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Sleeper Car

A Threnody in Steam

By Veronica ColdironPublished 2 years ago 19 min read
9
The Old Nashville

The green velvet chair swayed in rhythm with the sleeping car while my head bobbed around on my chest. I’d been on the train so long that I finally succumbed to the mesmerizing call of sleep.

An interruption in the track popped the chair up and I jumped awake in the middle of an aggressive dream. I don’t know what the dream was exactly, as I'd lost all memory of my whereabouts when my eyes flew open. My vision was bleary in the waning sunlight as I gazed past the window. Green fields rushed by in a blur, wildflowers a mere streak of goldenrod across the top of them.

Suddenly realizing I was on a train, I didn't remember purchasing a ticket, and searched the coat over the arm of the chair to find one. Nothing. Still, no one came looking for it so, for the moment, I elected to sit quietly trying to regain some sense of my surroundings.

I shook my head to try scrambling my brains back into position. Stretching and yawning, I pushed my arms out to pull the knots out of my back, and my left hand grazed something hard.

Once I recomposed myself, I looked left and beheld a long, lavishly built, black casket trimmed in bright, shining silver. In a flood of mourning, my memory returned to me. I stood up, deeply breathing in the memory of my father's life, and exhaling a breath of regret for his passing. I cannot express the pain one endures when a father leaves this world, particularly one like him. Sighs became the dictate of the evening as I looked out the window, wondering where we were.

Photo of Replica Car

The sun was setting, and my mind wandered to what my mother must be doing right now. Though she'd elected not to take the train, I held certain she’d have everyone running around for her and I didn’t regret her decision not to come. With 1654 miles, 400 cities, 7 states and my father's body being moved out for display at several stops, there could be little doubt that my mother would have made a spectacle of the whole thing. She just wasn't capable of handling much and this was too overwhelming... which was a shame, really.

The new Springfield cars were literally like a palace on the rails. After his contribution to the railroad, father should have enjoyed this momentous ride from the elongated velvet divan made just for him, not lying in a box. Touching the casket, I caught myself sighing again as the porter came through.

From the funeral car replica courtesy of "The Visual Journal"

"Good evening, suh." The man said.

"Good evening, George." I replied. "How are things in the Brass Car?"

"Can't say, suh." he answered pulling the long matchsticks from his overcoat and lighting the lanterns. "Gettin' nigh on time to light the cars and I ain't paid them no mind. Of course, seems like if they wasn't well, I'd've shorely heard something 'bout it."

I laughed. It felt good to have some levity in light of the current situation.

"Can I get you anything, suh?" The George Porter asked.

"Actually, George, if you would be so kind as to bring some water. Just, as it is convenient to you. You needn't hurry."

"Yes, suh." He responded. "And if it ain't too bold, let me just say how sorry I am about your father." Before the silence went any further, he added: "And your brother."

"Thank you." I responded, feeling a slight pinch of sorrow in my heart as the porter finished lighting the lanterns and hurried out to get the water.

Stretching again, I walked about to exercise my legs. Arriving at the foot of my father's casket, I stopped short of my little brother’s pall. It was a harrowing thing to revisit Willie’s death in addition to father's. Three years had gone by since typhoid took him and we’d been so busy doing our duty as a family, we hadn't even returned to Springfield to bury him. We’d always planned on waiting until my father's tenure at office had ended. Well... it ended.

The finality of that thought tore at me. I held my breath to keep from sobbing and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. George came back faster than expected with a pitcher of water and a glass. I was grateful for the company, short-lived though it was. He poured my first cup before swiftly pardoning himself.

I drank the first glass without a breath, then poured another. I drank it more slowly before making my way back to the green chair where my long coat lay over the arm. I seated myself, then rested my eyes fully on father's casket. I was unable to take it in before, but this last stop proved the reality of the situation to me.

Though grateful that my father had passed with the deepest love of his countrymen, I regretted traipsing his corpse across so many miles for people to see; people I doubted would have shown him any compassion prior to his death.

Chicago was a blessing and a curse. Over seven-thousand people an hour passed by to pay their respects beneath the Gothic arches built for his display, but his body’s condition had declined to the point that the onlookers were almost shaken up by it.

Photo of the Gothic arches from the Chicago Sun Times

Suddenly, we hit another bump and I noticed the train seemed to be moving at high speeds even though we were forewarned to maintain twenty-miles-per-hour or under. Standing up, I nearly tumbled over the casket when we hit something on the rail again. Afterward, the car shimmied so hard, I began to worry the caskets would fall over and there was no way I could stand that.

Moving to the outer door, I looked over into the warm light coming from the Brass Car behind us. The cars were only accessible from the outside with a key and only the porters had those. If I managed to get over to their door to get someone's attention, they needed to see who I was.

Grabbing the lantern from the side table next to the divan, I opened the door to the sleeper car, stepping into the night. I tried assessing the situation but couldn't get enough light down to the connection from where I was, to see what had happened; not without possibly falling under the train myself.

Carefully stepping from my car's platform to the other, I made sure to grab the rail and push my leg out to make the transfer. Once on the other side, I put the lantern in front of me to illuminate my face and banged hard on the door.

In a moment, the porter came out with concern furrowing his brow.

Motioning for him to follow me, we both labored to keep our limbs under control long enough to get from one platform balcony to the next.

"Something wrong Mr. Robert?" the porter asked, stepping into the car with me.

"George, have we hit a bad patch of railway? I'm sure you and I can agree that this isn't how these cars should behave."

"No suh. You're right. I did notice it was pitchin' a might in the other car, but not bad as all this!"

"Something's wrong." I told him. I thought about the fact that this was my father’s last ride, and I couldn’t let anything happen to it. "Are you able to reach the captain and ask him to slow down?"

"Naw Suh." The porter answered. "We in the 9th car on the train and done bedded down for the night. They done started stoking the pit to raise the speed so's we can make bettuh time."

"Why is it that people continually get motivated at the worst possible times?" I complained to myself.

"Couldn't say, suh." George answered, even though I hadn’t been talking to him. "But I'm pretty sure that's cause we run over somethin', and we probably 'bout to throw a pin. That's likely what's causin' us to bump about so."

If we hadn't been standing in the same cab with my father's corpse, I might have sworn out loud. I decided however, to forget complaints and get into action. The last stop was the next one and one thing was sure... we weren't going to make it all the way to Springfield in the state we were in. There was 184 miles between the two destinations, and we hadn't gone very far yet.

"Whereabout are we on the... um..." I struggled with calling the man "George". There had been three porters since the train started, and everyone had called them George, (after Mr. Pullman, the man who built the sleeper cars).

"I know we've been calling you George. What is your real name?"

"My mama called me James before the war, suh. That be my right name."

"Thank you." I answered, hastily shaking his hand. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise, Suh."

"James, whereabouts are we on the rail?"

"Well, we should be comin' into Bridgeport, directly since we just come through Fort Wayne. We's sposed to put in there 'bout 9:55. We's behind schedule though, that's why they stokin' up to make up some time."

Chicago and Alton Railroad Itinerary

Just as he finished, the train hit something and again the furniture that wasn't bolted to the floor trounced into the air and back down. Both caskets had significant movement but more disturbing to me, was the fact that the shimmying railcar was now making metal grating noises.

"James. Go get me something really heavy. I need something I can hold in my hand and slam down into the pin..."

"Suh!" He yelped out. "You goin' ta kill yo'self and be laid out there next to them if you ain't careful!" He tossed his arm out in the direction of the two caskets in the room.

I thought about the appointed time we should arrive in Bridgeport and pulled my pocket watch to have a look. I didn't want to risk coming apart at a station, especially if the train wasn't slated to stop there, and now we were gaining speed. The last thing I needed right now was to have an accident killing innocent people with the train carrying my family members to their final resting place. Leaning a hand against the wall to stable myself, I locked eyes with James.

"We don't have time for this! I need you to go get something heavy that I can hold in my hand. And you best hurry! I'll start working out a way for me to get down to the coupling so we can get to those pins and see what the problem is!"

"Right away Mr. Robert. I'll help ya."

As James slipped out the door, I stood for a moment thinking about everything I could remember of trains. I’d ridden many during the war and had watched them coming together at the rail yards. I knew how the rings and pins worked and knew that James had probably been right. Most likely we were losing a pin, and I prayed we hadn't already lost it.

“Nothing for it.” I murmured, taking a deep breath and opening the door to step out into the fresh air. It was a cool night for the month of May and though I should be smelling the scents of cornfields and pastures, all I could smell was hot metal with a kind of oily tinge to it.

The air raced into my lungs as I squatted down on the platform balcony with the lantern to see if I could make out what the issue was. I held the balcony rail with one hand and extended my arm with the lantern light. My fears came crashing down upon me as I witnessed a hole where the pin should be, and the coupling ring basically dangling together by the sheer force of the train's speed. The pin hadn't fallen off yet. It was sitting on top of the coupling curvature and bobbing around with each movement.

I couldn't afford to wait for James. If that pin fell, we were doomed. I looped the arm with the lantern around the metal railing of the balcony and laid down on my stomach. Reaching out to the place where the pin bobbed with my other hand, I just couldn't reach it. I was afraid to scoot out too far for fear of falling, but knew I somehow had to get that pin. Taking a deep breath, I used my feet to push the top part of my body out and tried my best to stay ridged, even though my abdomen burned with the effort. I stretched and pushed until I thought my body would break in two, but my fingers did touch it.

Just as all four fingers and a thumb locked around it and I brought it close to my body, I realized that with both hands full, hanging off like that I couldn't get myself up. Everything in me burned and I struggled just to breathe. The top part of my body numbed as I tried to find something with my foot to help me pull back. Just when I thought I would let go and die, James came hurrying out of the Brass Car with something in his hand. I couldn't make out the object he carried but heard the sound of metal when he dropped it, leaping onto the other balcony to pull me to safety.

"Mr. Robert!" James shouted. "You crazy!"

Smiling, I held up the pin.

"But that's all right!" James amended his prior statement, making me bust out laughing. The hilarity of the moment overrode all sense of reason. I just HAD to get that pin back in! I looked at James with both brows risen in question as if to ask if he'd found something.

The older gentleman held up a cast iron skillet.

"Where'd you get that?" I asked, then: "Never mind!" I yelled excitedly. "Great job!"

"Mr. Robert, I can't let you walk out there, suh. We just goin' ta have to figure somethin' else out."

I stood there thinking about this. I tried hurrying my thoughts, but realized it wasn't helping. Then it came to me. Rushing back into the sleeper car, I grabbed my gentleman's coat and brought it out to James.

"Listen to me", I said, grabbing the pan from James and handing him the coat. "We'll put this around me, you feed both sides through the railing then hold the ends of it and pull back as I go forward. I'll drop the pin into the hole and hit it with this pan until we get it worked back in. Understand me?"

James stood there looking at the coat in his hands trying to take all of this in. I’m not sure what came over him, but he looked at the Brass Car behind me and tears pooled in his eyes.

"Mr. Robert, Suh..." He said looking deeply into my eyes and searching for the right words.

I shushed him.

"It's ok, James. Tell me after. We have to do this now!"

Getting a hold of his nerves, James gave the me a stout nod, and then threw the coat around my waist. Pulling it through the bars and wrapping it into his grip, James pushed one foot onto either side of the balcony railing to help anchor him.

I turned within the coat, leaning forward until I felt James catch me. Slowly, James let his arms lower me down into the dark place between the rail cars and prayed out loud for strength and for my safety.

I saw nothing at first, but occasionally I could make out the black coupling in the dark. I was grateful there were lanterns on the back decks. Every couple of seconds I could see it well enough. I fumbled around with the iron pin in my hand, my stomach almost vomitous with the movement of the train and the tightness of the coat on my abdomen.

"You okay Mr. Robert?" James shouted out, struggling not to let it show that he was in pain.

"Well..." I yelled back. "The pin is almost in. Hang on!"

Too bound up in his prayers to respond, James didn't answer.

Soon, there was a "CLANG", and then another.

I put one hand on the metal structure beneath me for support and used the other to hit the pin as forcefully as possible. It didn't drop on the first smack, so I tried it again.

Nothing.

Muttering to myself, I thought of my father. The man split railroad ties with an axe, and here I was struggling to put this ridiculous pin into the hole it was built to go in. I closed my eyes, with that image of my father in my mind. Taking a deep breath, I hit the pin as hard as I could, and it clicked down into place. The rhythm of the train seemed to even out.

"I got it!" I yelled back to James.

"Now what we gonna do Mr. Robert?" He shouted back.

"Do you have the strength to pull me up?" I called out above the din.

At that, somehow James managed enough strength to start pulling the coat up, using the railing for leverage. The very moment I got my hands on the wrought-iron bars I latched on for dear life and helped James get me safely back onto the balcony. We stood on the platform for a moment, in an embrace. As we separated, James looked at me with tears in his eyes.

"I am so grateful you was here, Mr. Robert! Your daddy was a great man, and you are too."

"And so are you, Mr. James." I reminded him. "My father couldn't have done what he did alone, and neither could I. Thank you for your help."

"My pleasure, suh." James answered. "You be needing anythin' else, Mr. Robert?"

"No, Thank you Mr. James. I think I can take it from here."

"Glad to hear it, suh. I think I need to take a lie down myself."

Laughing, I clapped the man on the shoulder as he made his way over to the other car with his pan.

Tossing the coat over my arm, I returned to the sleeper car and stood in silence for a moment. As we pulled through Bridgeport, I checked my pocket watch and noted that we’d made our time back up. Relieved, I allowed myself a few moments to sit in the chair and rest.

By the time we arrived in Joliet, a storm had come up and the train had slowed considerably. Thunder rattled my compartment and I trembled in the aftershock of the metal rail car. Concerned about the slow-down, I rose to look down the line from my window and see if there was a problem.

There wasn't.

As the train slowed, hundreds and possibly thousands of lanterns lit the fields outside of town, despite heavy rain. People had come to pay homage in an outright downpour as the train rolled by. It seemed an eternity watching the beautiful lights in the dark, but one thing stuck out in my mind; they were here from a genuine love for my father... and it made the whole trip worthwhile.

With that thought warming my heart, I took my rest in the sleeping compartment instead of the chair for the first time since the trip had begun.

By 9am, we pulled into Springfield, Illinois with the whistle blowing a wailing threnody that resounded for miles. I stepped onto the platform that fateful morning in May, 1865 and took a very grateful breath to be free of the rail car for a while. As I did so, James stepped off the train. He was met with busy work, handling baggage for the soldiers and politicians who had embarked on this journey with us, and he was answering their questions about the proceedings.

Photo from Conde Nast Traveler

Springing from the platform, I rushed to meet him. As I walked up to James in front of the others there who ignored his existence, I just had to shake his hand.

"Thank you, James for saving my life last night." I told him.

"And thank you suh, for saving ours." James grinned from ear to ear. "God bless you and your family, suh. I'll be a prayin for you."

"And I for you." I ended the handshake with a wink and headed off to Willie’s carriage while James recanted the story from the night before, to all of the brave men who had slept through it.

By 10:00am, the mahogany hearse, crowned in regal black feathers and pulled by six great black horses had already collected father and conducted his next to last ride in his long journey. The procession moved from the depot to the State house where thousands of people paid their respects. And so it was, until the following morning at 10am, when the procession would move to Oak Ridge Cemetery.

Photo from the Staab Funeral Homes, Springfield, Illinois

I rode with my brother’s pall, as I’m sure father would have intended. When Willie was placed in the tomb next to him, I thought of my brother’s soft hair, his sweet face, his favorite toys. Sorrow gripped my heart to think that he would never run giggling through the house again. I tightened my jaw to control the need to weep, to crumble and come apart at the seams here at the end. I had done my part and made the conscious decision to leave now and put this behind me. The fight was over and my part in it was done. It was my time, and I was going to live it the way I saw fit.

***********************

Robert Todd Lincoln went on to become a successful attorney, serving as legal counsel to the Pullman Palace Car Company, the very company that fashioned his father's rail car. After George Pullman’s death in 1897, Robert became the company president and later Chairman of the Board until 1922. He made his last personal appearance at the dedication of his father’s Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C., on May 30, 1922. During his stay with the Pullman Company, Robert amassed a fortune.

Robert Todd-Lincoln age 22, Courtesy of Illinois State Library Project

Though the story of Robert's bravery over the rail to Springfield is thought to be a myth, train couplings were very rudimentary at the time, and this is a likely event. Thousands had come up with patent ideas for better ways to join railcars, but none stuck until Eli Janney, a man who served on Robert E. Lee's personal staff during the Civil War, patented the knuckle coupler in 1873 which came to be called, "the strongest handshake in the world." Due to the cost of converting the rail cars, it didn't catch on until Lorenzo Coffin, (an evangelist at heart), was riding in a caboose one day and witnessed a horrific accident involving a railroad worker. The man’s suffering was more than he could bear, and his mission ensued in the wake of that catastrophe. He got the ear of President Harrison, who passed the Safety Appliance Act in 1893. In so doing, they reduced accidents on the rail from 40% to 4% using the knuckle coupler.

Short Story
9

About the Creator

Veronica Coldiron

I'm a mild-mannered project accountant by day, a free-spirited writer, artist, singer/songwriter the rest of the time. Let's subscribe to each other! I'm excited to be in a community of writers and I'm looking forward to making friends!

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  1. Excellent storytelling

    Original narrative & well developed characters

  2. Easy to read and follow

    Well-structured & engaging content

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    Creative use of language & vocab

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Comments (9)

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  • Shirley Belk6 months ago

    The reason I love genealogy and ancestry is combined, history comes alive. Your stories do, too! Enjoyed both stories about Lincoln and learned so very much. Thank you.

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  • Ally North2 years ago

    This was such a great read, I love historical fiction and found myself reading and scrolling like mad to find out who the narrator and his dead father were. So well done, and I love that I know something new now!!

  • Sarah G.2 years ago

    This is great! Well-written, easy to read, and a fascinating story.

  • Deasun T. Smyth2 years ago

    this was great! hope you win the contest.

  • Omg I loved how you gave thesw historical figures new life!! So beautiful ❤️

  • This was a fantastic story and I absolutely loved it! Excellent storytelling!

  • Babs Iverson2 years ago

    Awesome!!! Loved reading your historical story. 👏💖💕

  • An excellent story with some amazing images and is a wonderful threnody as well

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