I have come to really like narrow gauge as a part of a larger scene. I've started a concept for narrow gauge (2') still running in Maine as a working railroad in more modern times; I would love any thoughts on the possibility of this railroad actually working--could railroad history have gone this way? The narrow gauge will be a significant part of the layout, along with the interchange with standard gauge. The line's sense of history--and the tourist trade--insure that the older locomotives and rolling stock still survive.
So--does this seem plausible--and if not, how can I make it more plausible?
Name of Company: Sandy River, Wiscasset, and Farmington
Gauge: 2 foot
Period Operational: 1870’s to the present
Motto: “Two Feet Wide and One Hundred Years long, and growing”
History/Description:
When the Maine Central attempted to prevent the Sandy River and Rangely Lakes from linking up with the Wiscasset, Waterville, and Farmington, the court case started getting ugly—until demands from the people of backwoods Maine spoke loudly enough to force the legislature to act, and the link-up was forced through. In addition, railroad service was in so much demand, that the legislature passed a law providing that “The right of way, and all buildings necessary for the operation, of 2 foot gauge railroads, shall not be taxed.”
That act insured that the 2-foot gauge railroads would have a place for a long time. Although a law like that sounds odd, it was a sure-fire way to encourage the growth of the little trains into parts of Maine that could only grow with rail service. Among other things, it encouraged potential stockholders, who would know that the big lines wouldn’t encroach, then take over, as soon as it looked like there was a major profit to be made.
Additionally, one engineer proved that it was very possible to run these narrow gauge trains at speeds in excess of a mile per minute. (OTL, one engineer routinely ran at these speeds, but the ride was very rough.)
Although the ride was rough, getting from one town to another at this sort of speed was exhilarating—and the President of the Line decided to take a chance. With profit coming in nicely—for now, anyway—a portion of the line was upgraded, and a few coaches were modified for a more comfortable ride. The “Waterville Flyer” was a huge success, especially with parlor car service added.
In the days right after the Great War, the line was fortunate enough to hire several de-mobilized submariners—including a few engineers. As a result, when someone suggested diesel locomotives for certain purposes, there were already experts in place to run them. No one ever thought they would replace steam for most purposes—but for switching in the yard, they might be useful, simply because they could be started in moments, used for an hour or two, and turned off.
A pair of war surplus diesel engines were obtained, dirt cheap, and soon were mounted on improvised flatcars, shunting cars around the Waterville yard. Of course, open-air locomotives were not the most practical in Maine, but nicely enclosed, they seemed useful enough. The clunky boxcabs were indeed slow—but also reeked of modernity and progress. That was a mixed blessing in Northern Maine—the locals accepted change but slowly—yet valued thriftiness as well.
The boxcabs were used mainly at smaller yards and plants—ones that needed their own switchers, yet might only use them for a few hours at a time. They also needed to be stored in a heated engine house in winter—diesels don’t do well in sub-zero temperatures. More often, they simply weren’t employed in the bitter cold; traffic in their yards was also slower.
As the line grew, both in length and traffic volume, there was soon a need for either double headed trains, or bigger locomotives. The occasional double-header made good economic sense, but as the loads increased, the need for locomotives bigger than the 2-6-2’s became glaringly obvious. At the same time, replacing several hundred miles of track with heavier rail would cost, and cost a LOT.
Even as diesels were being contemplated for switching, so too were far bigger, better road engines. Three basic ideas were contemplated.
The first option was to order some fairly normal 4-8-2 steam locomotives, which would increase pulling power by a third without increasing axel loading.
The second option was to order one or more Mallets, in a 2-6-6-4 configuration, for heavy freight (or what passes for heavy freight on a 2 foot gauge line.)
The third choice almost didn’t get brought up—but Beyer and Peacock and Company was hoping to get into the American market, and offered to build a pair of Garratt locomotives at a good price. (It turns out that they offered to build them at a very slight loss to get American exposure.)
All three options were executed between 1919 and 1927. Of them, the 4-8-2 was a fine locomotive, but, in places, had some difficulty with the tight curves. Still, with good power and excellent reliability, they hauled plenty of freight and passengers over the years.
The Mallet was a daring choice, supposing that traffic would suffice to support such a costly investment—but it also paid off nicely. Successfully hauling huge loads right into the 21st century, the first two Mallets were joined by several more over the years. They, however, needed a wye or new turntable at each terminus; they were too long for the existing turntables. Thus, their runs could only terminate at certain locations.
The Garrets were, in many ways, the best heavy locomotive for the system—powerful, able to manage tight turns, reliable, and fast. But—being imported, maintaining them posed a potential problem.
Garratts did have the key advantage of being fully bi-directional—no new turntables needed. Another pair was ordered later. The massive capacity and versatility of these locomotives worked wonders through the years of the Second World War, as heavy loads might need to be taken anywhere on the system.
The last set of special locomotives was the Baldwin 4-6-2 Pacific express locomotives. The big, high stepping engines could exceed 75 miles per hour on the straightaway, and ran smoother than the smaller Prairie 2-6-2, taking curves at a faster clip.
As the line grew, reaching southern Quebec, and also extending into Vermont in places, some were referring to it as the “North Central,” and the name change became official in May of 1928.
In mid 1929, the North Central was growing ever more prosperous, and northern Maine along with it. But, two great threats were looming, one seen, one unseen…
Next: Surviving the Depression and the Automobile…
In the 1920’s the automobile was becoming a significant means of transportation—but roads in Maine were far from the best. Sure, a motorcar had its advantages—but also moved at most, 30 mph, was slowed down by rain, snow, and worse, MUD. And trucks—useful locally, but not so much long distance. (With a better—and growing—railroad network, less money is going to roads. And the taxes the railroad would have paid on its land otherwise—aren’t getting paid; the railroad’s exemption has been sustained.)
And, at one point, a passenger paid the railroad to transport his car—and soon enough, many passenger trains have a flat car or two with motorcars—or even trucks.
Also as the 20’s moved on, double track mainlines started to appear. But—each track was signaled for two way traffic, so that the express trains could proceed with fewer delays if one train was running behind schedule, and so that longer, slower freights didn’t slow the traffic as much. In short, the North Central Railroad was acting just like a standard gauge line…or a “broad gauge line,” as the Locals in Northern Maine called the bigger trains.
Unlike many railroads, the North Central has avoided excessive bank loans, preferring instead to build up its cash reserves, then simply write a check for major purchases like a new locomotive. In many cases, the funds are invested in the booming stock market until it’s time to make the purchase. At the end of September, 1929, the CEO cashed in every stock the line ownd, preparatory to ordering 3 new Mallets, a class of 6 2-4-4 Forneys, 2 more diesel switchers of an improved, yet experimental design, and 4 new high speed express steamers.
The railroad, as a result, had massive cash and gold reserves when the depression hit—and no deadly loans sitting around ready to crush the line at a banker’s whim. Unless the depression is unusually long and severe, the company should survive—perhaps even thrive. No one will be buying Detroit’s latest. And, if coal gets too costly, steam locomotives can burn wood—and if Maine has a lot of anything, it’s wood…
One side effect of the crash: A few locomotives that were stored for future use, years ago, and about due for the scrap heap, were , instead, shunted aside, where they could be used again if needed. In particular, the small, vertical boiler Climax that’s so popular with railfans and Hollywood moviemakers alike would never have survived to the present day—but fortunately, the little engine was in the back of the engine house, behind other reserve locomotives.
Business fell off as the depression set in, but the road managed to keep running—the reserves of cash intended to purchase new locomotives and rolling stock kept the line through the various glitches. And with adequate locomotives and rolling stock, wreck damage could be handled as the workforce became available, rather than either rushing it at ruinous expense, or cutting back service. This allowed the line to maintain decent levels of service, although cut back when appropriate. In some cases, railbusses filled in on less used lines—but no lines were abandoned. But—profits, though slim, never quite vanished altogether.
Even in hard times, there’s people with funds for vacations, grand hotels letting rooms for low prices—in short, some tourist trade for the little trains. Adding more parlor cars helped draw trade, and wasn’t an overly expensive job. Regular passenger coaches could have their interiors gutted, and finer fittings installed. With names like Rangely, Wiscasset, Sandy River, and other towns along the line, the parlor cars were a great success. In the mid 20’s, dining cars had been added, though the smaller coaches meant that dining was not at the same level as on the palace cars; they were essentially snack cars with decent food. The improvements made the little railroad an even more pleasant way to travel than before—and vastly superior to road transport.
Likewise, people always need food and lumber—and the little line brought both of those to the city in abundance. In short, the Great Depression was a hard time for the North Central, but it came through in a reasonably strong position. By 1939, traffic was slowly growing, but the cost of locomotives and rolling stock was still low, so several multi-purpose locomotives were ordered, including 3 modern diesel-electrics for switching, and also for helper service in a few spots.
Also in the 1930’s, railfanning brought passengers to the little trains, bringing in more needed revenue.
For helper service, diesels could be almost ideal. A helper might only be needed once or twice per day, for a long heavy train on a hill, yet a steam locomotive takes a long time to fire up, and just as long to cool down. A diesel can be turned on in a matter of minutes, and turned off likewise. In winter, it should have a heated engine house; they are notoriously difficult to start in the biter cold. The use of the diesels for tasks like this is another savings. And as one of the first railroads to use a limited amount of diesel power, the North Central Railroad diesels are some of the best in the country…
In fact, by the mid to late 1930’s, railroad men from several standard gauge lines are paying visits, learning about the practical uses of the new technology, and paying consulting fees.
Through these hard times, the North Central made some money—and management wisely plowed most of the profits into keeping the line in outstanding shape, knowing that, when prosperity returned, the North Central could be well poised to take full advantage of it…
Coming up: War Clouds gather…
As War Clouds gathered in Europe, it did nothing but good for the North Central. American industry slowly started revving up, and with it, the demand for wood, stone, and food. Additionally, the growth spurred more tourist revenue. Even the US Army Railroad experts came to take a look; 2’ gauge trench railways had done great things in the previous war.
The railroad also spent some of its vast reserve of political capital—more of the money for things like the CCC and similar programs went to the railroad than to highways. And—roads, bridges, and the like were built so as to provide feeders for the railroads, not to compete with them.
And then: December 7, 1941. Total War. By late Sunday afternoon or early evening (reports vary) the senior officer of the line available had announced that there would be no charge for men traveling to recruitment centers to join up. Also, as men started to form lines at the recruitment centers, volunteers brought food, soda and water (and beer, of course)
The initial panic added some of the strangest cars seen in Northern Maine yet. One of the line’s senior engineers was also a logistics officer in the Maine National Guard, and “arranged” for a dozen .50 cal machine guns and a pair of 37 mm anti-tank guns to be deployed for defending against a German invasion or air raid.
(Note: invasion and air raid fears were rampant, even in places that were simply impossible to invade. There were rumors of Japanese carriers coming up the Red River!)
The 37 mm guns were less than practical for a 2’ gauge railroad line, but the machine guns were hastily mounted. 2 flat cars each mounted 2 twin mounts, and the other 4 guns were deployed at various critical locations. (Accounts vary as to where, and at least one ended up on a pintel mount on a caboose.)
As the invasion scare faded, the guns were quietly placed in storage, and the flat cars parked in a sheltered location, the guns under canvas. The flat car with a 37 mm cannon mounted to it, complete with outriggers, as only accidentally re-discovered, along with the second cannon, and the machine guns, much later. This equipment was the basis for several scenes in the 1960’s comedy “Invasion” about the early days of the war.
US Army “Transporters” quickly prove to be ideal—take to the port and slap onto a ship, or standard gauge train. Maine’s products were being transported quite inexpensively, using cheap coal, produced with electricity from Maine’s abundant dams.
Next: Into the post-war era...
