The Honeymoon Two Day Trip

The Chesapeake and Ohio's Railroad penetration of virgin mountain territory had the effect of throwing out of whack that nice balance of masses that nature contrived in the Alleghenies millenniums ago. Every once in a while, avalanching occurred at scattered points, particularly alone the Kanawha and the New River, where slopes had ben lacerated to widen the bench formation and embedded rock blasted to reduce the unfinished cuts.

Until early in February, 1873, the mountain capers, though bothersome, were unimportant, except for the expense and delay involved in clearing away acres and boulders. The didoes were taken in stride much as one takes ragamuffin pranks on All Hallows Eve. The management, however, was aware that with the arrival of the first thaw in West Virginia, where winters are relatively mild, avalanching would occur on a much greater scale. It had prepared itself for that eventuality.

The company's four work trains had been dispatched to assigned stations in mountain territory. These were manned by crews, skilled in all phases of railroad construction and repair, and directed, in each instance, by a construction engineer. The engineers were supposed to possess a kind of "sixth sense" for detecting the worst zone of trouble in much the same way that natives of the Rivers smell the suggestion of mistral in the tang of the air.

On the agenda, through train operation was programmed to start March . The line from Richmond was in service only as far as White Sulphur Springs, and the only other operation was out of Huntington, over a small stretch of line, to accommodate some limited local traffic needs.

Over the line along the New and Kanawha nothing was supposed to move, except work trains, when and if things started popping. Nevertheless, one coal trains, managed somehow to snake its way through to Richmond with a capacity load of bituminous from a point along the Kanawha where a mine had recently commenced operations. How it got through to Richmond was a mystery that was never explained.

Since it was hauling the first coal to move over the line, the train probably deserved some stir of interest at Richmond, but the only recognition accorded was from a bell, in the cupola of the C&O's old office at Sixteenth and Broad Streets, which pealed hosannas.

About three weeks later, however, there was a considerable stir of interest at Richmond over the mere incident of a bride and groom alighting from a C&O passenger car. The crowd at the depot heaved and swayed to give them passage and closed behind them as they passed. C&O personnel had no part in this turnout and for a very good reason. The entire official staff, at Richmond, and the engineers and work crews out on the line, had suffered a two-weeks' dither of excitement and consternation because of them.

In the interval between the arrival of the coal train and the arrival of the bridal couple, the pent-up resentment of the tortured mountains attained an explosive stage. Along an extensive front the mountains let loose their avalanches--huge ones. Rocks and boulders damaged rails and ties and buried parts of the roadway under dirt, stone and rubble to varying depths. Like Herculean, the C&O would have to be dug out anew.

The work train crews were prodded to prodigious efforts, running to as much as eighteen hours of labor without a wink of sleep. The prodding was done by the engineers who, in turn, were under pressure from the Richmond office. It was a relief to these engineers to see the telegraph line occasionally, go down with the slides, shutting off contact with Richmond.

Huntington (president of the C&O) was somewhat prophetic when he passed along word that the C&O had to be in full operation by March 1, "come hell or high water". Hell was already popping. High water was soon to follow with a rise in the New River--the highest since the surveys commenced, thought not at all comparable with the great flood of 1861.

Cincinnati newspapers beat the gun on Huntington's deadline for operations by reporting early in February that the road was already built and in service. Influenced by these accounts, an enterprising but over credulous C&O passenger agent at Cincinnati had some handbills printed, designed to attract passengers to the line.

Isaac Hobbs Merrill and the Ada Frances (Ann) Godfrey, residents of Bangor, Maine, had completed a leg of their wedding journey at Cincinnati early in February and were undecided where to go from there. They read in the Cincinnati papers articles about the C&O and the picturesque mountain terrain through which it had been built. It occurred to the bride that mountain scenery would furnish and ideal backdrop for a honeymoon and that riding a brand new railroad might be and adventure well worth relating to the folks down home in Maine.

The couple called on the Cincinnati passenger agent, arranged their transportation to Richmond, and embarked, February 6, aboard the streamer "Ohio No. 4," for Huntington, 150 miles up river, where they arrived the following evening. They checked in at Ware's Hotel and retired early for a good night's rest. The thought never once occurred to then that they might encounter greater hazards on the C&O than could be net with in darkest Africa or down the crocodile-infested Amazon in a shallow skiff.

From Huntington to Richmond was a scheduled two-day run, but it took the bride and groom two weeks to complete their eventful trip. The experienced five smash-ups and so many landslides they lost all count of then. For virtually the entire journey, the bride was prostrated and the groom was so busy ministering to here needs he never had a chance to peel for bed.

From Richmond, under date of Sunday 23, 1873, young Mr. Merrill penned a letter to his mother in Bangor. He wrote in a facetious vein, to avoid causing here undue alarm. His letter read as follows:

"My Dear Mother:

"Heavens and Earth such a terrible journey as we have had! Napoleon's retreat from Moscow contained hardships something like our . . .

"In Cincinnati the papers were filled with glowing accounts of the great 'Chesapeake & Ohio R.R..' to Richmond, Va. The magnificence of the scenery, the splendid railroad, etc. We both wanted to go to Richmond, so I went to see the Agents and they told us the route was open and ready for through travel, with all appliances for comfort on the way, except Pullman car.

"On their assurances and representations--we concluded to go by the route, so we left Cincinnati, Tuesday P.M. February 6th, at four o'clock on the Streamer 'Ohio No. 4' for Huntington, West Virginia, the terminus of the Chesapeake & Ohio Railroad on the Ohio River 150 miles above Cincinnati . . .

"Had delightful sail up the Ohio River to Huntington, that P.M. and the next (Friday). We didn't reach Huntington until seven o'clock Friday evening. We all had to stay there at 'Ware's Hotel' that night. Up at five next morning and left the famous city of Huntington, in C. & O. R. R. train at 7:30 Saturday morning 'for Richmond direct.' But the sequel will show how two weeks instead of two days elapsed before we entered this famous city.

"The train crept on very slowly (we thought, but it was chain-lightning speed compared with what followed) and at noon we were 50 miles at Charleston, the capital of the State of West Virginia.

"Conductor said the train would only go to Kanawha Falls that night--and that another faster train would leave Charleston at 6 P.M. and get to Kanawha Falls at 8 P.M. So we decided to stop at Charleston until 6 P.M. and see the 'Capital' city, and then go to the Falls by the 6 P.M. train. We left there at 6 P.M. and reach Kanawha Falls at 8 PM..

"Had a most dramatic experience crossing the Kanawha River below the Falls in a skiff that night, by moonlight--to an old house on the opposite shore, where we were to remain Sunday. Such a wild weird place, and such precipitous, tremendous cliffs and wild scenery.

Up at four next morning (Monday 10th) and back across the dashing river in a skiff by bright starlight at 5 AM.. Took train then for 'Richmond' (!) Aboard a passenger car at the rear of a train of 22 cars. Crept along very slowly thro' tunnels and along the precipitous side of lofty rocky cliffs, where it seemed as if the train must hang on by cohesive attraction, or as the boys say, 'by the eyebrows.' After crawling along thus six miles in two and three hours, and at a place in the 'New River Canyon' where the train seemed in midair--three cars went off the track! If we hadn't been going slow, all would have been dashed into the wild, whirling river below.

"On the edge of the shelf alongside our car, as the train stopped were three nitro-glycerine cans--one of them was full! Imagine the result if we had fallen upon them! Or if anything should accidentally strike them! A most unpleasant proximity.

"After starting along again, in this wild chasm where the hills seem rent asunder to permit the passage of the swift whirling river--the most remarkable gorge outside of the great Canyon of the Colorado to be found in this country--we soon came to the 'Hawks Nest,' a cliff ever more remarkable and peculiar than the others that form the unbroken wall of this New River Canyon. These walls are 500 to 800 feet high for a distance of 75 miles or more, and the New River--the most turbulent river I ever saw, not excepting the Charges River in the Isthmus of Panama, being like the rapids just above the Niagara Falls--fills the width of the base of the walls.

"Capt. Cabell Breckenridge, the construction engineer of this stupendous railroad work, was with us. The train crept along slowly until past lurch that threw us over the promiscuously, the train 'brought up' with a great shock. Four cars smashed all to pieces, and we all narrowly escaped serious injury. Ann frightened, and no wonder! Our trucks luckily escaped injury.

"By the merest accident or rather by the grace of God, the train was preserved from being hurled down the almost perpendicular mountain side into the seething river. We were directed to leave the car and walk around the wrecked train and get on the locomotive--which we did, after difficult climbing over rocks and thro' mud and filth. One man on the train was taking his wife's body to Richmond and had his little four year old girl with him. The coffin was up on the cowcatcher, we passengers crowded into the engine and tender, our baggage heaped up on the coal and wood, and thus we started again 'on to Richmond', leaving the wrecked cars on the track. The wounded children crying and no wonder poor Ann was frightened at our dangerous situation. After crawling along three miles further (railroad not ballasted, and the ties four and six feet apart!) we had another smashup! Three cars smashed up this time! No one hurt but all scared. Then had to get out as before and climb along thro' the mud and get on another engine was ahead of us and had all baggage brought along also and put on the tender, for we dared not have our valuable trunks out of our sight in that miserable country.

"Poor Ann kept up bravely but it was a trying and most dangerous time, as we fully expected to run off the track and be killed or wounded every minute. Thus we kept on, in extreme discomfort and danger, until we reached 'Bowyer's Ferry' that P.M. 25 miles from Kanawha Falls. No houses of any kind, only squalid log shanties filled with negroes and miserable white men. Train could go no further that day, so we had to stop there, but Mr. Wm. Baird, a Kentuckian and ex-rebel soldier, who is the telegraph operator there, had kindly provided a resting place for us in a caboose or box car.

"Then it rained hard, and all was mud (father will tell you about Virginia mud!) Nothing scarcely to eat. Squalid miserable wretched! Baird got some vile coffee (no milk), hoe cake and wretched dried beef for us, which was the best he could do. In that squalor we had to stay until Wednesday noon when a 'material' train was to leave Eastward. No knowing where we would bring up--nor caring so long as we got away and were progressing East--we left there in a nigger caboose, full of rough men and as dirty as a fourth rate hog-pen, and after encountering landslide after landslide that the men had to shovel out (often delaying us many hours), and after running off the track and smashing up car after car, which had to be pried off the track and tipped over the embankments, we finally, at night, had progressed some dozen miles. No place to stay in, only log huts filled with negroes, so we decided to keep on all night, wherever it went.

"Kept on all night running off track, smashing cars &c. until we became so used to it that we were not disturbed at any thing, only wondering (really) how soon we should be wounded or killed.

"One negro was killed. Next morning, (we had no sleep or rest) we came to a more formidable avalanche, where several acres had slid down the abrupt mountain side upon the track. Boulders had to be blasted and removed, and the herculean labor couldn't be finished for hours and hours. Another train came up behind us having a passenger car attached. The conductor came and escorted us back to that car, which was a trifle more comfortable, but not much.

"Poor Ann was very brave and calm all the time, not giving way, but human endurance is finite, and soon after we reached that passenger car, on Thursday noon (having been out since Monday A.M.) she fainted dead away. There was no brandy, whiskey, or any restorative of any kind to be obtained for love or money. I had some cologne left, and that was all. A kind-hearted negro started away, and after a long journey through the mud returned with a small quantity of weak camphor that he had unearthed in some cabin. He wouldn't allow me to pay him at all, and was attentive and kind offering his services continually. Finding the avalanche to be worse and worse--the earth sliding down as fast as dug out--I determined to get away from there somehow, as it seemed beyond endurance for Ann to remain another night in that dangerous and wretched place on the mud bank.

"Found an engine had to come up to the other side of the break ahead of us--so aided by the conductor and half dozen more men, we took Ann from a rude couch we had made for her in the mail car, and, carefully covering her with blankets and my railroad rug, we carried her in a blanket in the rain--a long distance, through and around the landslide where water and mud were knee-deep and put here up in the cab of the engine. Had trunks &c. also put there, on the tender. Away we all went and arrived at old man Atkinson's log house about 5 P.M. The only tolerable shanty for miles around. The old woman had promised a messenger sent ahead, that she would receive us, but when I got there she said she could possibly!

"I was desperate! But the old woman surrendered to my appeals, and I carried Ann from the locomotive in my arms and put her abed at once."

Fisk & Hatch, the New York bankers, continued young Merrill in his account of the Honeymoon Nightmare, and Gen. Wickham of Richmond, Gen. Echols, Mrs. Hatch and others were there on their way to Cincinnati on a tour of inspection of the Railroad. They all were kind, and offered to do anything possible for us. Mr. Hatch supplied me with choice brandy, and with that and some homeopathic remedies we had, Ann gradually recovered, after being sick abed for five days and night in that Irish cabin! From Thursday evening (13th) to Tuesday (18th).

"Road blockaded by earth avalanches, and no trains either way, after Fisk and Hatch left Friday--until Tuesday night. Telegraph lines had been down so long that the operator at Hinton was going home for a visit! Tuesday night a man arrived who had walked 22 miles from the Eastward, with orders form a 'material' train, there by us, to work its way East if possible, and help exhausted laborers there to clear track. Loaded up with negroes, &c. this 'forlorn hope' train started at past midnight, and Ann and I in it, in a boxcar, with our baggage. 'Our' crew had been lying around asleep in the car we were in, and others. I had bought a revolver and with that in my hand, in my breast-pocket, we dozed by fits and starts till dawn. Were delayed by several landslides that had to be dug out, but by 9 A.M. on Wednesday (19th) we reached Alderson's Ferry on the Greenbrier River (22 miles). Road thence to Mann's Tunnel (10 miles) blocked so by slides that several days would elapse before it could be cleared.

"Telegraphed to Major Temples at White Sulphur Springs to send special engine for us to Mann's Tunnel at other side of the break. His answer not being satisfactory, I telegraphed to General Superintendent Perry at Richmond stating our distress and requesting a train at Mann's Tunnel, and then got a big two-horse wagon and driver, put ourselves and baggage aboard it, and with a man named Williams--a horse-trader of Lynchburg, who had been with us all the way and was as faithful and devoted as old dog Tray--we crossed the swollen and rapid Greenbrier River by a rope ferry and started for Mann's Tunnel beyond the obstruction. Such a fearful ride thro' forests and over mountains for ten miles!

"Had breakfast at Alderson's before leaving--left at twelve noon, and got to Mann's Tunnel at 5 P.M. after climbing over mountains incredible. Had a good respectable super at Mann's house, a good Virginia farmhouse, and left at 6:30 P.M. in a box-car (as usual) for Eastward. Got to Ronceverte (7 1/2 miles) after a couple of hours (nearly the fastest traveling we had made for two weeks). Both used up for want of rest and sleep. Concluded to go no further that night, so stayed in lumber yard, (they called it an unfinished hotel) kept by a Mr. Lively.

'His father and mother were Lively, and he was Lively too--
There were bed bugs and fleas, as many as you please--
And they were Lively too!'

"Next morning, as there was no prospect of any 'train' going thence Eastward for an indefinite time, I telegraphed Major Temples at White Sulphur Springs that we had managed to get along so far, and that he must send us an engine to take us to the Springs. He telegraphed immediately that he preparing a train to send especially for us with all possible dispatch. You see we had become famous in that part of the world, and our misfortunes were everywhere known, and everybody was very kind to us wherever we wen, even at White Sulphur. And so on to Richmond, and there, our sufferings and adventures were known and were the subject of commiseration.

"At noon the special train arrived, a splendid new engine and passenger car (the first one we had seen for a long time) and men enough to keep the track cleared from slides. We had to get through some slides but when there was clear stretch of track our Engineer took us along, flying! We reached White Sulphur Springs (a famous place for summer resort) at 4 P.M. had us driving to the hotel (where everything was comfortable and all ready for us) we were taken about and shown the famous place. What a relief it was at least to get once more into the civilized world! From Sunday Feb. 9 to Wednesday Feb. 19 I had never had my clothes off! Up at 4:30 next morning and took the 6 A.M. train to Richmond (227 miles) and arrived in Richmond at 5:40 that afternoon a most delightful ride in a bright sunny day, thro' a most picturesque and interesting country with superb scenery.

In 1913, Frank Trumbull, then chairman of the board of the Chesapeake and Ohio Railway, was provided with a copy of this letter by Edwin G. Merril, son of Mr. and Mrs Isaac Hobbs Merrill. In an accompanying note, Mr. Merrill, a prominent banker of New York City, commented:

"I am inclined to think that my father's feelings toward the Chesapeake & Ohio Railway were somewhat mollified when he reached New York as my mother tells me the officers of the company offered to send them with their friends in a special train over the road at any time after it was completed. Apparently the did not care to run any further chances."

July and August 1952, Track magazine published by the C & O Railway.