Yesterday I had three ideas for blog posts, all of which seemed to me both intriguing and easy to remember – so why write them down?
Today, of course, I’ve forgotten them all.
The only thing I came up with today – for no reason I can think of – was the song in the video above, quaintly illustrated with footage of model trains. Well, I’m the grandson of a railroad man (a line foreman), so why not post about the legendary Casey Jones?
As a child, I thought of Casey Jones as a burly blonde man, due to seeing a syndicated TV series about him starring Alan Hale, Jr. (later to be Skipper on “Gilligan’s Island”), and a local Minnesota kids’ TV show, starring a guy constructed along roughly the same lines. In fact, Jones was a tall, thin, dark-haired fellow. His name was John Luther Jones (1864-1900). He was born in southwestern Missouri, but his family moved to Cayce, Kentucky, from which he acquired the nickname “Casey.” He married a Roman Catholic girl in 1886 and converted to that church.
Jones went to work for the Mobile & Ohio Railroad as a telegraph operator, but rose rapidly to the lofty position of engineer, moving to the Illinois Central railroad. He achieved, if not celebrity, at least some public distinction during the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair, when he was one of the engineers assigned to carry tourists to the fairgrounds. He was popular with the passengers, and enjoyed the work.
As an engineer, he was known to be a risk-taker. There were penalties for skirting safety rules, and he racked up a fair number of them, but Jones and the other engineers were well aware that the penalties for late arrival were greater. In any case, he seems to have liked the challenge. He was a speed junky – in a later time he might have been a race car driver or jet pilot. He was proud of his “on time” record, and is credited with performing an authentic real-life rescue worthy of a movie – sighting a child standing frozen on the tracks as he worked on the engine’s running board, he climbed out onto the cowcatcher and scooped her safely up in his arms.
He worked out of Jackson, Tennessee until 1900, the year of his death, when he transferred to Memphis. On April 30, 1900, at 12:50 a.m., he boarded his regular engine 75 minutes behind schedule (accounts differ as to whether he’d been given time to rest properly). The weather and track conditions were good, and he whooped and poured on the speed, confident he could make up the time. Unbeknownst to him, a train stalled at Vaughn, Mississippi, too long for the siding, was blocking the track. A flagman had been sent out to give warning, but Jones either did not see him or saw him too late. When he realized he was going to plow into the other train, he blew the whistle (as a warning), reversed the engine, and told his fireman to jump. He himself stayed in place. His train hit the boxcar, derailed, and finally came to a rest. There were some injuries, but only Casey Jones died. Since that time there have been quibbles, but most people considered him a hero.
“The Ballad of Casey Jones” seems to have been first sung by Wallace Saunders, a black engine wiper who’d been a friend of Casey’s. However, it’s not certain what words or music he sang; he never wrote them down. The ballad evolved into the folk song we know today. It’s been recorded by many artists.
The Commie labor agitator Joe Hill wrote a version called, “Casey Jones, the Union Scab,” which was a vile slander – John Luther Jones was a paid-up union member.