail and express was usually brought in by trucks, and if there were any passengers, which wasn’t often, they had to shift for themselves. It was true, said Heath, that the road still had two steam locomotives, one of which was occasionally fired up, but it was used only for such rare occasions as campers’ specials or chartering by private parties.

About that time another man whom I well remember from my boyhood days showed up at the depot. He was Lester Ames, the 1940 President of the B & SR. Mr. Adams told Ames that he had never had any experience chartering a train and that anyhow he didn’t have the money to indulge in any such rich man’s luxury, but he did very much want a ride on the B & SR. Ames said, “Well, we frequently rent our train for fan trips and other outings for $75.”

Mr. Adams said such a price was far out of his reach. “Well”, said Ames, “on occasions we have rented to private parties for $50.” Mr. Adams explained that his supply of cash would not meet that price, and he couldn’t stay in Bridgton, where he had no acquaintance, long enough to round up any more money. So Lester Ames finally said “Once in a great while we do rent a locomotive and one car for $35.” Sensing that $35 was as low as Ames would go, Mr. Adams said, “I’ll rent your train for $35, if you will agree to allow me to send you a check for it when I get home next week.”

“Certainly”, replied Ames, “that will be fine.” And the President of the road walked away without asking for references or even securing Mr. Adams’ name or address. Not a single paper of agreement did Mr. Adams sign. Now let us turn again to Adams’ own words.

“It seemed a matter of mere minutes before the doors at the end stall of the engine house were opened, and desperate banging emanated from within. Smoke began curling from the stack. By the time I reached the locomotive a roaring fire was blazing in the firebox and the engineer-fireman was starting to coal her up. Soon steam began to form and the engineer backed old No. 8 out of the stall into the daylight for comprehensive oiling and inspection.”

Mr. Adams then told how the locomotive was hooked on to a lone passenger coach, the Adams’ wire-haired terrier placed on one of its seats, while Mr. and Mrs. Adams climbed into the cab with the engineer, and then with Mr. Adams himself at the throttle, the train got under way for its 16 mile run to Bridgton Junction. Here, in part, is Mr. Adams’ account of the trip down to the Junction.

“At Sandy Creek the hamlet was somnolent, the crossing deserted. Yet here, on January 12, 1883, more than two hundred people had welcomed the arrival of the first train with lavish display of flags and bunting and a salute of rifles. South Bridgton showed nothing but crab grass and weeds, yet half a mile from the station, a hundred years before the coming of the railroad, had lived Bridgton’s wealthiest family. A little farther on we stopped for water — not water for the engine, but delicious ice-cold spring water to quench our thirst. As we went on, Ingalls Road and Perley’s Mill appeared about to be reclaimed by the very wilderness from which they had been built in years gone by. The reasons for the existence of stations at these remote points were lost in the oblivion of dense undergrowth and unrecorded history. When we came to Hancock Pond the engineer asked us, “Care to take a swim?” Although the water looked tempting, we declined. At last we came to the summit just before the approach to Bridgton Junction. We had been told to watch out for the track gang. As we rounded a curve we saw them — three men, but they weren’t working hard on the track. They sat fishing from the railroad trestle that crossed a stream. I blew a sharp blast on the whistle, the track gang scrambled to safety and we rolled into Bridgton Junction.”

Mr. Adams says the trip back to Bridgton was uneventful. “We drifted into Bridgton yard, swaying on the uneven throat switches, and rolled to a stop with a final sigh of vacuum brakes. There was no one to greet us at the station, no passengers to disembark except one lonely and bewildered dog. I helped the engineer get the locomotive on to the turntable, line her up for the engine house, and soon with a final wisp of steam, No.8 disappeared within, to be bedded down for an indeterminate number of days and nights.”

Mr. Adams found the station locked and no one around. With no opportunity to thank Heath or Ames, or make more detailed arrangements about payment, Mr. Adams could only take his departure. Immediately upon his arrival home he sent a check for $35, just as had been agreed. The reply he received from the railroad is a gem. By 1940, under town ownership, the name had been changed from B & SR to Bridgton and Harrison Railway Company. The name was a misnomer, because the section between Bridgton and Harrison had already been abandoned and the track taken up. Only the original main line from Bridgton to Bridgton Junction remained.

So it was on the letterhead of the Bridgton and Harrison Railway Company that Mr. Adams at his home in Hightstown, New Jersey received this letter dated August 10, 1940.

“Dear Sir: I wonder if you are the party that hired our locomotive August 6th. I did not get a chance to see you after the trip. Yours truly, Maurice E. Heath, General Manager.”

A number of people have asked me about the route of a narrow gauge line much nearer Waterville than the Bridgton and Saco River road. Just where did the Wiscasset, Waterville and Farmington Road go, and why did some people call it the Wiscasset and Albion? As I have explained in Kennebec Yesterdays and Remembered Maine, the original plan was to connect with the Canadian Pacific somewhere in the vicinity of Greenville, thus making railroad connection between Wiscasset and Quebec; hence the original charter was issued to a company called the Wiscasset and Quebec Railroad. When the company could not obtain permission to cross the Maine Central tracks at Burnham, a new plan was formed to run the road via Waterville to Farmington, and eventually on to the Canadian border. As it turned out, neither of those two grandiose plans could be financed. The road did reach Winslow and plans were made to bridge the Kennebec to the Waterville side. Bridge abutments were also constructed at some of the streams between Waterville and Farmington, but no track was ever laid beyond Winslow.

Now what confuses many people — even some who remember the little railroad in its operating days — is that what was intended for the main line turned into a branch line, and the early branch became part of the main line.

There was a common track from Wiscasset to Weeks Mills, where the original main line turned west and ended at Winslow, while a branch continued north to a terminus at Albion. Because the plan to cross the Kennebec at Winslow never materialized, the line into Winslow became less and less profitable, and the regular schedule of trains was between Wiscasset and Albion, with the line from Weeks Mills to Winslow turning into a branch line. In fact, the Weeks Mills to Winslow branch was abandoned more than fifteen years before the final abandonment of the run from Wiscasset to Albion.

There is no cause for the dispute among persons who get into heated discussion concerning which side of China Lake the railroad traversed. Both disputants are right. The little narrow gauge ran on both sides of China Lake. This is how it happened.

The main line, after reaching Weeks Mills, went straight on to China Village, touching the lake shore on the west side just before reaching the village, then continuing to Albion. The branch line, on the other hand, turning west at Weeks Mills, entered South China and went up the’ east side of the lake to East Vassalboro, following the lake shore closely all the way.From East Vassalboro the railroad pushed on to North Vassalboro and Winslow.

On the main line the little narrow gauge known as the W, W & F had twelve stations, in this order: Wiscasset, Sheepscot, Alna Center, Head Tide, Whitefield, Prebles, North Whitefield, Coopers Mills, Windsor Station, Weeks Mills, China and Albion. The branch stations were Weeks Mills, South China, East Vassalboro, North Vassalboro and Winslow.

The same issue of the magazine Trains that contains Mr. Adams’ story of his chartering of a Bridgton & SR train has a photograph of No. 8 locomotive of the W, W & F tilted on its side in deep snow, and the legend under the picture reads: “At 7:23 A.M. on June 15, 1933 No.8 of the two-foot gauge W W & F jumped the iron near Whitefield, Me and that was the end of it.”

An old railroad man has asked me if I recall any big snow storm on or near the fifteenth of June in 1933 or any other year. Of course I don’t. The explanation is really easy. The wreck did indeed occur on June 15, but the picture must have been taken much later, perhaps even later than the winter of 1933-34. That wreck was indeed the end of the little railroad, and right where it was wrecked the little engine lay until the rising price of scrap metal in the late 1930’s made its salvage profitable.

Year: 1959