In 1890 Stevens, pushing his surveyors hard, was 565 miles to the west of Marias when he ran into a barrier. Far more formidable than the 1100foot higher Marias, the 4000-foot pass that would bear John Stevens' name was to be a thorn in Jim Hill's side for the next seven years a thorn which all but made a mockery of his favorite slogan, "Maximum ton-miles with minimum train-miles," for with the motive power then available the average train over Stevens Pass was to consist of but a half dozen cars.

Good engineer that he was, Stevens had exhausted every other possibility of penetrating the Cascades. His crew surveyed its way up Tumwater Canyon without exceeding 2.2 per cent gradients until at elevation 3382 feet they ran into what looked to be an insurmountable barrier for an adhesion railroad. Obviously a tunnel was called for, but the transits told them that a tunnel would be 21⁄2 miles in length, something that might take years to bore. Jim Hill couldn't afford such a delay, so it was switchbacks over the top or nothing. Stevens' decision was expedient, but as history proved, it pushed Great Northern through to the coast perhaps as much as seven years earlier than would have been the case had they waited to finish the tunnel. The railroad history of the Pacific Northwest tells us that Jim Hill was the dominating force in the '90's and the early part of the present century. This was primarily because he had so solidly entrenched himself that he acquired control of the Northern Pacific and later the Burlington, something he obviously could not have done had Great Northern not been a completed railroad. Perhaps but for Stevens' decision to throw a series of switchbacks over the mountain and make GN a complete through line to the Coast, Jim Hill might never have become the great power he later was in American railroading.

Stevens brought the east slope grade from Leavenworth up to what was soon to be known as Cascade Tunnel Station at 3382 feet elevation and the west slope grade from Skykomish up to what was then called Wellington at 3136 feet elevation, with neither grade exceeding 2.2 per cent. Then one of his engineers, C. F. B. Haskell, surveyed a route over the top of the range. Although Haskell held the maximum grade to 4 per cent, the 41⁄2 direct miles between Cascade Tunnel and Wellington required 12 miles of rail, eight switchbacks, and a climb to 4059 feet at the summit. Up in the gap Haskell blazed a large tree and marked it STEVENS' PASS. Westbound trains would face 13 miles of 2.2 per cent

grade before reaching the 4 per cent slope. Eastbound trains from Seattle would have fairly easy going until reaching Skykomish; from there they would face 21 miles of 2.2 per cent grade up to Wellington where the switchbacks and the 4 per cent grade began.

The last spike was driven on January 6, 1893, in the town of Scenic at what is now the West Portal of the present Cascade Tunnel. Stevens wasted little time in celebration; he started work on the 21⁄2-mile Cascade Tunnel immediately. None knew better than he the great difficulties of operating a railroad economically when tonnage had to move over 4 per cent grade and switchbacks.

As his slogan — “Maximum tonmiles with minimum train-miles" indicates, Jim Hill was a believer in big motive power. He bought the best he could get for Stevens Pass, and the best was none too good. He had anchored his push westward on some 250 locomotives, of which 60 Rogers 2-6-0's had been used for heavy freight work. It became apparent even before the 1.8 per cent grades of Marias Pass were encountered that heavier motive power was an absolute necessity. The 20,085 pounds tractive effort and 87,000 pounds weight on drivers of the Rogers Moguls just couldn't handle tonnage on such grades, so with the sure knowledge of the heavier grades yet to come in the Cascades, Hill turned to the Brooks Works and asked for the best they could give him in tonnage haulers. In 1892 the Dunkirk builder came up with a 26,080-pound-tractive-effort Consolidation with 120,000 pounds on drivers and 180 pounds boiler pressure. These had been preceded by an even heavier 4-8-0 in 1891, good for 28,925 pounds tractive effort, with 132,000 pounds on drivers. Not only were these engines designed for heavy mountain service -the Consolidations for road work and the 4-8-0's for pusher as well as road work - but they also introduced the Belpaire firebox to the Great Northern Railway. The road was to standardize on this type firebox and become the largest user of it next to the Pennsylvania Railroad.

THE new engines came to Stevens Pass in time to help complete the switchbacks and to replace the old Rogers Moguls which could handle but two or three cars on the 4 per cent grade. The new engines were good for four to five cars, but since the switchbacks could hold only seven or eight cars, the full benefit of pusher engines could not immediately be realized. When the line was finally

opened in 1893 and through service established, these engines became the backbone of freight power in the Cascades.

On a typical Cascade Division freight movement, one of the Consolidations would arrive at Skykomish from Seattle with 25 cars, some 600 tons tied to its drawbar. Skykomish was a crew and engine change point. A 4-8-0 would be assigned as a pusher, a fresh 2-8-0 put on the head end, and the two engines would roll the train out of Skykomish Yard. Right at the yard limit the battle began, for they went right into the 2.2 per cent grade which extended all of the 21 miles from Skykomish to Wellington. The best the little engines could make was 5 to 6 mph. What with meeting trains, stopping for water, running into rock slides, and so forth, they might be any time from 5 to 15 hours beating their way up to Wellington. After stopping for water and maybe coal at Scenic, they'd sweep around the long left horseshoe curve and the eastbound engine crews would find themselves heading due west directly away from Wellington, still on the steady 2.2 per cent grade. Climbing up out of the Tye River Valley, there would be another stop and maybe a meet at Corea, then they would proceed across a long curved timber trestle over Martin Creek and right into a hole in the side of a rock-walled mountain. This was Horseshoe Tunnel and immediately after entering it they would move around a long right horseshoe, coming out into daylight on a second and smaller trestle, this time heading back east again. They were still climbing the same mountain, but this time at a higher level and in an easterly direction. Soon came another stop at Embro for water, then 2 miles farther west they passed Scenic again, this time 250 feet up in the air and clinging to the side of the mountain.

The rails headed on up Stevens Pass, dug in on the hill on the north side of the Tye River Valley. The grade held a steady 2.2 per cent for 3 more miles, and finally the two engines, by this time badly in need of some enginehouse attention, slowed for the Wellington Yard limit. If space was available in the yard — and that depended almost entirely on whether the line over the pass was blocked, thereby meaning that Wellington Yard would also be full the engine crews might or might not get to put their train away and go home to the bunkhouse.

Since the line had been opened for traffic over the pass, the switchbacks had been lengthened to the point where they could hold 10 to 12 cars. A train of this length would be made up in Wellington Yard with one or

two engines on the head end and a pusher behind. After starting up on a steady 2.2 per cent grade, the engines moved right into a 4 per cent grade on a long climbing, curved trestle that led into the first switchback around to the right of Wellington Yard. After reversing direction at the switchback, and with the pusher leading, the train accomplished a mile of running which brought it completely around to the other side of the yard and to the second switchback; then it reversed again into the third and even wider half circle as it gained altitude to the third switchback around to the right side of the yard again, many feet above the first switchback. Again the pusher led the train as it finally moved out of sight of Wellington Yard for a short run into the fourth switchback. Then back above the yard again to the fifth and last west slope switchback. Coming out of the fifth switchback the train snaked along the side of the mountain over the Summit and then through the east slope switchbacks to Cascade Tunnel Station.

With luck the engine crews would saw back and forth over the eight

switchbacks and get down to Cascade Tunnel Station in an hour and a half. If they were unlucky and snow happened to be falling in the pass, they might be up there for 36 hours until the plows and several hundred hand shovelers dug them out. In the wintertime, Stevens Pass engine crews spent much more time in engine cabs than they did at home.

The snow in Stevens Pass drifted 75 feet deep in the winter and the tracks were little more than canyons in the snow. Hundreds of men were employed to keep the switchbacks open and to shovel out trains. The normal rate of snowfall was 8 inches an hour and 12 inches an hour was common. In Wellington Yard, 30-foot snowdrifts made operation extremely difficult. To say the least, train operation over Stevens Pass was as tough as any operation in the West.

WITH the opening of the Great Northern to the Coast, passenger trains also began to run. At the same time Hill had ordered the 2-8-0's and the 4-8-0's from Brooks, he had also ordered some 10-wheeled passenger engines. These locomotives could de

velop 19,945 pounds tractive effort with a weight on drivers of 110,000 pounds and a boiler pressure of 180 pounds. It took three Ten-Wheelers to move a seven-car train over the switchbacks two double-headed on the head end as they moved out of the yard, and one backed in against the last car, so that it could head forward on the reverse legs of the switchbacks.

With the exception of a few Baldwins, Brooks engines continued as the favored power on Big G's roster. As the Pacific Northwest developed, the trains grew heavier and Jim Hill went to Brooks again for bigger motive power in 1898. The Dunkirk Plant responded with another Ten-Wheeler for passenger service and another 4-8-0, each with vastly improved performance. The Ten-Wheeler's tractive effort was 34,000 pounds, weight on drivers 130,000 pounds, and boiler pressure 210 pounds. The 4-8-0 came to the Cascades for pusher service and it was quite a locomotive for 1898. The Great Northern liked them so much it ordered another batch in 1900. Tractive effort was 35,200 pounds, weight on drivers 172,000 pounds, and boiler pressure 210 pounds. These locomo

tives introduced piston valves to the Great Northern and at the time of their construction were among the heaviest locomotives in existence. One of them, No. 103, was the 3000th locomotive turned out by Brooks, and it was exhibited at the Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1898. The TenWheeler, too, was among the heaviest of its type in existence and it also was exhibited at the exposition.

The new 4-8-0's were real tonnage hogs. They could haul up to 10 cars over the switchbacks without a pusher and Stevens Pass operation was considerably speeded up. However, the switchbacks had long since become a severe bottleneck to the Great Northern's steadily increasing traffic and the opening of Cascade Tunnel was eagerly anticipated. It was opened in December of 1900, extending 2.63 miles from Wellington at West Portal up a steady tangent 1.7 per cent grade to the East Portal at Cascade Tunnel Station. The old line over the pass was abandoned with no regrets. The new tunnel shortened the route some 9 miles, eliminated the switchbacks, cut the running time about 2 hours, and reduced snow problems considerably, even though it didn't eliminate them completely.

The new tunnel must have looked good to the ashcat after he had been trying to keep the fire out of the flues for the 21 tough miles from Skykomish, but he still couldn't go to sleep when his 4-8-0 poked her pilot into the bore at Wellington. There were other problems. In theory, the specification of the Crow's Nest coal, which the Big G burned, said it was "free of sulphur and gas-forming ma

terials," but nevertheless, before entering the tunnel any wise fireman made sure the flues were clean and there was barely enough coal on what was left of the fire to let the old gal make it to the top. Old-timers insist that even with these precautions, 200degree temperatures were measured in engine cabs! Also, the rails frequently got wet from condensed steam and on the hard pull up the 1.7 per cent grade the engine would occasionally fall on its face; the smoke, flame, heat, and cinders belching out of the stack did not help the breathing situation much. There were telephones every quarter mile for emergency use, but the gas and smoke conditions frequently made them inoperable. It is easy to imagine that the engine crews didn't need fur coats. For obvious reasons, the crews on the pusher engines fared even worse than the road crews. Some engines were fitted with extension stacks, but this was only a partial help. In later years, before the tunnel was electrified, gas masks were standard equipment on all engines.

But even if the ashcat couldn't exactly go to sleep when the engine was in the tunnel and on the 2.2 per cent grade, he was practically on a vacation in comparison with the shoveling of coal he'd have been doing up on the old switchbacks.

After 1900 the Great Northern concentrated pretty much on Consolidations from Rogers, Schenectady, Brooks, and Cooke. Large numbers of these engines were bought between 1900 and 1906. They developed 41,500 pounds tractive effort, had 175,000 pounds on drivers, and 210 pounds

boiler pressure. The trains coming up the Tye River Valley looked vastly different from those in the days when the line was first opened. Then two engines had struggled mightily with 25 cars. Two of these new Class F Consolidations, one ahead and one pushing, could take 1050 tons at a steady 5 to 6 mph all the way from Skykomish to Wellington. And so the train length grew from 25 cars to 35 cars and even 40 cars, and they no longer had to be hauled over the pass in short cuts. The two Consolidations took their train right through the tunnel to Cascade Tunnel Station at the East Portal.

GREAT NORTHERN's traffic kept increasing through the early 1900's and it was obvious to Jim Hill that he must again face up to a motive power problem. There were too many trains on the road, all seemingly trying to get over the Cascades at the same time. Tie-ups were frequent, particularly in the wintertime, although in the years since the line had been opened many miles of snowsheds had been constructed of the stately Douglas firs which abounded on the west slope. With his usual foresight, Hill was among the earliest to capitalize on the first of the really big motive power of the 20th century.

In 1904 Alco had built a revolutionary type of locomotive two separate steam engines under the same boiler, with the engines compounded. This engine was called a Mallet, after Anatole Mallet, a Frenchman who had developed the design in Europe. The design permitted great weight on drivers, good flexibility for getting around sharp curves (the engines were connected with an articulated joint), and very high tractive effort. After receiving reports of this locomotive's performance on Baltimore & Ohio's Sand Patch grade, Hill called in the Baldwin people and asked them to design a compound Mallet for the Great Northern. Baldwin turned out five 2-6-6-2's, numbers 1800-1804, designed specifically for pusher service. in the Cascades. They brought the Walschaert valve gear to the Great Northern. Tractive effort was 70,000 pounds, weight on drivers 316,000 pounds, and boiler pressure 200 pounds. That they did what Jim Hill wanted them to do on the Cascade Division is evident in his reorder of 17 more in 1908.

With an 1800-series 2-6-6-2 Class L Mallet pushing and a Consolidation on the head end, the train tonnage was raised to 1300 in 1906. In 1908 it was raised still higher to 1600 when 17 new Class L Mallets permitted one to be used as a road engine and another for

a pusher. Hill was doing a good job of living up to his slogan. By 1908 he had increased his tonnage per train by better than 50 per cent from the 1050 tons of 1900, and by nearly 300 per cent from the 600 tons of 1893. Further, in the remarkably short span of 13 years from 1893 to 1906 his Cascade Division motive power had advanced from the 20,085 pounds tractive effort of the little Moguls to the 80,430 pounds tractive effort of the Class L Mallets.

In 1905 Rogers delivered Pacifictype passenger engines and Baldwin did the same in 1907 and 1909. These engines virtually supplanted the old Ten-Wheelers on the Cascade Mountain grades, although rebuilt versions of the Ten-Wheelers continued to be used occasionally for many years. Improvement though the Pacifics were, they still required helpers unless the trains were only four or five cars long.

One of the new Baldwin Pacifics, No. 1438, played a part in what but for a miracle of luck might have been a first-class tragedy. As usual, snow was the sinister potential killer. One morning in December 1907, the 1438 eased No. 4 out of Seattle bound for St. Paul with an eight-car consist of coaches, sleepers, diner, mail, and baggage cars. Snow was falling heavily, but the 1438 had little difficulty in bringing No. 4 into Skykomish on time.

The situation at Skykomish didn't look good. Snow was reported falling in Wellington at the rate of 1 foot per hour. Under these conditions the 21 miles of hellish grade between Sky and Wellington could be tough going. The trainmaster, dispatcher, and No. 4's crew talked over the situation. Should No. 4 go on or tie up at Sky? An almost fatally wrong decision was made. No. 4 would go, but a rotary would precede it to clear the track.

Visibility was bad and for safety's sake the rotary was dispatched 15 minutes ahead of No. 4. No. 1106, a husky Consolidation, backed down on the head end of the 1438, coupled on, and pumped up the air. With the rotary some 3 miles ahead, No. 4 moved out of Skykomish with the 1106 and the 1438 under wide open throttles on the 2.2 per cent grade. Things went well for the first few miles, thanks to the rotary. No. 4 moved around Tonga Loop in good shape and headed for Scenic. But the snow under pressure of the howling wind began drifting into the cuts made by the plow and just a few miles short of Scenic the train ran into a mountainous drift and was wrenched to a shuddering stop. The two runners reversed the engines and tried to back out, but the only result was spinning drive wheels.

ABOUT
THE AUTHOR

1 THE Jerome Avenue Elevated was D. W. McLaughlin's first railroad interest. Its cars passed but a few hundred feet from a second-floor window of his Bronx home and as a boy he spent many hours with his nose pressed against that window. His railroading interest expanded to steam engines when his father moved the family to Long Island; then he discovered Railroad Stories and TRAINS.

After three years with the Corps of Engineers during the war, McLaughlin joined General Electric and was assigned to Alco, where he served as instructor and as service engineer and locomotive application engineer on a string of demonstrators from the 1500 h.p. road-switcher No. 1191 of 1947 to the 4500 h.p. DL-600 and 601 of 1954. The list of roads covered, says McLaughlin, "would read like the 'Boomer's Trail.'" In 1954 he was transferred to GE's Erie (Pa.) plant and since then has worked on sales and application engineering assignments involving electrical equipment for railed and rubbertired vehicles.

How did someone from Erie, Pa., come to write about a Cascade Mountain railroad? In 1956 McLaughlin made an auto trip between Seattle and Wenatchee, Wash. U. S. 2 between these cities traverses Stevens Pass and he was intrigued with the old abandoned concrete snowsheds between the West Portal of the present Cascade Tunnel and the top of the pass. Back in Erie, he checked with some old-timers who had worked on the GN's electrical installation in the late '20's. The stories and anecdotes they related led him to exhaustive research and, ultimately, to his comprehensive manuscript. I

Fortunately, the trainmaster and the dispatcher had foreseen such a possibility and the plow had been double-ended; that is, there was a rotary in front of the locomotive and a secondary rotary behind it headed in the opposite direction. So, when No. 4 didn't show up at Scenic the plow began cautiously to ease backward, with the rear rotary clearing the track that had first been cleared by the front rotary an hour and a half before. They found No. 4, plowed it out, and got moving again. As they eased up to

the water plug at Scenic, No. 4 was 4 hours late.

After having spent better than 5 hours covering the 12 miles from Skykomish to Scenic, and with the thought of 9 tougher miles on the side of the mountain to Wellington still ahead and of the passengers in the coaches and sleepers, the crew got on the wire and argued with the dispatcher to return to Skykomish or wait out the storm in Scenic. They lost the argument; the dispatcher said, "Go."

No one knew it was to take 10 days to cover the next 10 miles to Wellington. The rotary ground up the grade past Corea, through Horseshoe Tunnel; 1106 and 1438 were hanging on behind the plow as closely as they dared. Occasionally between snowsheds a slide dropped down between the plow and the train, but those mountain engineers were used to that. They just hung onto their throttles with both hands, ignored the brake valves, and smashed through the snow and rubble. They rounded Windy Point, 250 feet directly above Scenic, and headed up the last few miles to Wellington and safety.

Then it happened.

As the 1106 pounded out of a snowshed about 2 miles from Wellington, the engineer saw the plow disappear into the next shed ahead. It was no sooner out of sight than a tremendous avalanche rolled down the mountain, covering the entrance to the next shed with 50 feet of snow and debris. With the judgment born of years on the mountain, the runner on the 1106 did not throw the brakes into emergency; had he done so the train would have had to stand there on the side of the mountain pumping up air, exposed to the next slide. He took a normal brake pipe reduction, and before the train stopped was whistling a frantic backup signal. The two veteran runners had no intention of standing still very long on the exposed side of the mountain. The two locomotives lunged backward toward the last snowshed. Passengers and crew, mailmen and baggagemen were knocked flat on the floors of the cars. With throttles widened, the two engines shoved No. 4 into the snowshed something like a ramrod going down a rifle barrel. Fifty feet from the shed the runner on the 1106 hit the air and this time he did put it in emergency. The shed was barely long enough to hold the train and he didn't want the observationsleeper hanging out in the air on the far end. With a wrenching, crashing stop, No. 4 came to rest with the 1106's pilot barely inside the shed just as another avalanche of snow and rock sealed off the entrance. Thirty sec

onds later another slide plugged the back end of the shed and No. 4 with 40 human beings on board was cut off from the rest of creation.

Not a wheel turned on the Big G between Skykomish and Wellington for two weeks. The passengers and crew "lived it out," eating what food the diner had to offer, and rationing the coal to keep from freezing. On the 10th day they walked into Wellington and in a couple more days the Great Northern dug the train out. The passengers had put up with the discomfort cheerfully. Life is sweet, particularly when one knows that but for the quick thinking and fast action of two engineers it would no longer exist.

Despite the mountain, the weather, and the heavier power (or perhaps because of the latter), train operation was of sufficient density to keep

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the Cascade Tunnel full of smoke almost all of the time. Operating conditions in the tunnel were hazardous, with engine crews flying blind most of the time. On one occasion in 1903 a trainload of more than 100 passengers narrowly escaped asphyxiation in the tunnel when the coupler between the helper engine and the road engine failed. Three times the crews attempted to recouple the engines without success. Finally the helper was forced to run ahead through the tunnel for help. By this time the passengers were in very bad condition, and so was the engine crew. The conductor, recognizing the seriousness of the situation, managed to reach the engine cab to find the engineer and fireman unconscious on the deck. Before he could do anything he himself collapsed. Finally, another fireman

who was a passenger on the train managed to reach the engine and in desperation released the air brakes. This could have created an even more serious situation had he too collapsed, for the train would have rolled down the 1.7 per cent grade of the tunnel onto the 2.2 per cent mountain grade and almost certainly would have derailed on one of the curves. However, he remained conscious long enough to make an emergency brake application when the locomotive rolled out of the tunnel, and the train stopped in Wellington Yard with all crew members and practically all of the passengers unconscious. The fireman received a citation for his heroic action as well as a personal check from James J. Hill in the sum of $1000.

There was only one solution to this problem: electrification. I