The Steam Locomotive - New Technology for 1876
An antique document from 1876 I was able to recover from my personal internet folder. Rather remarkable don't you think?
Railroad tracks have been laid by almost 450 Chinese workers for a new railroad passage from the main line at Fulton, California to the isolated Korbel Mills. I am on a steam locomotive as a reporter for the St. Louis Star ready to make the first test run with a crew of two engineers.
After a relatively calm twenty minutes of travel, we pulled into the Forestville stop. I heard there are plans to build a little depot here, but at the moment it seems we are making a random stop because there is nothing here to even suggest that it is a train stop. I know that the line isn't yet running and I am getting a preview of what it will be like. While sitting here I realize I can see the giant redwoods ahead though, and I feel a little panic in my mind as it appears that the trees are a wall and there is no way through them.
But we start again. Suddenly we cross the border, the light disappears and the temperature drops several degrees. The feeling is that we just shrunk to only a fraction of the size we used to be. Even the two engineers running the engine suddenly seem to forget that they have a job to do and we all stand silently as though the train had entered a cathedral.
This is truly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I feel like there is no way to tell you this simple fact. There is no way you can understand without actually being here.
I was told the first stop after Forestville would be a mile into the forest, Green Valley. I expected a similar nothingness that I had felt at the Forestville stop. Much to my surprise, as the engine slowed down we crossed a narrow bridge over a creek and in the distance I could see a building, no, a collection of buildings. It seems unlikely humans could actually survive in this exotic wilderness.
Three men were waiting at the building and two stood up and walked toward the tracks. The third seem to ignore our arrival.
One of the guys grabbed the handrail as we slowed to a stop and pulled himself right up into the cab like it was something he did everyday. He gave me a big smile and, after wiping his hand on his pants, offered to shake my hand. He yelled over the roar of steam being released from near the iron wheels. He asked if I was Mr. Fox, though obviously I was the only person who was in the control room of this train who was not working. He introduced himself as Samual Jackson saying he would accompany me the rest of the way to Korbel Mills.
I asked about the buildings which seemed quiet and ghostly. He said until recently it had been a chair factory. At first I thought he must be making a joke as it seemed a ridiculous place to have any kind of a factory, perhaps especially one making chairs. Mr. Jackson explained that the factory had relocated and the railroad had plans to use these building.
The other guy who had approached the engine was yelling something to Mr. Jackson, but I didn’t know what he was saying. Combined with the steam and the roar of the train's fire box, I found it all a bit too much for my brain and I had a thought I should strip naked and run into the forest as a wild beast. I didn't do that, of course.
Once the train was moving again, Mr. Jackson and the other two in the compartment got quiet as we moved into the darkness. The trees grew so close to the tracks that I could almost touch them if I wanted to. They seemed to be ten feet in diameter and taller than it was possible to see.
I felt so good as we rolled though the cut path that I started thinking that perhaps I could became an engineer myself and spend my days right here instead of siting at a desk in a newspaper's office.
I noted the train was slowing down. We were rolling onto a trestle and the ground was dropping away. Then the canyon opened and I saw we were on a bridge at least one hundred feet above the river. It took my breath and made my stomach pull up into my throat. Now I started thinking that maybe this was going too far, this technology was taking us places that we were never intended to go, but the engine chugged along and soon we rolled off the bridge and onto another small trestle before coming to a complete stop again. I would guess there might be a dozen people here and they were all waving and smiling at us. I smiled and waved back recognizing how fortunate I was to be a rider on this historic trip. Mr. Jackson said this was Cosmo Farm, a campground. I thought, wonderful! I made a mental note to return here soon and explore this river and the forest I had seen.
The train moved on with the next scheduled stop being Korbel Mills. That was where the tracks ended.
As we approached I was sickened by the view. In all directions I saw nothing but stumps. The fantastic trees had been murdered in their sleep. Of course I knew that it was a lumber mill, that these trees were the natural resource that actually caused a train to get built. But I never expected this kind of impact, this sense of the idea being so obviously wrong. It was like if God were mineable and we would go into churches and cut him into pieces, carry him out and sell him on the street.
I knew it was wrong, but I knew technology is like this. It tells us what to do instead of us telling it what to do. Technology stumps us too.
Once off the train, I walked over to a large stump and placed my hands on it. I apologized for being a human, saying that one day this would all be over. There would be trees and river and humans. We would want to be here, to live here and tell the world that all is good.
Hardy Fox - The St. Louis Star 1876
After a relatively calm twenty minutes of travel, we pulled into the Forestville stop. I heard there are plans to build a little depot here, but at the moment it seems we are making a random stop because there is nothing here to even suggest that it is a train stop. I know that the line isn't yet running and I am getting a preview of what it will be like. While sitting here I realize I can see the giant redwoods ahead though, and I feel a little panic in my mind as it appears that the trees are a wall and there is no way through them.
But we start again. Suddenly we cross the border, the light disappears and the temperature drops several degrees. The feeling is that we just shrunk to only a fraction of the size we used to be. Even the two engineers running the engine suddenly seem to forget that they have a job to do and we all stand silently as though the train had entered a cathedral.
This is truly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I feel like there is no way to tell you this simple fact. There is no way you can understand without actually being here.
I was told the first stop after Forestville would be a mile into the forest, Green Valley. I expected a similar nothingness that I had felt at the Forestville stop. Much to my surprise, as the engine slowed down we crossed a narrow bridge over a creek and in the distance I could see a building, no, a collection of buildings. It seems unlikely humans could actually survive in this exotic wilderness.
Three men were waiting at the building and two stood up and walked toward the tracks. The third seem to ignore our arrival.
One of the guys grabbed the handrail as we slowed to a stop and pulled himself right up into the cab like it was something he did everyday. He gave me a big smile and, after wiping his hand on his pants, offered to shake my hand. He yelled over the roar of steam being released from near the iron wheels. He asked if I was Mr. Fox, though obviously I was the only person who was in the control room of this train who was not working. He introduced himself as Samual Jackson saying he would accompany me the rest of the way to Korbel Mills.
I asked about the buildings which seemed quiet and ghostly. He said until recently it had been a chair factory. At first I thought he must be making a joke as it seemed a ridiculous place to have any kind of a factory, perhaps especially one making chairs. Mr. Jackson explained that the factory had relocated and the railroad had plans to use these building.
The other guy who had approached the engine was yelling something to Mr. Jackson, but I didn’t know what he was saying. Combined with the steam and the roar of the train's fire box, I found it all a bit too much for my brain and I had a thought I should strip naked and run into the forest as a wild beast. I didn't do that, of course.
Once the train was moving again, Mr. Jackson and the other two in the compartment got quiet as we moved into the darkness. The trees grew so close to the tracks that I could almost touch them if I wanted to. They seemed to be ten feet in diameter and taller than it was possible to see.
I felt so good as we rolled though the cut path that I started thinking that perhaps I could became an engineer myself and spend my days right here instead of siting at a desk in a newspaper's office.
I noted the train was slowing down. We were rolling onto a trestle and the ground was dropping away. Then the canyon opened and I saw we were on a bridge at least one hundred feet above the river. It took my breath and made my stomach pull up into my throat. Now I started thinking that maybe this was going too far, this technology was taking us places that we were never intended to go, but the engine chugged along and soon we rolled off the bridge and onto another small trestle before coming to a complete stop again. I would guess there might be a dozen people here and they were all waving and smiling at us. I smiled and waved back recognizing how fortunate I was to be a rider on this historic trip. Mr. Jackson said this was Cosmo Farm, a campground. I thought, wonderful! I made a mental note to return here soon and explore this river and the forest I had seen.
The train moved on with the next scheduled stop being Korbel Mills. That was where the tracks ended.
As we approached I was sickened by the view. In all directions I saw nothing but stumps. The fantastic trees had been murdered in their sleep. Of course I knew that it was a lumber mill, that these trees were the natural resource that actually caused a train to get built. But I never expected this kind of impact, this sense of the idea being so obviously wrong. It was like if God were mineable and we would go into churches and cut him into pieces, carry him out and sell him on the street.
I knew it was wrong, but I knew technology is like this. It tells us what to do instead of us telling it what to do. Technology stumps us too.
Once off the train, I walked over to a large stump and placed my hands on it. I apologized for being a human, saying that one day this would all be over. There would be trees and river and humans. We would want to be here, to live here and tell the world that all is good.
Hardy Fox - The St. Louis Star 1876